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delirious-donna · 13 days

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The Surprise [Higuruma Hiromi]

an: it’s 2am and here I am posting this smut-filled fic because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about this man. p.s. requests are open for Higuruma specifically so drop me an ask if you wanna give me some ideas for everyone’s favourite lawyer!

pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader

warnings: lingerie, pussy drunk Hiromi (it’s canon don’t fight me), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it folks) and other goodies

Masterlist

“Will that be everything for you today?” The cheery assistant asked offering a genuine smile whilst they rang through your purchases and packed them carefully into a neat little box.

Your stomach fluttered with the thought of what might transpire this coming weekend, a long-planned weekend that couldn’t arrive quick enough. The delicate tissue paper wrapped around the items inside the box before the assistant closed it over, tied a ribbon securely and placed it in a paper bag.

“Yes, that’s it. Thank you for your help earlier, I appreciate it!”

With a bounce in your step and a sizeable dent in your bank balance, you exited the boutique store to daydream about your husband’s reaction to your little splurge. Neither of you were accustomed to dropping large sums of money so randomly, both believing that an air of caution and frugality would see you through any potential storms on the horizon, but you had walked past this store so many times and finally been tempted into their den of sinful delights.

Inclusive-sized mannequins displayed a range of differently styled lingerie, from demure bridal wear to raunchy strips of leather and wide mesh that would leave very little to the imagination. At first, you were convinced it would only be window shopping, however, when you spied an elegant-looking black bodysuit that seemed like it would hold all your bits in without compromising the sex appeal element, it was game over.

Once you were interested, the friendly young assistant swooped in and soon you were trying it on in the fancy dressing room. The lighting was complimenting rather than garishly fluorescent, and the lull of soft, sensual music added to the overall experience, one you were rather enjoying. The strapless bodysuit hugged your curves and accentuated your décolletage nicely. Clearly, it was designed by scientists to support your breasts without cumbersome straps, and you silently praised their ingenuity. Paired with crotchless fishnet tights that you could secure beneath the suit—a suggestion from your enthusiastic little helper—you knew that Hiromi would likely lose his mind and you couldn’t wait.

Your poor, overworked and perpetually exhausted husband had been burning the candle at both ends for the past nearly four months, neck deep in a case that if he were to win would be a monumental victory in his career. In support, you packed him off every morning with a full lunch consisting of his favourite foods, mostly to encourage him to actually eat instead of consuming mug after mug of rancid instant coffee. In your evenings, you helped him go over witness testimonies, read over his arguments for clarity, and did everything you could to lighten his load around the house. It wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement, you both knew that, and to say he appreciated your support was an understatement.

That’s why when he told you that it was all drawing to a conclusion and that he was cautiously optimistic it would end in his favour, you revelled in that knowledge. Whether it did come to fruition or not, his weekend would be free, and he promised to spend some real quality time with you without the cloud of looming work. There was nothing more he could do, no more past cases he could study and the thought of basking in his undivided attention warmed your heart and soul.

With two days remaining before your scheduled weekend plans to do absolutely nothing but relax and unwind in each other’s presence, you again peeked at the box you’d tucked into your side of the wardrobe, away from prying eyes. Maybe it was a bout of nerves, a moment of body consciousness, that made you pull your surprise out to examine the contents. Whatever it was, you worried your bottom lip once the intimate outfit was laid out on the bedspread.

“What was I thinking… this is too much,” you quietly scolded yourself.

Flopping beside the expensive scraps of fabric, you brushed a palm down your face and reminded yourself that you looked fucking divine in the changing room of the boutique, so why would it be any different now? More so, you knew deep in your heart that Hiromi adored you and thought you were a goddess, one he claimed he didn’t deserve.

A few moments later, you stood in front of the mirrored wardrobe to scrutinise your reflection. Your eyes narrowed as you tugged the sweetheart cups into place and felt the soft squish of your breast jiggle inside. Turning to the side, a hand ran the length of your torso with a grin unfurling at the tight hug of the sheer-panelled fabric. Damn, your backside looked real good from this angle. But maybe the fishnets were too much, you mused, turning this way and that.

You ran your fingers through your hair, wondering if you should try to style it, maybe give it some more volume and texture. It was at that moment, whilst making kissy faces at your reflection with your hands scrunching handfuls of your hair and up on your tippy toes to extend the length of your legs, that the bedroom door opened, and you froze like a deer in headlights.

Higuruma Hiromi was on cloud nine. Not only had he won a career-defining case against all the odds, but the judge had also taken less time to deliberate than anyone expected they would. After a hearty swig of celebratory champagne drank from crappy paper cups with his partner and their secretaries, he was on the first train home to truly celebrate with the only person that mattered—you.

What he didn’t expect to find when he entered the house as stealthily as he could manage was the vision of you standing in the middle of the bedroom looking like one of the pin-up models from the magazines he would hide under his mattress as a young man.

Like a slightly tipsy house cat, he tiptoed his way through the rooms, listening for signs of you and driving straight towards the bedroom to surprise you with his unannounced return. The door bounced open on its hinges and he stood, shell-shocked for a moment before it turned to white-hot appreciation.

You looked beautiful, stunning, breathtaking even. There weren’t enough colourful adjectives for how he felt about you at any given time, but right now, modelling a black bodysuit that hugged both your butt and your breasts, he was entirely dumbstruck. Hiromi didn’t know where to look, or whether you’d rather he look away given your strangled yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. You made no effort to cover yourself or shove him out the door, no, you both faced one another as if neither of you knew what to do or say.

His eyes continued to betray him, slowly caressing the length of your figure and finding new things to appreciate; the sweetheart cups, the gauzy panels that allowed him glimpses of your skin beneath, and not to mention the fishnet tights. He hadn’t seen you wear anything like those since your dating years, and he had forgotten how much he missed them, or how many he had ruined by ripping through the gusset in his haste.

“What are you doing home?” You glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and back to your husband, heat filling your face but something else followed on the tails of your embarrassment, something more pleasant.

Hiromi ran this thumb over his mouth, gaze pointedly fixed on your chest, and you cleared your throat with emphasis until he finally met your eye and the arch of your eyebrow. Already his neck looked red, like a rash had spread from below the collar of his shirt and travelled towards his jaw. If you could describe a person as having hearts for eyes, it would be one Higuruma Hiromi and you adored him for his open adoration.

“We… I won,” he managed weakly, smiling as if coming out of a daze and you blinked for a moment while processing the words.

“You won?”

He chuckled. “I won.”

A wealth of emotions passed over your face until you ended with ecstatic pride, tears near pricking your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms and peppered his cheeks and nose with enough kisses to make him blush more furiously. His hands settled on your hips, his touch more hesitant than you would expect given the circumstances and you pulled back to give him a questioning look.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be more excited than this.”

“Darling…” he started, skimming his fingertips up and down your sides before rounding to your full backside and squeezing as he spoke. “What’s this?”

In your joy, you had forgotten that Hiromi had walked in on you wearing the lingerie that was meant to be for this weekend and meant to be a surprise. You guessed it still had been, although not the one you planned. “Oh, just a little something to show my hardworking man that I love and adore him. Nothing much.”

“Nothing much…” he repeated in a disbelieving whisper. A finger ran the length of your spine, from the top of your backside to near the base of your skull, dragging it slowly and watching you shudder beneath his deliberate touch. Your shoulder blades shifted, pushing your chest out further and into his, which earned you a groan of appreciation.

“I wouldn’t call this nothing much. You look like a wet dream come to life.”

He walked you backwards, the scent of champagne hot on his breath and your stomach curled into a mass of twisted anticipation—heavy in the depths of your belly. Your thighs crashed into the edge of the bed and Hiromi used your moment of imbalance to shove you atop, quickly shucking out of his jacket and crawling over you.

“Hiromi,” you squeaked between peals of laughter. The man in question only hummed in response, his hooded eyes heavy with nothing that spoke of fatigue. The whisky colour of his eyes appeared blown almost completely black by the dilation of his pupils, and he licked over his lips in what looked like anticipation of a hearty meal.

That meal was you…

Any protest you might have offered died in your throat when he claimed your mouth like a man possessed. His tongue curled over your teeth, pushing the memory of champagne into the space he dominated and greedily swallowing your answering moan. His forearms bracketed your head, keeping you caged and unable to run from him, not that you had any desire to, not when you could feel the press of his cock thickening against your lower half.

Loosening the knot of his tie with one finger, you took the moment to grab fistfuls of the shirt at his back, tugging the tails out of his trousers and sliding your palms beneath the starched surface to scratch along his spine. Hiromi shuddered, the disconnect of your lips an audible pop that left a web of saliva between you, only breaking with a quick swipe of your pink tongue.

“I don’t even have my make-up or hair done, you beast!” The half-hearted protest fell on deaf ears, or so you thought when his mouth moved to your neck and down to your collarbone, sucking little blooming lovebites on his journey. When he reached the abundant swell of your breasts, he glanced up whilst his tongue pathed across the top of your left breast, dipping into the valley between and then resuming the path over the right.

“You think I need face paint or styled hair to love you more? Fuck, sweetheart… I nearly came in my briefs the minute I opened the door.” The length of his aquiline nose nudged between your breasts, nuzzling the soft mounds like a cat warming by the fire. Carding your fingers through his hair, you wriggled beneath him and let out a breathy sigh, the weight and conviction of his love settling over you in perfect comfort. There would be no more argument from you, and Hiromi won for the second time that day.

With methodical slowness he kissed his way down your body, stopping to lave the sheer panels at either side of your abdomen and forcing you to arch from the warm sensation of his eager tongue. You’d barely managed to get his shirt off his shoulders before he was exploring you like this was his first time with your body. The white button-up hung down his back, sleeves caught by his elbows, and he made no move to strip it off much to your annoyance.

He stopped abruptly when he reached your pelvic mound, chin resting there whilst his fingers trailed the arch of your foot, up the inside of your calf and tickled behind your knee. “Stop that, mister!” You scolded with laughter threatening to bubble out.

“Spread ‘em and I will,” he challenged with a smirk.

The space between your freshly parted thighs became his home, an arm wound around your hip pawing at the fat of your thigh and the line where it met your arse, eliciting shivers that rippled over your skin like a calm lake disturbed by a skimming stone. He fingered the two snaps that kept the bodysuit in place, stroking firmly over your clothed cunt and pushing the barrier deeper until it started to feel sticky from your arousal. Looking all too smug, he freed the snaps with a grunt of satisfaction, sure that his next step would be to rip through the gusset of your raunchy fishnets so he could taste you. That moment never came.

You felt the vibration shudder through your husband, his head falling forward to obscure what you could see of his face, and you rocked your hips back and forth in invitation. The cool air of the room contrasted by the hot fan of his breath on your slit made you clench around a disappointing nothing, frowning at his sudden pause.

For a long moment, there was only silence. When he looked up, his expression nearly stole your breath. Thick black eyebrows pinched together, visible strain around his drooped eyes and a throaty whine made your pussy flutter with need. This was the Hiromi that only came out to play every now and again. The one who would wring you like a wet dish towel for just one more orgasm, one more mouthful of your hot nectar.

“Crotchless, really?” he murmured, dragging a finger across your puffy folds where the thin membrane of the tights should have resided and you nearly jolted upwards to the ceiling, having forgotten that little fact in the heat of the moment.

Cupping his cheek in your palm, you gave a cheeky wink. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the pairs of tights you’ve ruined over the years. These were just a… precaution.” Hiromi groaned, thrusting his face into your pussy without warning. The flat of his tongue ran the length of you, making you perfectly slippery in mere seconds, only for the tip of the wet muscle to fuck into your entrance immediately.

“Oh, fuck… Hiro!”

You yanked great tufts of his hair to no avail; he was lost to eating you out like a man starved. The prominent slope of his nose slid back and forth across your bundle of nerves, and it lit up your insides like the continuous explosion of miniature firecrackers.

Whining from his sudden onslaught, you tried to run by easing up the bed, but your attempts were shot down in flames by sharp insistent tugs of your hips. Hiromi was enthusiastic at the best of times when it came to going down on you, but it was nothing compared to right now. The wet squelching sucks of his lips and tongue flooded the bedroom, only being accompanied by your decadent moans and panting breaths as you tried not to lose your sanity entirely.

Hiromi was lost in you; the scent of your favourite body wash, the taste of your arousal when it trickled from your core mixed with the slight salt of your skin, the plush silk of your thighs beneath his prodding fingertips and the unrestrained noises that caressed his ears.

He almost missed your orgasm so clouded was his mind in the quest to turn you into a puddle of liquid goo for only his consumption. The wave of it crested through the length of your body, vibrating every limb and twitching each nerve ending. Your spine arched from the unmade sheets, the hand coiled tight in Hiromi’s hair spasming and tugging without even meaning to and that’s when he noticed. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his lips around your pulsing clit and sucked it deeper into his mouth.

Stars winked into your vision at being thrust from one orgasm directly into another so violently. Your pussy fluttered ceaselessly, a craving deep in your gut to be filled at all costs, yet right now all you could do was hold on for dear life whilst you bucked and rutted against your husband’s face, wetting it thoroughly. He nosed at your quaking thigh, sharp incisors nipping your yielding flesh until you yelped and tried to close your legs without success.

You became aware of movement, the absence of shoulders beneath your thighs and you blinked to find a desperate predator stripping off his clothes whilst prowling back and forth at the foot of the bed. Hiromi grasped his cock, tugging it down to the base to spread the leaked precum that continued to dribble from his cockhead. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he had already cum, but he was always the excitable type who would leak and leak until you did something about it, usually opting to take him down your throat until he convulsed and spilt everything he had to offer.

Your hand trailed lower down your body, fingers playing in the spit-soaked mess he’d left behind in his hurry to stand and strip. Hiromi whined; head cocked to the side as he watched you play idly with your puffy lips flooded with the surge of blood and circling your pert little pearl. He fucked his fist harder, the other hand rolling his heavy balls until his stomach sucked in and your nostrils flared in warning.

“C’mere mister lawyer, I don’t want you wasting your orgasm when it could be filling me nicely.”

How quickly the tables could turn. One minute he was the predator, pawing and demanding, taking what he wanted without question, and the next he was the prey. Trapped on his back with cheeks a ruddy hue and eyes that begged for clemency. Your much small hand encased his dick, twisting your palm on each upward stroke while you straddled him and rocked yourself against the balls he’d just been palming.

His hands shook with restraint as they reached for your breasts, filling his broad palms and massaging them until you dipped low to claim his lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his mouth and the sensation empowered you, fucking his throbbing cock through your folds until he twitched and whimpered some more.

“Please… fuck. Need to be inside. Might not last. God, you’re so fucking sexy. Don’t deserve you.” Hiromi babbled every syllable, sounding drunk when there was little to no alcohol left in his system.

His fingertips dipped inside the cups of your bodysuit, tweaking at your nipples and you indulged his silent request by allowing him to fold the cups down and let the spill of your tits fill his face. With renewed vigour and enthusiasm, he mouthed at you and ran his tongue in circles around your nipples one at a time.

You keened at the familiar sensation, swept away by a current of pure indulgence when he moved to suckle you. It was the perfect moment to strike, with Hiromi distracted in flicking his tongue over and over, round and round your swollen bud, you guided him to notch at your entrance and slowly sank onto his needy dick. He grunted; his grip tightening on your waist, but he refused to come up for air, continuing to nudge his nose into your breast, lips pulling the nipple taut until he finally released with a gasp.

“Fuck, I love you. I love you more than I can express.”

Hiromi worshipped you with his gaze, eyes full of devotion and unbridled passion whilst you rode him steadily. The sticky pap pap pap of your pelvis meeting his was the soundtrack to your lovemaking, because beneath the sexy lingerie and the ideas you had planned for the weekend, that’s what this was and always would be. You knew he didn’t need the extra faff to love you with his whole heart. You knew that he was aroused by you simply walking through the kitchen in a pair of his boxers.

You knew he loved you for you.

His dappled cheeks darkened further, the furrow of his brow telling of how he was trying to stave off his release, but you wanted him as undone as you had been, and you would not be denied. Leaning forward, your palms found purchase on his shoulders, breasts bouncing freely in time with your hips, and you squeezed around his shaft until the vein in his temple popped and he let out a guttural groan.

Hiromi grabbed around your middle, flipping you up and over so that he could thrust himself into overstimulation without hindrance. Pressing your thighs to your chest, you heard the telltale rip and knew that another pair of tights had fallen victim to Higuruma Hiromi despite your best efforts to keep them safe. His swollen cock pumped thick spurts of his milky cum against your cervix, filling you to the brim yet continuing to sloppily thrust in and out.

“-cum again… gotta—fuckkk. You’re so tight,” he bit through the words, fighting the steady burn of overstimulation to see you orgasm for the third time and you were close. A glob of spit landed against your clit, thick fingers shaking from exertion rubbing the frothy mess into you with insistent motions. He was a man possessed, falling apart for him was as easy as drawing breath and he caught you on your free fall.

You chanted his name in some semblance of a prayer, thrashing and clawing at anything you could reach until you milked him again and he lost the ability to hold himself up. Hiromi fell atop you, his face pressed into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hot shuddering moans stifled by his mouth on your neck while he weakly tried to bear some of his weight onto an arm.

“Stop squirming, you’re not that heavy, Hiro,” you teased with a light slap against his back.

Once you could both speak without sounding winded, you combed your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, moving the strands that stuck to his forehead away until you could trace his eyebrows, his jaw, and the bridge of his nose. “Y’know… you ripped my tights—again.”

Hiromi chuckled, rubbing his cheek against your chest. “I did, and I’d do it again. Maybe give them a miss if we do this again, hm?”

“You liked the surprise then?”

“I already told you that I did, not that I needed it. All I ever need is you.”

It was your turn to chuckle, booping the tip of his nose. “Maybe when I show you the receipt, you’ll change your tune.”

“… sweetheart. How much did it cost? Don’t roll away, missy! Answer my question. Hey. Hey! You have to answer the lawyer when they ask a question.”

#delirious writes #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk higuruma #hiromi x reader #hiromi smut #higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

568 notes · View notes

st4rymoon · 2 months

Note

Can u please make a Steven smut where the reader is obsessed with pink and Marc gets her light pink lingerie but she thinks it’s from Steven and she puts on a show for him

This <3

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞 • Fem Reader x Marc Spector (ft. Steven <3)

- 18+, reader is obsessed with pink <3, riding!, jealousy, Marc fronts half way through the deed :3, soft dom Steven, mean dom Marc, unprotected sex!, reader wears lingerie, language, pet names, fingering!, teasing

Even when Marc was angry with you, he couldn’t help but buy you a few gifts while he was away doing Khonshus dirty work.

He picked out some pretty lace sets, all different shades of pink and fully aware that you loved anything pink. Once you’d moved in, there was always a hint of pink in every direction of his flat.

Steven didn’t mind it, he loved it but Marc and Jake weren’t the biggest fans of pink blankets and pillows littering their dull apartment. Sometimes Marc would even notice the pink fluff from your plushies on his jackets and shirts.

He would never admit it but he couldn’t help but smile whenever he noticed it.

Steven had called you the night before, letting you know your boys are back from their monthly work trips.

Marc had left the bag full of lace panties and lingerie sitting on his bed with pink tissue paper fluffing up the bag. He couldn’t wait to see you light up at the kind gesture he planned.

You stepped into an empty apartment, no sight of anyone but Gus swimming around in his tank. A buzz from your phone caught your attention “sorry love Donna is making me close tonight. I’ll be out in 30”your phone read.

Disappointed at the message you sighed but sent a reassuring text telling Steven not to worry. You’d just make yourself at home.

You tried to ignore the pink bag sitting pretty on the bed the second you walked in but as always, you were curious at what it could be.

For my favorite girl was written in pink ink on a small piece of paper, a string keeping it in place as it hung around one of the bags arms.

You smiled at the small message and slowly pulled the stuffing from bag. You squealed at the sight of delicate light pink lace sets of lingerie and sets of under garments.

There was no hesitation as you kicked off your clothes and picked out your favorite piece. You went for the soft pink set that came with a bra, panties, and matching garter belt.

The panties are embroidered with a white trim, the garter belt having two pretty pink bows on both your upper thighs and the bra having identical details making it all satisfyingly match. You looked like the perfect present for your boys.

You smiled at your reflection noticing how good it all fit. Steven really did know your size you thought.

You waited for Steven as you set the mood. Lighting a few candles and playing one of Jake’s more sensual records did a lot for the little flat.

Hearing the doorknob turn made you perk up, your body now facing the door as you posed yourself in the sexist position possible.

“I’m sorry love I really am, Donna and her bloody rules” Steven hissed as he burst inside. “It’s ok, you’ll make it up” you cooed.

Steven gasped, his shoulder bag slipping off onto the ground as he stood with his mouth wide open “bloody hell love” he huffed as he stumbled across the living room and made his way to you.

You giggled as you jumped onto the bed, playfully running from Steven as he pulled at your legs. He ignored Marc’s curses and insults as Steven savored the sight of your thick thighs being hugged by the thin elastic strand of cloth.

Steven I bought it ALL for her you little shit. Don’t you dare take the fucking credit!

The words flew through Steven’s ears “missed you so much darling” he whined as you pulled him in for a kiss, the words swallowed down by your lips as you kissed him hungrily.

Both of you moaned into each other as Steven’s arms laid beside your head, holding himself up steady as you wrapped your legs around him. “Show me how much you missed me then” you cooed.

Steven you asshole!

Marc’s voice echoed in Steven’s head as Marc tried his best to ask nicely. He didn’t want to take over the body but he didn’t appreciate Steven getting all the credit. The gifts were just one of the many apologies Marc had planned out but here Steven was indulging himself.

Steven this is the last time I ask nicely.

You squirmed as Steven’s hands ran up your thighs, his soft touch making you moan as he buried himself in your neck. His tongue lapped and sucked at your skin all the while his hips rocked onto your clothed body.

“N- No!”

You noticed as Marc took over, the once soft grip now rough as his hands held your thighs like letting go was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I bought you these, I wanna see ‘em” he hissed as he pushed out Steven’s pleads and curses. “Do you really think Steven’s the only one who can do something nice for you?”

You moaned as Marc’s hand snaked from under your spine and up to your hair. “Answer me” he hissed as he tugged a fist full of your hair back “No” you gasped “I- I just thought you hated pink. I’d think you’d buy me something red” you now confidently spoke.

“Wrong” he hummed “well I’m sorry, I just thought stev-“ you were cut short as Marc tugged your panties to the side and without a word he pushed two thick fingers into your tight cunt.

You mewled as he hummed with a cocky smile on his face. Marc payed attention to the sound of your needy whines growing louder with each of his thrusts.

Without a second thought he pulled out his fingers. You cried in agony as he ignored you “please Marc I’m sorry” you whined in hopes of getting him back between your legs.

“I know, I know you are bunny” he hummed “jus’ be patient. Just be patient.”

You spread your legs wide as you watched him begin to unbuckle his belt, his hand expertly moving his buckle to the side and in one quick tug he yanked the thick leather from around his waist.

Seeing Marc so impatient and irritated at the fact that someone else was taking credit for his actions was something you never knew you needed.

The way his ruffled hair bounced with his rushed movements as he kicked his jeans off was mesmerizing. Your eyes dumbly stared at his v-line as he tossed another layer of clothing.

“You want somethin’ honey?” He chuckled, his hand nudging your thighs apart as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your plump lips. The sloppy kiss makes the both of you moan as your tongues intertwine and lap at each other.

Marc’s calloused hand plants itself softly around your neck as his hips grind into your sticky cunt. You could feel your slick begin to pool in the thin lace as he spread your legs wider.

“Marc” you moaned, your breath unsteady as his hands ran up your thighs and played with the thin straps of your garter belt. All he let out was a hum as his eyes dragged down your body and locked between your thighs.

A loud gasp slipped from your lips as two of his calloused fingers pulled the soft fabric of your panties to the side, two fingers instantly pushing into your tight cunt. “Marccc” his name rolled off your tongue in a purr, your hand wrapping onto his wrist as he watched you go dumb.

“This all it takes? Tsk”

Marc pulled away without a warning “Look at all this mess” he sighed as he held his fingers up to his face, his thick digits now covered in your sticky slick “open” he mouthed.

Without hesitation you did as told and tasted yourself “don’t swallow” he smiled. You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth as your tongue swirling around his digits.

Marc groaned as he yanked his fingers out and held you by the sides of your jaw to keep your mouth open so he could get a taste for himself.

“I think I want you above me sweetheart, that pathetic little look on your face will look even better from above” Marc hummed.

He loved how obedient you always are with him because in no time you were pushing him onto the pillows and straddling his thighs.

You managed to tug his boxers down to his knees by the time he got comfortable “I bet you were all worked up when Steve-“ Marc cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.

“Of course I’d be upset, I wanted to be the one greeted in this pretty outfit. I bought it for you and me for a reason so I won’t let Steven or Jake get a chance” he cockily smiled.

You nodded with an amused expression “oh yeah?”

“Yeah” Marc hissed.

“Torturing the both of them just to see me in this?” You pout “it’s so unfair” you cooed as you settled above his tip “I know it is, I’m selfish” he groaned with his eyes trained on your cunt.

“Very selfish” you cooed as you sunk down his length. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he settled deep inside you, his fat tip nudging deep as you sat onto his thighs.

Marc’s eyes rolled back into his skull as he felt your tight walls squeeze him with a vice grip “f- oh-“ he gasped as your hips began to move.

You watched as his jaw tightened with every heavy thrust of his hips.

You bloody asshole! I was the first here

She wanted me first

Marc blocked out Steven’s curses and pleads as he watched your tight cunt stretch around his fat length. You were already gushing slick as Marc buried his face into the crook of your neck.

He chuckled at the lewd sounds your pussy with his hands planted on your waist. He pressed a messy kiss onto your neck before taking a better look of the mess you were making.

“Shit” Marc cursed as he took in how soaked you were “miss me this much bunny? Look at how fucking easy it is to make you all wet and sticky” he chuckled.

He smiled at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your tight cunt “using your cum as a lube huh? What’s got you so sensitive” he teased. You ignored his words as you expertly swayed your hips and rode him for all he’s got.

You mewled as each word coming out of Marc’s mouth was followed by a heavy thrust. You clawed and scratched at his shoulders as he spread your legs wide, pinning them open to each side with his thighs for better leeway.

You couldn’t resist the high pitched moan that spilled from your lips as Marc mumbling to himself. Heavy-eyed and a passionate look in his eyes as he went on and on about how good your pussy is, how much he missed being in you, and how smart it was of him to buy you these pretty little outfits.

Look so fuckin’ pretty sweetheart. Taking it like a champ huh? My sweet little plaything takin’ me so well.

You couldn’t get a word out as Marc fucked you dumb with a heavy hand on your throat “Mmm- Ma- Marccc” you mewled, nails dragging down his arms as you try and get a hold of him.

Marc hummed and gave you his hand to squeeze knowing you always craved some extra comfort. Steven watched through the mirror with a large frown on his face as he watched you cum around Marc’s cock, your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as Marc glared at Steven with cocky smile.

“Who’s making you feel this good honey? Say it” Marc taunted “Marc Ma- ohh fuckk” you hiccuped “say it louder” he cooed.

Steven’s couldn’t watch. He was beyond furious as the pretty cries of Marc’s name you let out echoed through the room.

“Could Steven fuck you this good?”

Marc was cruel knowing you had no damn clue what you were saying, so cock drunk you didn’t even realize what you were getting yourself into.

“No no only you Marc fu-“

Steven scoffed. He’d just have to remind you how much better he is at fucking you.

#marc spector x you #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector #smut #marvel smut #moon knight smut #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #moon kingdom #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven smut

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hxltic · 9 months

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Just read like all of ur stuff and it’s so gooood! Saw ur post abt price ideas and what about one where he keeps pictures of you, sure there’s the cute ones but then there’s the spicy ones that he keeps as well and you find out but you’re not mad ikykik;))

You and Price have always had a healthy relationship; somehow always back and forth with harmless banter like an old couple, but the chivalry never seems to die. He was the sweetest thing, so sweet it seemed fake. Just like the movies.

The both of you would wake up and brush your teeth, the feeling so surreal in the morning you wouldn’t be surprised if a camera crew popped out of nowhere. You would make sure to make breakfast as he worked in his office.

The technology he used was so advanced, it hurt to look at the three widescreen monitors curved around the desk with several different screens and tabs pulled up. You just rest the plate beside him and lean down to peck him. He had his glasses on for work with papers stacked elsewhere.

And despite being focused, he will never deny your lips. He habitually leans up to find them. The brush of his perfectly sculpted facial hair never gets old.

Like you said, everything was so nice. Sometimes you worked out in the garden. Other times, you read a book or did pilates in the sunroom. Whenever you finished, your husband would either locate the bathroom and hug you from behind, his large biceps encasing almost your entire frame; or come in the bedroom and manually lay you out along the bed. His rough hands would treat you delicately, folding skin and tissue for a well-needed massage. God, you were spoiled.

Life was good. With no kids too? You were his one and only. His main priority.

And don’t even mention when you both go out for dinner. The dress you wear sculpts your body just right, your pretty breasts on display for him all night. He comes around the hood to open the car door for you, plus have his large hand awaiting yours patiently. A soft smile with his tight eyes leads you out of the vehicle.

Your heels clank along the pavement until the valet directs the car away, his arm wrapped around your waist until it disconnects to hold the wide restaurant door open for you. You kiss his cheek on your way in while attempting not to smudge the red on his face.

Once you sit, you go to place the strap of your purse along the back of the chair. He offers to hold it on his side for you.

“Hello and how is everyone doing on this fine evening,” the waiter starts, “My name is Jack and I will be serving you both today.”

Jack passes out the menus and John plucks it to read. He slightly squints without his glasses, but only a little. You smile at the observation.

“Is there anything special going on today?” Jack glances between the two of you.

“Not necessarily,” John shifts and gestures to you politely, “dinner with my lady.”

Sometime later Jack finally leaves, leaving you and your husband. You admire the place around you and the atmosphere. It was warm inside with low lighting, a flickering candle and a centerpiece being the only thing separating you two but a large chandelier decorating the ceiling. A plus about being married to him is that you two definitely weren’t low on money. And with no kids, he had no problems spending it.

You two talk like normal. It was so comfortable: your spot in life, your relationship with him, the environment knowing there’s a trained man by your side—you couldn’t ask for anything more.

Sometimes he’ll just gaze at you with pure delight, and the sight makes you smile back at him.

“What?” you blush and your face brightens.

“You’re a beauty.” he replies. He was taking a mental picture with the perfect lighting, your done hair, beautiful eyebrows, eyes, dress, everything about you. And on top of that, the necklace from the day you got married rested just above your breasts.

. .

After dessert, you conversed with him until the waiter returned. Suddenly, he gently takes the napkin and rests it on the table.

“I’ll be right back; have to go the restroom.”

You nod patiently as he arises and proceeds to walk on. He halts beside your seat and places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?”

You nod again, but just in case it wouldn’t suffice, a soft “yes” falls from your lips. You know that you’re the happiest thing to happen to him, and he’d be damned if something from his own profession took that away. His head slightly dips affirmative before he fishes out his wallet and holds it to you.

You really were just going to wait until he came back, but this was better. You take it from him and flip it between your fingers to keep you occupied.

Dinner with him was so good you never even thought about your phone. And in the slim chance you did, it would make you feel bad or improper to use it. Of course he wouldn’t mind if you took a glimpse or shot a quick message, but it’s just your mental.

Jack comes around with the check, and just as quick as he came, he left. In the other hand there was a hot plate of food.

You skim the thin paper and make sure everything was calculated correctly. Your fingers unfold the black, leather wallet currently in your hands, then search for the card you notice he always picked on this occasion.

Your nails proved a problem in retrieving it from its pocket but it doesn’t stop you. You slip it behind the clear plastic of the book.

Jack comes back around.

You could wait for John to sign it, but it would take longer, so you decide to just sign it anyway. Was it illegal? Maybe.

Once the final receipts in the book are placed in front of you, you receive the card, slide it back in its previous position, then sign the tip off.

Your bag was across the table, but you trusted the security of the restaurant. So instead, you unfold the wallet and look around.

His I.D, Driver’s license, military registration stuff, A line of cards, some cash, and a picture. Of you. You’re in the sun smiling, the picture hazy and the glow on your face bouncing off your eyes. You wore a pretty sundress.

You try your best to pull it out without disturbing anything else, and when you do, you almost gasp in the restaurant when it unfolds.

There was a long list of them, some more innocent than others. And when you finally realize just how non-innocent the others were, a red flushes across your cheeks, accompanying the blush you had already put on.

One was in the lingerie you bought for his birthday. Another was you both at the bar, but only you were in the picture, the dress high on your thighs and a drink pulled up to your lips flirtatiously. That one wasn’t that bad, especially compared to the one right under it.

It was taken from behind, your arch on display. Obviously you had no clothes on—though you couldn’t see much but your loose hair, your back, only a hint of under-boob pressed into the bed sheets, and his single ring-adorned right hand holding on to yours. the picture cut off down about three fourths of your back.

Your left hand was gripping onto the sheets for life.

Your face wasn’t in it, and they were all pictures you had no problems with him taking, but the fact that he keeps them in his wallet is something you wouldn’t have thought of in a million years. Before you hold them out too long in a fancy restaurant, you fold them up and put it back.

You rest it on the table and sit your hands in your lap. Right on cue, he returns.

“Are you ready?”

He doesn’t bother to sit down and instead grabs your purse for you. He notices your quick movements and quietness. He’s picked up attentive habits being in the forces so long, so he can’t ignore how red you are. He places your bag on the table.

“Are you alright?” He asks softly. Your chin lifts with his thumb on it and another under.

“I’m okay,” you say, a lot lighter than usual. This prompts you to stand before he can get a good look at your countenance. He watches you move swiftly, then reaches for his wallet— but then it hits him like a truck.

In realization, he holds the wallet up and stares at it, then back at you. A cheeky grin grows on him, and he’s prepared to tease you for the rest of the day. It starts when you grab your purse and speed walk away, aware that he’s figured it out. He also knows you’ve been snooping.

. .

You get home, and once you thought he’d forgotten, you return to your bubbly self again. It only retreats when he’s on a knee, undoing the strap of your heels.

“Thank you baby. I love you,” you grin.

“Always. I love you too sweetheart,” he slides it off and massages your calf. “Love you so much I carry you around everywhere I go.”

You’re not sure if he did it on purpose, but your thoughts immediately trailed to earlier. You blush all over again.

He chuckles deeply as you now look away from him, but warm lips and a bit of his hair meet the slope of your foot.

©️ hxltic

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17020 · 29 days

Text

☆ THE SUITE.

It's Yoichi Isagi's birthday, and he attends his best friend's football match. 0.7k crack, fluff. happy birthday yoi !!! srry for the late post.

YOICHI ISAGI is uncomplicated when it comes to his birthdays.

He is content with a small sweet treat, as well as spending time with his loved ones. Nothing big, no birthday extravaganza. Yoichi Isagi is a simple guy.

So he got ecstatic when his best friend Meguru had sent him a ticket to one of his upcoming matches, which just so happened to land on his birthday.

It was the perfect plan: A flight to Barcelona. Barcha v. Paris X Gen, competing for the Champions League quarter finals. He was offered VIP seating, given that Meguru owned a suite, as well as a nice dinner at his best friend's apartment.

The flight was, for the most part, unpleasant. He tried his best to sleep all eighteen hours of the flight, but the crying baby behind him did not do Yoichi any favors. He arrived at his best friend's apartment (because of course, Meguru had given him a spare key, in case he ever were to surprise him with a visit), he grabbed the keys to the suite which Meguru had left for him at the countertop and quickly left for the stadium.

The stadium was packed. As expected, since F.C. Barcha and Paris X Gen were some of the biggest names in the European football leagues. His phone buzzed as soon as he was about to slide the key into the suite's lock. He pulled his phone out, only to see that it was a text from Meguru.

Bachira HAPPY BIRTHDAY lmk when youre insideee enjoy your gift and youure welcommeee ;)))))

Yoichi's lips curled into a smile, before the corners on his lips turned down in fear. His eyes were wide open as he unlocked the door, fearing for his life, because no surprise from Meguru Bachira was a good surprise.

This time he seemed to have been proven wrong as the door slid open, revealing Bastard Munchen's Social Media Manager (and his 'silly little work crush' that has lasted for more than a year), Yn Ln, sitting on the suite's couch. Along with Yn were a few tealight candles on the countertop, a nice floral arrangement with roses and tulips, as well as a cake and birthday candles.

"Isagi, I've been waiting for forever! Happy birthday!" you smiled, standing up and walking towards the boy. With open arms you pulled him in for a hug, slowly swaying both of your bodies side to side. His cheeks were dusted pink as you pulled away, running towards the countertop and picking up a gift bag, handing it to him, gesturing for him to open it. He rummaged through the tissue paper, only to find a light blue braided bracelet.

"I know light blue's your favorite color, and I saw it a few weeks back on a handicraft market when we had our match in Munich!"

Yoichi Isagi swore he was going to cry.

He smiled, and this time it was him who had his arms tightly wrapped around you. Blinded by excitement, he nuzzled his face into your neck, muttering many "thank you's."

"Can you put it on me?"

With your cheeks hot and tinted red, you took the bracelet from his hand, slowly pulling it open and sliding it in, adjusting it on his wrist so that it did not fall. Yoichi's eyes gleamed with joy, his gaze fixated on the bracelet. He felt like a little kid who got his dream gift. 'I'm never taking this off I swear I swear I swear I swear I—'

The sound of a whistle caught his attention. The match had begun. Taking your hand in his, Yoichi guided you towards the suite's balcony, sitting down to watch Meguru (as well as your other friends and acquaintances) go against each other. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, and in return you rested your head on his shoulder.

With a total of 48 minutes, the first half came to an end. Both you and Yoichi stepped back inside, discussing the first half and how it took you by surprise: Barcha and PXG were 1-1.

Yoichi's phone buzzed again.

Bachira I see things are going GREAT ill send u some food during halftime hahaha bone apple teeth don't get nasty in my suite

His brows furrowed from the confusion.

Isagi What do you mean 'you see'?

Yoichi Isagi was horrified.

Bachira yeah with my baby monitor 5" with 30 hour battery 2 cameras with pan-tilt-zoom 100 ft range video audio monitor no wifi night vision 2 way talk with lullabies dont make me use the 2 way talk man make your move

No surprise from Bachira is a good surprise after all.

#blue lock x reader #yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x y/n #isagi x y/n

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lovessidney · 6 months

Text

You're worth finding

Please note that this explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Trigger warning: Alcohol abuse.

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Pronouns: none, I think (anatomy: AFAB).

Requested by: @xpsidedownn

Summary: You and Gerard get into a terrible fight. They’re drinking in a worrying kind of way and all you want is to help them, but it doesn’t go down the way you want it to. You spend the evening looking for them and in the end, you make up.

A/n: This request has taken me aaaaaaaaages, and I’m so so so sorry. I’ve had the worst writers block and have been working my ass off both with uni and actual work. But it’s finally done.

Also, I'm switching up my writing. So, if you’ve read anything of mine maybe you’ve seen I’ve always written in third-person perspective. I don’t know why. However, that led to a lot of names, pronouns and (y/n)s, so I’ve decided to try first-person perspective. I hope y’all like it.

Second ”also”, I’m in no way trying to glamorise alcohol abuse, and I tried to be respectful about it. I fully understand it’s a very real disease and I’m in no way trying to portray it unfairly or disrespectfully. Still; if any of you feel like I’ve gotten something wrong or find it disrespectful, please let me know and I will do my best to alter the story or simply remove it.

Your timer beeped, letting you know it was time to start boiling pasta. The sauce to accompany it was already simmering in a pot beside the one now containing pasta. It smelled wonderful, you had to admit.

Gerard had had a very rough week, stressing a lot for tonight’s gig. In an ordinary situation, you would’ve been there to support them, as well as the rest of the band. Unfortunately, you had one hell of a cold and had spent most of the past few days in bed, accompanied by various medicines and wads of paper tissues.

Despite it all, you wanted to do something nice for Gerard. Dinner and a movie, at home edition. So you had made your way to the local supermarket, getting ingredients for their favourite pasta dish, as well as snacks and an unusually nice bottle of red wine.

When you got home, you had a shower and even dressed up just a little bit nicer than usual. And now you stood in the kitchen, just finishing up the last of the dinner preparations.

You looked toward the table. There were candles lit, a fresh bouquet of roses, and two glasses of red wine. Soft music played in the background, adding to the soft and romantic atmosphere.

You could hear a key being inserted into the lock. Or at least, it sounded like someone was trying to unlock the door. A few moments passed, and the struggle persisted. Your mind started wandering. It wasn’t the first time this happened. And as good as every time it did, Gerard was drunk beyond belief.

Your heart sank, and immediately your mood changed. You weren’t angry. Not at all. You were just worried about them. They had been drinking much more, and much more often lately. You knew something was wrong. Gerard probably knew it too, deep down somewhere. But they weren’t in a place to accept that or accept help. Not right now.

A few more moments passed by, and you decided to go let them in yourself. They almost fell inside as you opened the door. Clearly, they had been leaning against it while trying to find the right key and unlock the door.

You caught them in your arms and immediately smelled the alcohol on their breath. You wrapped your arms around them, holding them close. Even if this wasn’t what you had imagined, you were glad to have them home.

For a while, you just stood there, arms wrapped around each other. “Hi, honey,” you finally said and kissed them when you had let go of each other.

“Hi, you,” they answered, slightly swaying on the spot as you let go of them.

You tried not to let your brow furrow with concern as you looked at them. Still, they noticed. “It smells really nice. Have you been cooking?” they asked, in an attempt to cheer you up. But they were still swaying, their words were slurred, and it just broke your heart. It would’ve been one thing if they were drunk but otherwise in good spirits, but that sadness in their eyes worried you. You know that they hadn’t gotten drunk to celebrate another good gig, but rather to escape something, and it just killed you.

You smiled at them. “Thanks, Gee. Are you hungry?” you asked while lacing your fingers together. They nodded tiredly. You led them to the kitchen. It wasn’t many steps from the hallway to the kitchen, but they still almost crashed into a wall on your way there.

In the end, you decided just to sit them down on one of the chairs and serve them their food before getting your own. Before you sat down, Gerard had already emptied their glass of wine. You could feel the tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Honey, has something happened?” you asked them. Usually, they got drunk, but when they came home to you, they tried to dial it down. Not this time, though.

They looked at you with tired, empty eyes and said nothing. They just reached for the bottle and poured another glass. It was more than what you would usually pour into a glass of that kind. Especially for a somewhat romantic dinner. They lifted the glass to their lips.

“Gee, please, you have to talk to me,” you somewhat pleaded, somewhat demanded.

Gerard’s gaze flickered from the glass to you, their eyes clouded with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Talk? About what?” Their words were sharp, and their tone laced with bitterness.

“About what’s been going on, Gerard. You’ve been drinking so much lately, and I’m scared. Something’s not right, and I want to help you.”

They scoffed, their laughter tinged with bitter irony. “Oh, now you’re an expert on my life, huh? You think you know what’s best for me?”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to make them understand. “No, Gerard, I don’t think I know what’s best for you. But I can’t just stand here and watch you destroy yourself. You’re drowning in this, and I don’t know how to help you if you won’t let me in.”

Gerard pushed themselves up from the chair, their legs scraping against the floor with an awful screech. Their face contorted with frustration and they jabbed a finger in your direction. “You think I’m the problem? You think I need to be fixed, like some broken toy?”

Your voice trembled as you tried to reason with them. “No, Gerard, you’re not a problem to be fixed. You’re a person who’s hurting, and I love you. I just want you to talk to me, to let me in. Please.”

They took a step toward you, their eyes blazing with a mix of anger and despair. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t fix me! No one can. So stop trying!”

The weight of their words hung in the air, suffocating the room. You felt tears streaming down your face as you watched them walk out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, with the remnants of your romantic dinner and a heavy sense of helplessness hanging in the air.

The plates and the rest of the supposed-to-be romantic dinner sat on the table, untouched, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had just unfolded. You knew that you couldn’t force Gerard to talk or change their ways. They had to want to change for themselves.

With a heavy heart, you got up and began cleaning up the kitchen. The candles you had lit earlier flickered softly as you extinguished them one by one. The roses in the bouquet still looked beautiful, but their presence seemed bittersweet now.

After cleaning up the kitchen, you found yourself sitting alone in the dimly lit room. Tears had streaked your cheeks, leaving trails of sadness in their wake. The bottle of wine on the table tempted you, almost like a silent, soothing friend. But you knew that indulging in it wouldn’t be right, not after what the fight had been about. So, you chose cold water to quench both your thirst and your emotions.

Sipping the water, you gazed out of the window at the dark night sky. Memories of what romantic dinners used to be flooded your mind. The laughter, the shared dreams, the way Gerard’s eyes used to light up when you surprised them with their favourite meal. You held onto those memories like a lifeline, knowing that someday, you’d find your way back to that happiness. And with that, you also knew that you had to find Gerard, wherever they had gone off to.

With determination in your heart and a sense of purpose, you headed out into the night, leaving your home behind. The city around you was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows on the empty streets. The echoes of your argument with Gerard still reverberated in your mind, but you refused to let despair consume you.

You got into your car and just drove, without any plan at all, as if you hoped Gerard would just turn up. You drove through the darkened streets, memories of your time together replaying in your mind. The city held so many moments – moments of joy and love. You remembered the motel where you had stayed temporarily when you last moved, a place that despite everything held many good memories and lots of hope for the future.

Though you didn’t know why, something deep inside you told you that Gerard might be there. Maybe it was a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a time when things were simpler, a time when you were each other’s everything.

As you pulled up to the motel, you felt a surge of both anxiety and anticipation. You hesitated for a moment, your hand gripping the car’s steering wheel, before finally stepping out into the night.

The motel was just as you remembered it – a nondescript building with a neon sign flickering intermittently. You parked the car and took a deep breath, unsure of what you would find inside.

Entering the dimly lit lobby, you approached the reception desk, your heart pounding with uncertainty. The tired-looking motel clerk glanced up from a magazine, offering a weary smile. “Can I help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask. “Has someone named Gerard checked in here?”

The clerk raised an eyebrow, seeming uninterested at first. But then, after a moment of thought, he nodded slowly. “Yeah, there was a guy who checked in about an hour ago, they looked pretty out of it. Room 205.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was as if a surge of hope had washed over you. You thanked the clerk and stepped outside again, looking for room 205.

Gerard was sitting outside the door of 205, a pack of beer beside them and a cigarette to their lips. They looked absolutely miserable.

As you walked closer, Gerard looked up at you. They blinked a few times, just to make sure what they were seeing was true. They fumbled for words for a moment. “How did you find me?” they said, their words slightly slurred. “I don’t know honey. Something just told me you’d be here.”

You sat down beside Gerard and leaned your head on their shoulder. They held the cigarette out for you to take a drag, and they looked at you while you did. “You’re so pretty,” they said with sad, bloodshot eyes.

“Gerard honey, so are you. You’re my darling.” You placed a soft kiss on their cheek. “I’m so sorry I got angry before honey. I just get worried about you.”

Gerard looked at you with big eyes. “I’m sorry too. I know you’re just looking out for me. I know I’m hard to love sometimes.” You carefully pushed a strand of hair from Gerard’s face. “You’re not hard to love, honey, I love you the most in the entire world. I just want you to be okay.”

You just sat there together for a moment, taking turns with the cigarette. You leaned your head on Gerard’s shoulder again, just wanting to be close.

The night air was cool against your skin as you and Gerard sat there, side by side, sharing the cigarette. Time seemed to slow down, the weight of the argument and the tension from earlier dissipating in the shared moment of calm.

Gerard’s fingers brushed against yours as they took another drag from the cigarette. Their gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon as if searching for answers in the darkness. “I don’t want to be this way, you know,” Gerard finally confessed, their voice a mixture of vulnerability and regret.

You squeezed their hand gently, offering reassurance. “I know, Gerard. It’s not easy, but you’re not alone. We’ll face it together.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Gerard’s lips. “You always know how to make me feel better,” they whispered, their words carried away by the breeze. “That’s what I’m here for,” you replied softly, leaning your head against their shoulder once more. “We’ll get through this.”

After a while, the cigarette burned down to its last embers, and Gerard extinguished it against the pavement. They turned their head to look at you, their eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “You’re my rock, you know?” You chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “And you’re mine. The ups and the downs, they’re all part of who you are.”

Gerard leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a tender affirmation of your connection. “Let’s go home,” they said softly, their hand finding yours. Together, you stood up, leaving behind the worries and strife of the evening.

Back in the car, as you drove through the quiet streets toward your apartment, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Gerard’s hand rested on your thigh, their fingers tracing absent patterns as if seeking comfort in just touching you. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a reminder that life continued beyond the challenges you faced.

When you arrived home, you led Gerard inside, the familiarity of the space providing a sense of grounding. Gerard’s band posters adorned the walls, a testament to their musical passion. You once again settled in the kitchen. Gerard looked at you with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you for finding me,” they said softly. “You’re worth finding,” you replied, a gentle smile curving your lips.

“How about some tea?” you suggested. “And maybe some toast as well?” Gerard’s eyes lit up for a moment. “Are you sure? It’s late, and you probably want to sleep, and-” “Nonsense,” you said, retrieving the tea and a kettle. “Anything to help you feel better. And I’ve heard eating bread is good when you’ve had alcohol.”

You put a record on, and soon, the kettle whistled, and you poured the steaming water into cups, the soothing scent of chamomile enveloped the room. With a plate of warm toast in hand, you settled on the couch, passing Gerard a cup of tea and a slice of toast. They took a sip and let out a contented sigh.

“You really know how to make everything better,” they said with a soft smile.

“It’s a talent,” you quipped, a playful grin on your face. Gerard leaned in, their lips meeting yours in a soft kiss.

“I love you,” they murmured against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart feeling full and light.

As you both savoured the tea and sandwiches, the world outside faded into the background. At that moment, it was just you and Gerard, a testament to the strength of your bond and the willingness to weather the storms together. The scars of the evening were healing, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and the knowledge that love could conquer even the darkest of moments.

You sat together, mostly in silence, listening to the soft tunes the record player emitted. An array of candles glimmered on the table in front of you. Gerard had had almost all of their tea, while yours remained mostly untouched.

Despite having them back here with you, you still worried. You loved them so much, and all you wanted was for them to be okay. And the one thing you wanted least of all was to be angry. Sure, you knew that anger wasn’t the real emotion. The real emotion was worry, and feeling powerless, not able to protect them. And for some terrible reason that sometimes morphed into anger. The ugly, secondary emotion.

You looked over at Gerard, sitting curled up under a blanket at the opposite end of the sofa. They looked tired. Both as in that they needed to sleep, but also tired as in worn down, as in that they were having a hard time. You scooted closer and stretched your arms around them. A smile played on their lips for a moment. You allowed them to set their mug of tea down before pulling them into your arms. “Come here, honey.” They gladly fell into your arms and cuddled up there.

You sat together like that for a long time. You listened to Gerard’s breath and carefully stroked their hair. The record had come to its end, and the only sounds were now your breathing and Gerard’s yawns.

“Do you want to go to bed, darling?” you asked when you noticed the yawns becoming more frequent. They looked up at you, their eyes now tired instead of glazed over.

They nodded sleepily. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The slurring was almost entirely gone now, and when Gerard walked to the bedroom, they didn’t stumble anymore.

“Okay, I’ll be right there, honey,” you said with a smile their way before collecting the dishes and taking them to the kitchen. After the dishes were set down, you got a glass from the cupboard and filled it almost to the brim with water before bringing it to Gerard in the bedroom.

They were already lying in bed, looking like they’d fall asleep any moment. You reached out the glass of water to Gerard. “Have some water, Gee, I think it’ll make you feel slightly better in the morning.”

They nodded and reached for the glass. A few sips later, they put the glass down on the nightstand and reached out for you. You were too tired to properly hang your clothes up and simply threw them on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. You slipped under the covers and cuddled up close to Gerard. For a moment, you just lay there, looking at each other.

You scooted closer and nuzzled your nose against Gerard’s. Carefully, Gerard reached their hand up to caress your cheek. “I love you, honey,” you whispered. A small smile played on their lips. “I love you the most in the entire world, actually. And I’ll never stop loving you. You know that, Gerard?”

Gerard nodded carefully. “I love you too. And I’m sorry about before.”

That sadness reached Gerard’s eyes again. Just as before, it shattered your heart. You didn’t even know what to say, so you just leaned in to kiss them. ”You don’t have to apologise honey. I’m just glad to have you home again.” And with that, you kissed them again.

As the weight of the evening’s events began to lift, and the warmth of reconciliation and love enveloped you both, the bedroom felt like a sanctuary. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your faces as you continued to exchange kisses.

The kisses were soft at first, a gentle exploration of each other’s lips. Your fingers traced the contours of Gerard’s face, eliciting a soft sigh of contentment from them. Their hands moved slowly, too, caressing your back and shoulders as the intimacy between you deepened.

You couldn’t help but smile between kisses, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. The taste of chamomile tea lingered on Gerards lips, adding a sweet and comforting layer to your kisses. In the dim light, you gazed into Gerard’s eyes, searching for any lingering traces of sadness.

Their gaze met yours with a newfound intensity, a desire to be present in the moment, to be close, to feel cherished.

The tenderness of your kisses gradually gave way to a more passionate longing. Your breaths quickened as your mouths moved together with an urgency that mirrored the intensity of your emotions. Fingers began to trace the curves of bodies, exploring the familiar terrain of each other’s skin.

Gerard’s soft moans filled the room, a symphony of desire and affection. The layers of clothing became an obstacle, one that you both eagerly discarded, exposing the vulnerability and beauty of your bodies.

Skin against skin, your bodies entwined, the warmth of Gerard pressed against you. You savoured every sensation, every touch, every kiss. The scent of your shared perfume, the taste of Gerard on your tongue, the feeling of their soft hair under your fingertips. The slow and gentle movements, the tender caresses, the breathless sighs and soft cries of pleasure.

Gerards hands left their place on the small of your beck and found their way upwards, one cupping your breast and one around your shoulders to pull you closer. They caressed you carefully and you could feel them growing harder against you.

You ground your hips against Gerard, seeking the friction that you both craved, urging them to continue the exploration. They obliged willingly, moving downwards from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and licks as they went.

Their warm breath ghosted over your body, making you shudder with anticipation. Their eyes were fixed on you, observing every twitch and moan of pleasure as their tongue made contact with your inner thigh. They were teasing you, taking their time, enjoying the moment.

Your body ached for more, desperate for their touch, but instead, they continued their leisurely exploration of your skin. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they kissed you there. You could feel yourself dripping as they slipped a finger inside you.

Gerards lips closed around your clit and they sucked softly. A strangled cry escaped your lips as they slid another finger inside you, curling it to find your most sensitive spot.

It was too much and not enough at the same time, your senses were overwhelmed by Gerard. You gripped the sheets tightly, arching your back as they continued their ministrations.

Their mouth on your clit, their fingers inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs trembled, and your whole body tensed as the pleasure built up. Gerards lips pulled back from your clit and their tongue pressed down against it.

"Oh god, Gerard...," you gasped as they worked their fingers inside you. The slow and deep movements made you dizzy with pleasure, and you couldn't help but grind against their hand. "I want you."

Your words had an instant effect on Gerard. They looked up at you, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Tell me what you want." It was not teasing or demeaning the way they said it. You knew it just turned them on so much to hear you say it.

You could barely speak through the waves of pleasure coursing through you, but you knew exactly what you wanted. "I want you to fuck me, Gerard. I love you so much and I want you to fuck me"

They nodded, removing their hand from your body and getting onto their knees. The sight of them in this position was almost too much for you to handle. They looked down at you, gaze full of desire and affection. "I'd be happy to, darling."

Gerard positioned themselves between your legs, entering you slowly, inch by inch, filling you with pleasure. Their thrusts were deep and deliberate, making you shudder with joy every time they bottomed out inside you. You wrapped your legs around their waist, pulling them closer, urging them to continue.

You could feel the warmth of their skin against yours as they moved inside you, the sensation sending tingles down your spine. Their kisses became more urgent, their movements faster, but still maintaining their steady rhythm.

As the heat between you intensified, the sound of your moans and gasps filled the room. Gerard looked down at you, their gaze full of love and tenderness. They kissed your lips again, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. "I love you, my sweet," they murmured, their voice hoarse with pleasure.

Your climax was building quickly, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable heights. You threw your head back and rambled their name over and over as the wave of ecstasy crashed down on you, sending shockwaves through your body. They continued to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Gerard, I... oh god, I can't..." You sobbed in pleasure as your body began to tremble.

They understood your need and stopped moving, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure that still made waves in your body. Gerard stayed still until your breathing steadied and you smiled up at them. You blinked at them for a moment, just taking in their beauty.

You pulled them downwards for a soft kiss before gently rolling them onto their back. They looked up at you with a confused expression, clearly not expecting this development.

"My turn," you whispered, kissing them again. "I want to make love to you."

Your lips found their way down their neck and chest, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You enjoyed the taste of their skin, savouring the salty sweetness of their sweat as you moved lower. Their breaths quickened with excitement as your mouth found their nipples. You flicked your tongue over their hardening nub and they moaned softly in pleasure.

You continued your descent, trailing kisses across their stomach until you reached their cock. You glanced up at them, smiling as you pressed your mouth against the warm skin above it. The smell of their arousal was strong, and you could feel yourself becoming even wetter with anticipation of another round.

Their hips rose to meet you as you kissed them there, so soft and tender. Your hands wrapped around their cock, stroking them slowly, watching them shiver under your touch. "Oh god, that feels so good." They were beautiful like this, eyes closed, back arched, body responding to your every touch. You loved seeing them in the throes of passion, unable to contain their pleasure, giving into the sensations of your touch and tongue.

Your lips continued to move lower, kissing their inner thighs and sensitive areas that made them quiver. You took your time, enjoying the moment as you licked and sucked, exploring every inch of their skin until you reached the base of their cock.

Gerard looked down at you, gasping for breath, watching with wonder as you took them into your mouth. Your tongue was quick and deliberate, licking and sucking just the right way to make them see stars. They moaned as you took them deep inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and moving your head back and forth.

Their hips rose to meet you again, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper and deeper. You were happy to oblige, taking them all inside you until they gasped for air.

"Oh my god," they murmured, shivering as you continued to suck. "That feels incredible."

You hummed in agreement, the vibrations of your voice making them twitch and groan in pleasure. The sensation was delicious, and you knew it wouldn't take long before they came undone under your tongue. You loved seeing them fall apart like this, falling into your mouth and arms as you held them close.

Gerard pulled you upwards for another kiss. You moved closer, pressing your body against theirs, kissing their neck and chest as they struggled to breathe. Their skin was warm and flushed, radiating pleasure and affection. They were gorgeous like this, so needy and desperate for more.

You felt the heat rising between you again, bodies grinding together, their cock hard and aching for more. You kissed them again, pulling them into a deep and hungry kiss that left them gasping for breath before positioning yourself over them.

"Are you ready?" You whispered, gazing down at them with a gentle expression on your face.

They nodded, wrapping their arms around your waist. "Please, my love."

Their eyes fluttered closed as you lowered yourself onto their cock. You took your time, letting the feeling of fullness take over your body.

You began to move slowly, taking long deep breaths as you rose and fell, building a rhythm that soon became urgent and frantic. Their hands roamed over your skin, caressing your breasts and back. The warmth between you intensified and you both gasped for air as you continued to move, bodies sweaty and entwined.

The pressure inside you grew unbearable again, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you came undone. You looked down at Gerard, their gaze filled with wonder and lust. Their moans were beautiful, soft and desperate, their body trembled and shuddered under your touch.

"I'm so close," they murmured, throwing their head back against the pillow and urging you to move faster, chasing the orgasm that threatened to consume them. "Honey, please... I need more.”

You quickened your movements, grinding against them, making them cry out in pleasure as their cock buried inside you. They looked up at you, their eyes pleading with you for release.

"Oh god, my love...," they whimpered, climax building rapidly. You could feel it coming closer, their body on the edge of ecstasy under you. You were so close yourself, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable heights, almost too much for you to take.

"I'm with you, honey," you murmured, lips moving against theirs as you spoke.

Gerard closed their eyes and moaned softly, their body shaking and trembling under yours. Their release was beautiful, making you gasp with pleasure as you joined them in their orgasm. Your bodies were still tangled together when you opened your eyes again. You couldn't help but smile, breathless and sweaty from lovemaking.

You leaned over them, planting soft kisses all over their face, cherishing the moment, taking in the beauty of them. They wrapped their arms around you, holding you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet words into your ear.

"Oh my love," they murmured, squeezing your hand. "I’m so lucky to have you."

Your eyes began to brim with tears, happiness bubbling up inside you. "I'm just as lucky to have you," you whispered, leaning in for a tender kiss. "I love you."

Their gaze was full of affection and tenderness, their fingers intertwined with yours. "I love you too," they whispered. "You are my world."

In the soft afterglow, Gerard cuddled up in your arms and you held them close, carefully running your fingers through their hair. The room was bathed in the gentle hues of the rising sun, casting a warm, golden light upon your entwined bodies.

You both knew this wasn’t a magical solution, and that Gerard would still have their ups and downs, it was going to be an uphill battle at times. But for now, everything felt good, and it felt like it was going to be better.

You smiled down at Gerard who had almost fallen asleep on your chest. You kissed the top of their head softly and pulled them closer. The sound of their breathing made you calm, and soon the both of you had fallen asleep.

I hate to sound like a YouTuber (no offence, lol) but thank you for reading if you made it all the way here. I hope you liked it. And don’t hesitate to send me any requests you might have. I have a lot to do right now, but I still like to hear new ideas. Okay, thanks a lot!

#My Chemical Romance fanfic #Gerard Way fanfic #Gerard Way x reader #Smut #Ssidney writes #Tw: alcohol

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boojangs · 6 months

Text

@blackenheartbutterfly this was hard because I absolutely loathe the smell of coffee 😂😂

Enid makes Wednesday a coffee body scrub, because of course she does 🖤🩷

Enid was something of a chemist, if you ever asked her what her hobbies included. She dabbled in all wares of self-care, from lotions, to creams, to any scrubs, even scented candles. Her nose was strong and sensitive, could pick up nuances in her creations with better ease than a bloodhound. She loved when things smelled nice, loved when she could change an entire mood, just by finding the proper scent. When she started rooming with Wednesday that first year, she learned that she smelled of peppermint and old books, metal polish, and a hint of something delightfully smokey. It was her favorite scent, especially since they’d started properly dating. She stole Wednesday’s hoodie as often as she could, sometimes even directly off her girlfriend, whenever she needed to be surrounded by the familiar, comforting scent.

She also learned that Wednesday was absolutely obsessed with coffee.

Enid was fully convinced that if she were to crack Wednesday Addams open, coffee would spill out. She learned how to make Wednesday’s preferred cup at the very beginning of her relationship, so that the antisocial seer could skip one more step in her usual morning routine: black with a dash of cinnamon.

It was after discovering this little fact about her girlfriend that Enid started toying around with the idea of a body scrub, handcrafted and perfectly tailored for her tiny paramour. Thing was her right-hand man in her different efforts, spending weeks trying to perfect the right amount of scent and the proper amount of grit, sure Wednesday would love the extra scrubbing power while in the shower. She’d tried it on herself and tried in on Thing, the deep, earthy aroma finally just the perfect amount of the well-loved brew that Wednesday enjoyed so much.

She flitted off to Jericho for a proper jar, none of her others the proper feel for such a gift, Thing perched on her shoulder as she shifted through the weird parts at Uriah’s Heap, the wolf eventually stumbling upon a skull-shaped mason jaw. Enid squeaked when she found it, quickly snatching it up and ringing out with Connie, the blonde skipping happily down the street to start on her brisk walk back to the academy. She hit the campus, already knowing that Wednesday was with Eugene, the time to collect their latest batch of honey upon the Hummers this time of year.

Enid sprinted up to their dorm and let Thing down onto their spare bed, the wolf disappearing into her closet for her stash of black-hued trimmings, sure to always keep something on hand, for the amount of times she found herself showering her girlfriend with gifts. She prepared everything perfectly, screwing on the lid to her jar and wrapping it in layers of black tissue paper, finishing the gift with a small, black metallic bow. She left it on the edge of her desk for Wednesday’s inevitable return as she got down to her own work, a K-pop playlist blaring in the background.

She heard familiar footsteps after a while, Enid cutting the music and snatching up her gift, keeping it hidden behind her back as she rocked on the balls of her feet, excitedly awaiting the return of her favorite person.

Wednesday sighed as she cracked the door open, weary from so much work out in the shed, her shoulders unfairly tight as she shrugged off her backpack, and looked up, noticing the excitable air about her girlfriend. Her face wrinkled in curiosity as she walked to meet Enid, her lips pursed as she peered up into those pretty blue eyes.

“You are excited,” she blinked at the eager nod, her arms absently folding as she openly surveyed the blonde, still in her uniform, “Have I missed something, querida?”

Enid snorted out a small laugh, shaking her head as she lifted one of her hands to lovingly tug on the corner of Wednesday’s lapel, “No, silly, you haven’t missed anything! I got you something, though,” she brought the gift out from behind her back, and presented the small bundle, “Ta-da!”

Wednesday glanced down at the small gift, her ears tipped red at the unsolicited present before reaching out to accept it, surprised at the weight as it settled in her palm. Her eyes flicked up to Enid, her flush darkening to a scarlet red as she read the happiness on Enid’s face, her heart flustering at how deeply it managed to always affect her.

She paced a step away as she unwrapped the hefty gift, her brows furrowing as she uncovered the skull-shaped jar, turning her head back toward Enid in mild confusion. The blonde chuckled and walked over, holding her hand out for the trash before nodding toward the jar.

“Wens, you have to open it,” she teased, and bent down to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

The seer nodded absently and screwed the lid off, the delectable smell of coffee immediately permeating her senses, her lashes fluttering slightly at the lovely aroma. Wednesday turned back to Enid, a silent question pressed into her face that had Enid grinning brightly in response.

“It’s a body scrub! I made it myself. Took forever to get the smell right, I had SO much tweaking to do. I figured you could use it whenever you wanted something different.”

Wednesday nodded, bending her head down to get a proper sniff before dipping her finger into the strange scrub, “Thank you, querida, this was unexpected.”

Enid wriggled her shoulders in excitement, Wednesday wandering back to her girlfriend to properly kiss her in hello and in thanks before closing the lid up tight, and leaving it off in the shower stall for later.

She didn’t miss the way Enid’s face lit up when she escaped the bathroom after her shower that night, her cheeks warm with affection at the thoughtful gift, the smell of coffee permanently ingrained into her skin.

She LOVED it.

#wenclair

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softevnstan · 1 year

Note

From the NSFW genarator

reader handing Bucky Barnes a bowl of cream/chocolate/honey and telling them to spread them on their own body where they want it eaten by reader. Bucky Barnes eagerly complies, and everything starts (or ends) with a sloppy smear on person Bucky Barnes's lips.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender neutral!reader

summary. for valentine's day, bucky brings you a bowl of whipped cream and strawberries. with a game proposition, you very quickly come to learn you're hungry for a different type of cream.

warnings. bucky loves you with all his heart but he's also a hard dom at heart. misuse of strawberries and whipped cream, dom/sub undertones, spitting/spit, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, food play - whipped cream, facefucking, petnames (specifically 'doll' and 'sugar', but these are intended to be for any partner, not just f), fluff, pre-established relationship SMUT - minors DNI. reader's bits are not mentioned in depth here so gender is ambiguous, i like all of my stories to be as inclusive as i can make them :)

a.n. hi, nonny, i wanted this to be out on valentine's day but some things in my personal life held that up. additionally: kinda interpreted this a little bit of the way i wanted to and the way i thought i'd best enjoy writing it, so bucky is the one with the game in mind (bonus: listen to this song as your background music like i did to add to the experience) -- reader is nerdy and likes things like books and candles and reading (reader is me projecting lbr)

also winterdevil friendship briefly mentioned bc i can

w.c. 7.3k

You were only a few pages into your new book - ‘Good Omens’; You’d heard good things about the story in its witty writing and amusing tale.

Bucky had been paying attention when you’d both gone on a bookshop date and scoured the shelves hopefully for the novel. Even when asking about the bookstore’s directory, the worker reluctantly let you know the book wasn’t in stock. You’d shrugged the loss off with a warm smile; ‘Better luck next time, right?’

Imagine your delight when Bucky brought you a red gift bag with four golden arrows decoratively laid horizontally and stacked upon one another with the words ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’. Inside the bag had even more delightful contents; Peeling past the elegant golden tissue paper, you were excited to find your very own copy of the novel you’d been unable to find in stores. Additionally was a box of chocolates and a candle scented ‘Rose & Apple’.

“Aw, Bucky,” you swooned, “I thought we said no gifts…?” “I know,” Bucky admitted, moving around the kitchen island to come to stand behind you; Arms of flesh and vibranium slowly winding around your waist to hug your body to his own, settling into a comfortable hold so naturally. “But I like seeing you smile.”

You looked fondly at the cover of the book, thumb gently brushing over the paperback cover before setting it down on the counter. You bit your lips together in an appreciative smile, and you felt Bucky’s grin against the side of your neck where he tucked away. Nose rubbing affectionately against your pulse before pressing a chaste kiss.

“...At least now you won’t feel surprised when I tell you I got you a few gifts of your own,” you reveal as you turn your head to usher Bucky’s chin up. “Oh, of course, you got me something anyways!” Bucky huffed on an amused laugh, eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile, and your heart was left to melt.

He nosed into you lovingly, nuzzling and then pressing foreheads together. You took the opportunity to drape your arms around Bucky’s shoulders in a warm embrace; the rest of your quiet valentine’s day was spent peacefully with expensive sushi ordered to your shared apartment, moving the furniture and putting his records on to sway together playfully with giggles and kisses, then wrapped up with movies in the living room and popcorn kernels in between the couch cushions from the way you’d been pelting pieces at one another. You needed no fancy dinners or dates. You both were capable of making a night-in a remarkable memory all on its own.

Though the favor you called in from Zemo wound up with gifting Bucky a signed copy of ‘The Hobbit’ signed by J.R.R. Tolkien himself, and that was pretty good at also making an evening remarkable. The absolute awe in Bucky’s eyes and the way he’d gone slack-jawed when unwrapping the book was worth the six digits that were poured into the cost. Zemo had more than enough to spend and was happily willing to pay off his debt. A book was child’s play for Baron - simple.

You'd only been a few pages into your new book; Having been eager to begin drinking in the story as soon as possible. Bucky knew you were a bookworm; it's part of what you two had so in common - Bucky knew how to appreciate a good story, too. Eagerly diving into the paperback and excitedly tearing through pages was what you did best; On Multiple occasions where Bucky and you had surprised one another with blind-book dates and annotated novels for one another, reading was perhaps a love language between the both of you.

So you’d think Bucky would’ve expected that from you as soon as that book was between your nimble fingers. Good luck with any attempts that may sway your attention or distract you as a whole; everyone should know it’s useless to try. But Bucky wasn’t everyone else. Bucky knew you and knew how to wriggle his way in between you and a good book.

And his key tool for that this evening seemed to be a wooden food tray with a bowl of hulled strawberries and a tub of whipped cream, and then an additional can that made you raise a brow. Any skepticism was dropped in moments given the natural delight you felt with Bucky in a room. When it was just the two of you, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. “Surprise,” Bucky beamed softly, earning an amused smile from you in the process. He moved from the archway of the kitchen to step into the living room, rounding the coffee table to take his seat beside you on the couch.

“Strawberries? You shouldn’t have,” you hum appreciatively, picking up your bookmark to hold your page; You didn’t dog-ear your pages like some savage.

“Strawberries and Valentine’s Day go hand in hand last I checked. Whipped cream just makes it even better.” the soldier defends, earning a playful roll of your eyes.

“You’re makin’ me feel like a chump here, Bucky, we said no gifts and surprises,” you softly protest albeit with little sternness to your voice. Book abandoned on the side table of the couch, you leaned to reach for a piece of fruit.

“Ah ah ah,” Bucky stops you, vibranium hand coming to cover the mouth of the bowl. “This isn’t for nothin’, I wanna play a game, sweetheart…” The sultry purr to Bucky’s voice insinuates he’s up to no good. “Huh?” You pause, confused as you look between Bucky’s hand and the bowl. A game? “I should’ve known there’d be a catch. You’re a menace, James.” The words are light and teasing; No real harm behind them.

“Oh quit bein’ so dramatic,” Bucky playfully chides with a teasing pinch to your outer thigh - it makes you squeak in delight and burst into soft laughs before shooing his hand away. Bucky absolutely thrives on your smile and laugh; It drives him crazy. “I’m not dramatic, I’m melodramatic!” you titter happily. “Well, if by ‘melodramatic’ you mean ‘theatrical’,” Bucky commented with a mischievous grin as he safely set the tray on the coffee table. You took the liberty of pulling the throw pillow you’d been laying on and help it live up to its name; Hitting Bucky in the shoulder with the cushion for his ‘theatrical’ comment.

“You love me and my melodrama theatrics all the same, don’t act like you don’t.” “Alas, it’s true.” he sighs sweetly, nothing but love in his gray eyes as he says it; Smitten. The softness of it helps melt some of the banter that had been building. “...And what was this ‘game’ you were talking about, exactly, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes light up with arousal, wetting his lips and treating the question as though he couldn’t wait to answer. “Have you ever plaid chicken before, sunshine?” Bucky inquires, and your head shakes side to side. “Alright, I brought out whipped cream. Wherever one person smears whipped cream, the other has to lick it off. The first one to refuse - or chicken out - loses.”

Your own gaze widens with delight at the sound of the provocative game. At least a game was something you could get behind, and it definitely had a means of spicing things up with Bucky; Not that your sex life was boring, but something new every now and again was exciting for the both of you.

“Aw,” Bucky tuts sympathetically, “I can see it on your face, poor thing. The way your eyes lit up… Sheesh, people are gonna think m’not takin’ care of my babydoll.” The heat that rises to your face is familiar and leaves your chest feeling fluttery. “You do take care of me, Bucky,” you softly utter, squeezing your thighs together. “I wanna play.” the words are airy when they leave your lips, and the voice in which you speak makes Bucky stifle a soft groan in reply.

“Knew you would, baby. Such a perfect little thing, always onboard for whatever I want to try.” Bucky hums his approval and something inside of you swoons for the praise. He even takes a moment to use his fingers and tenderly brush the stray hairs from your face; touching you nothing but gently.

“Uh huh,” you confirm with a jerky nod and a doe-eyed look as Bucky smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He reaches for the container of whipped cream, popping the lid off. “Wait.” The thought creeps up on you.

Bucky stills briefly, eyes flickering to your face in a brief haze of concern. Pausing the act he’s been putting on for a moment to assure you’re not being genuine when you ask him to ‘wait’. You swallow around the tightness in your throat, attention solely on Bucky as you watch his studying face. Leave it to Bucky to be ready to fret over you at the drop of a dime.

“What if I win?” Bucky’s expression falls for a brief moment before twisting into disbelief and amusement. He laughs, entertained but relieved that’s where your concerns lie rather than somewhere more concerning.

“If you win, huh? Hmm,” Bucky takes a deliberate moment to hum and you shift with eager anticipation. Curious for whatever delicious thoughts may be brewing in that beautiful head of his. “Why don’t you choose — What would my babydoll want as a prize…?” the drawl of his voice nearly makes you squirm where you sit on the couch.

Your mind runs wild with ideas for half a moment before settling on something simple; “You have to go down on me, mouth only. No hands to help.” A swell of pride in your chest at the thought, you could already imagine Bucky looming over you and the warmth of his breath on your core before delving in without the aid of his hands.

Bucky seems to like the idea as well if the devilish way he watches you is anything to go off of.

“Sounds like a deal, and if you lose, you go down on me, sunshine.” You would hardly consider that a losing game.

“Sounds like a fair match - may the best player win,” you chuckle, the words a meager attempt to take back the reigns on your confidence and not become complete mush for this man by default. Bucky had this charming way of entrancing you. He did it to everyone that got to know him, half the time Bucky didn’t even need to think about it.

“I’ll get us started,” the sergeant takes lead - setting the lid of the whipped cream container on the coffee table and using a spoon he’d brought along with him to scoop up a dollop from the container. Messily, Bucky smears a dab across his bottom lip - all too aware of what he’s doing. Bucky may look innocent, but there are devil horns holding up that halo. You wonder if that’s a reflection of his friendship with Matt.

The grin Bucky wears is devilish when he looks at you; Eyes piercing and somehow even seductive with a swipe of whipped cream on his bottom lip. A soft giggle emits from your being before leaning to pluck up a strawberry. You use the piece of fruit to swipe along Bucky’s bottom lip, successfully scooping up traces of the whipped cream before taking a bite of the strawberry. The taste is ripe and sweet, no wonder they’re occasionally considered a form of natural aphrodisiac.

Bucky’s flesh hand finds your wrist tenderly after the first bite, causing you to arch a brow.

“Licking, sunshine.” Bucky corrects. “Pick at strawberries all you want, but the rules of the game required you to use your mouth. Otherwise, that’s not nearly as fun, is it?”

It’s moments like those that made you feel all light and fuzzy. When Bucky talks to you as though you were a helpless and useless thing; It makes your brain fog up with cotton with the way he speaks down to you.

“No, Bucky,” You exhale sweetly. “Good baby,” Bucky’s hand releases your wrist to lift and cup your cheek, giggling when you’re faced with the whipped cream on his lip again. Not as easy to take him so seriously. Bucky gives an amused huff at the response. “Now c’mon, before this melts and you have to lick that up, too.”

Popping the rest of your strawberry into your mouth, you finished chewing and swallowing before cupping Bucky’s jaw to steady him. Holding him in place when you lean forward into his space; being able to smell the traces of sandalwood and cinnamon on his skin made you shiver. It didn’t matter how many times you were like this with Bucky, your belly filled with butterflies every time in the best way. Tentatively you drag your tongue across his bottom lip, whipped cream sweet on your tongue.

There’s no chance to pull away when Bucky catches your lips in an immediate kiss following. Mouth slotting to yours in the opportunity that the man has, grinning against your lips like the cat that got the cream. His large palm lifted to come and cradle your cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing into your hair where it cups under your eat. Palm cooler than the average person due to the way his body ran cold, but your own warmth helped balance out the temperature difference from time to time. Your cheek felt like fire beneath this hand.

Bucky kisses you hungrily, a searing claim when he licks hot into your mouth and makes you whimper and shiver. Your fingers still hold his bearded cheeks as Bucky takes his time tasting you; Enjoying it far more than any whipped cream he could ever buy. Bucky parts only after he’s left you breathless, wiping a thumb at his bottom lip with a low chuckle. Your head is left to spin with your heart hammering in your ears.

“Been achin’ to kiss you like that all day,” Bucky confesses. Your lips tingle, mourning the loss of Bucky pressed against your like that. “You’ve had countless chances, Bucky - we’ve been here alone all day.” You defend while lacking a legitimate malice to your tone.

“It’s different,” you almost wave him off at the defense and make yourself busy with the whipped cream when Bucky elaborates. “I wanted to be soft with you today; I think we both deserve a little tenderness every once in a while. But sexy games give me a reason to kiss you like that.”

“Sometimes I struggle to believe that you’re the same stoic sergeant everyone quakes in front of.”

“I’m not; Not with you.” The words are raw, and it would make your heart turn to mush if you weren’t turned on by his kindness.

“You’re sexy when you’re sweet,” you coo, fingers brushing up his jaw to draw Bucky in for another quick kiss.

“And you’re sexy all the time, sunshine.” Bucky hums right back before meeting you partway for a small exchange of pecks. You both linger there for a moment, the kisses stolen not nearly as heady or heavy. Then you’re taking your turn. Parting lips and Bucky nearly chases your touch for more when you tut your tongue. A mock of his earlier tutting. “Aww,” you echo back to him, half condescending and half frisky. “I see it on your face, people are gonna think m’not taking care of my Buckybear.” though with your delivery, the words are far less menacing and end with you breaking the character to laugh, especially when Bucky is already crumbling into chuckles in front of you.

“‘Buckybear’?” Bucky parrots incredulously and entertained. “Trying out new nicknames,” you say with an innocent shrug, plucking up the spoon to get more cream on the utensil. “I think it’s cute.” “I like it,” Bucky agrees, shifting to get comfortable on the couch while his predatory gaze follows your hand. “It’s a nickname you gave me, just… Maybe let’s not let Sam hear this one.” “Does he still call you ‘Buckaboo’ sometimes?” You ask, momentarily distracted and appreciative that you and Bucky are able to break up seductive moments with cute ones. You’re convinced it’s proof you’re both truly in love to be able to be this casual and open with one another.

“Unfortunately. Torres heard Sam over the commlinks last week, both of them were dying of laughter.” Bucky deadpans, clearly not finding the situation as humorous as the boys did. You snicker with a shake of your head, assessing the spoon in your hand for a moment before setting it down in the container and abandoning it as a whole.

Instead, you pull your shirt up and over your head – stripping away the layer. The response it earns from Bucky fuels your confidence, the way he straightens up on the couch and wolf-whistles at each inch of skin you show off for him. Bucky always has a way of making you feel perfect; All your insecurities blanch when you were able to feel his comforting presence, always leaving you feeling loved and unequaled in your skin.

“Givin’ me a show, doll?” Bucky muses, a small tilt of his head while he studies you. “Why, enjoying the view?” You coo in turn, meeting Bucky with that same playful banter - this was a game after all, and games are meant to be fun. You discard the top haphazardly to the floor, no doubt to be gathered tomorrow morning.

“Oh absolutely. Got the prettiest baby in all of New York… I’m a very lucky man.” When Bucky speaks, his voice is thick and warms your face. Bucky is very much the flatterer.

“I know you like it when I say things like that,” doesn’t even hesitate to single you out on the thought. “When I remind you of how precious you are to me, sugar… Just how much I fucking adore you.” Bucky’s voice drips with lust and devotion. Utterly in love. It almost tempts you to drop the game before it gets too far in and have him now; Peel away the remaining layers separating you two and open your legs in an invitation for Bucky to fuck you so roughly into the couch that the legs break and the neighbors know Bucky’s name loud and clear.

God, you’re fucking whipped for this man.

Sometimes you’re still not prepared for the outpour of loving words; Still, you’re trying to remember that Bucky means the things he says and isn’t merely humoring you as exes have in the past. Bucky is nothing if not genuine.

“Keep sweet talking me, Sarge, and this game might end sooner than you want it to,” You warn with a coy smile before picking up the formerly abandoned spoon. “I’m bein’ honest,” Bucky defends, lifting his hands in a feigned and mischievous. “You know you love when I talk sweet to you, anyways, sugar.”

“You also know it makes me freeze up; I never know what to say things like that, Bucky.” a gentle reminder and your cheeks hurt from smiling - do you look stupid? Bucky would love you anyways, truth be told.

“Oh, but that’s the best part,” Bucky replies, leaning forward on the couch and closer into your bubble of space. Taking his time letting his eyes drink in the pretty sight you make for him without your top. “It turns you into putty, baby. You start floatin’ so easy, ‘s cute - it’s worth it gettin’ you cock-drunk in the end.”

You stutter - jaw clenching and you feel the tips of your ears burn. Bucky takes more sadistic amusement in the responses he pulls out of you. Plays you like a fiddle. It embarrasses you as much as it makes your thighs tighten and a wetness forms in your underwear. He works you up for fun. It’s maddening and exhilarating and perfect.

“Buckyyy,” you whine, pitiful and with a harmless scowl. Bucky’s laugh is rich and makes your face soften almost immediately. “Well, on with it, sunshine.” Bucky nods towards the spoon clutched between your fingers.

You take the moment to regain your composure. A deep breath - Attempting to shake out Bucky’s influence and his attempts to deduce you to a ditz so soon. Then, with the cold metal of the spoon, you smear a generous streak of whipped cream from your left clavicle to the top of your left breast.

When you lift your attention from your careful work, you find Bucky’s hungry eyes on you. Looking like a wolf preparing to strike his prey; Oh, to be littered with bites from Bucky’s mouth sounds like a dream.

“You’re bold tonight. I can already tell this is gonna be fun,” Bucky husks, voice low before moving into your space.

Right hand coming flush against your hip before smoothing up to frame your chest. He wedges himself between your legs, bringing your back flush with the arm of the couch as he looms over you; The semi that the soldier has been packing pressing prominently against your ass through his jeans. His vibranium hand brushes your hair out of your face, eyes studying you.

“You’re always so small under me...” Bucky hums, metal fingers brushing down your cheek as you lick some of the remaining whipped cream off the spoon; Putting on a show with the slow and deliberate lave it was the tip of his cock.

Bucky groans, his touch hardening where he holds your chest before lowering himself to let his hot mouth lick over your collarbone. Trailing down, his tongue glides across creamy sugar while littering open-mouth kisses to your flushed skin. His beard scratches against tender flesh and you keen underneath him - Bucky subtly presses tighter against your ass so his cock can make itself well acquainted and he growls low in his chest. Hot breath fanning over your flesh.

The soldier’s hot mouth threatens to go further, tempted to explore every inch of your delicate skin and leave you covered in hickeys. Bucky practices self-restraint, but not before licking up the swipe of whipped cream and suckling a deep hickey into your skin. The purpling skin is beautiful under his skillful tongue and you moan into the air of the living room.

May the best man win.

You’d both gone back and forth. After Bucky licked the mess from your chest and tasted the sugar on his tongue from a shared kiss, he had fun spraying whipped cream on his fingers.

Watching you have to take each digit between plump lips to suckle and lick the cream off. Beyond the sweetness of the cream, you could taste the roughness of his skin while he played with your tongue. Bucky even took the liberty of pressing his fingers to the flat of your tongue and holding your mouth open until you were drooling when there was no more cream left. When his fingers slip too far, you gag around the intrusion and Bucky grins.

He spits in your mouth to compensate for your time. You moan, thankful.

When it’s your turn again, you take the chance to shimmy your pants off next. Bucky licked his lips - watching you get undressed and not having to do a bit of the work but also being tempted with the inability to touch. Eager hands wanting nothing more to grip supple flesh and lay his claim while he takes you. With him. All good things come to those who wait.

You smeared whipped cream on your inner right thigh - dangerously close to your center and trailing towards your v-line. Bucky took his time settling between your legs. Kissed stamped to the inside of your calves, calloused hands smoothing out the outer of your thighs. Trailing upward, Bucky’s breath ever hot and the whipped cream threatens to drip.

Bucky catches the drop with his tongue before it can find the couch, licking up the inside of your thigh. His tongue makes you tingle and your brain stops working for a moment; shuddering under his touch and your toes curl. Bucky presses a kiss over the wet patch in your tight briefs and you hide your face. Your core quivers with want.

Bucky refuses to let you hide for long, working his way back up and gently prying your hands from your face. You share a heated kiss and sigh shakily against Bucky’s figure; Melting between him and the couch.

When it’s Bucky’s turn again, he takes a page out of your book and uses the opportunity to shed away layers. The jeans hugging his deliciously thick thighs are discarded, Bucky hiking up the plain black tee that left little to the imagination of the definition of his abdomen. It’s no mystery that Bucky was packed with muscle; Even in thick coats, you could still somehow always make out his distinct shape with rippling arms, a thick chest, and somehow a narrower waist. You’ve joked about him being a Disney princess once or twice.

The scoundrel smears the chilled spoon over his chiseled abs and for half a moment you’re in one of those steamy romance novels your mom would read and you’d giggle at.

You lap up the trail from over the concrete muscle down to Bucky’s groin - and he sighs out shaky and delighted. Hooded and heated eyes always watching you, you, you. Nothing else exists in the world to him other than your game. You feel a swell of pride knowing you have such a catch as Bucky; his thick fingers tangled in your hair and carding through as you innocently lick up the cream with a sinful tongue.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, sunshine.” the words are drawled out lazily and hushed from Bucky’s swollen lips; He’s been chewing them and biting like crazy.

The tent in his briefs doesn’t surprise you at all - you’d be insulted if he wasn’t aroused.

Still, you’ve taken every task he’s given you like a champ. Bucky is running out of safe skin to present, and you’re in for the long haul. Winning or losing makes no difference to you. By the end of the night, it’ll be Bucky’s hands that have touched you and brought you to your climax. No one else. You’ve already won.

But that doesn’t stop you from sitting back and shivering when the cold metal touches your bare nipples. Smearing a generous amount of cream to both bare and pebbling buds. Bucky is simply excited to get his mouth on you in a way that isn’t so safe anymore. His lips close around your nipple and leave you gasping - sucking and rolling the bud against his skilled and velvety tongue.

You’re wet; fingers holding Bucky’s head, merely along for the ride as he circles the areola with the tip of his tongue before pinching the delicate skin between his teeth and making you cry out. So sensitive. He kisses your ache better before subjecting the other nipple to the same torment; Bucky’s hot and wet mouth is heaven and your body speaks louder than your wanton moans or words ever will. You want him so unapologetically, and Bucky knows it. Prides himself on it, even.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re out of whipped cream and both of your teeth have rotted from your skull from the sugar; Something has to give otherwise the both of you could be at this all night - would that be so awful, though?

Bucky could wait you out easily. Run you out of choices until all that's left to cover with cream are the places he wants to get his tongue on the most. That's too easy; the back and forth between you two is what helps sparks fly.

Your fun is interrupted on Bucky's turn. He's trying to swipe whipped cream on his chest when he fumbles the spoon; the dollop slides right off the flimsy metal and falls to Bucky's bare shin, trailing down to his foot.

Both of your noses scrunch. Bucky's look of disgust is quickly replaced though by a mischievous glint, the soldier raising his leg up to balance his heel on the couch cushion.

"Better hop to it, honey." Bucky singsongs.

You playfully swat at his thick thigh, hand wanting to linger just to feel the muscle under your palm. How easy it would be to glide up and cup his cock.

"I'm not licking your foot, Bucky." You stifle the words only because you can't contain the giggles.

"Rules are rules - unless that means I win…?" Bucky perks up, and ah, no wonder why he got all delighted. He sees this as his golden ticket win.

No way he's serious. Your relationship and dynamic is very experimentational, but feet aren't on the table - sorry, Bucky. Licking one of his boots is a different story, but that's for another day where you have more time and the sweet words are replaced with filthy titles and the soldier joins you in the bedroom rather than your loving and chaste boyfriend.

“I’m not licking your foot.” You reiterate, “Pick somewhere else, for real?” “Ah ah ah, Sunshine. When we started playing we agreed.” Bucky protests and you are tempted to steal that spoon away from Bucky and swat another spoonful of whip cream at him. Instead, you pout; trying to wiggle your way. “Oh c’mon.” Bucky knows you won’t do it, the pain in the ass that he is (and you adore).

“Then I win,” Bucky declares matter-of-factly, and really, has defeat ever been such a pleasure? You shrug your shoulders to acknowledge your defeat, flashing the man across from you a bashful smile. At least you don't have whipped cream sticky on your foot - you're the real winner in that case.

“That means you, sunshine, gotta get that sweet mouth of yours on my cock.”

“Yes, Bucky,” you agree with an airy giggle. “I know what going down on someone means.”

When you go down on Bucky, he’s kind enough to give you a pillow to kneel on between his thighs. It helps recompense for the iron-grip in your hair as he guides your head up and down the steady length of his cock.

You’ve long started to adapt to the girth by now. The first time you’d attempted to go down on Bucky, the thickness of his cock had overwhelmed you. You could only take so much before nearly sputtering - and vomiting during sex isn’t sexy. It left you to have to make up for what your mouth couldn’t reach with skilled hands pumping the base of his dick and playing with his balls.

Now you can take Bucky without gagging, and it’s worth it to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head when you suck his cock. You’re his pretty cock-sleeve and Bucky has no problem letting you know it:

“Yeah, that’s it… Such a slutty fuckin’ mouth, droolin’ all over me, baby.” His fingers fist your hair at the root, every pull a delicious sting as he guides your head up and down his cock. The corners of your lips stretching around the intrusion, eyes watering and everytime you moan at the way he fucks your mouth, it sends a vibration through Bucky’s cock that just has him reeling for more. “Oh, oh God… I’ve got the prettiest fuckin’ cocksucker - a work of art."

The words are filthy yet flattering; your chest fluttering while your hands brace on Bucky’s thighs. You keep your jaw slack, making the slide as easy for him as possible as the tip of his cock abuses the back of your throat. There's a certain fulfilment that comes with being used so filthily; Solely existing for Bucky's pleasure in that moment as he shifts from guiding you to thrusting.

Your nose buries in the neatly trimmed pubic hair, flush with his pubic bone every time he cants his hips up into your willing mouth. This is how all blowjobs tend to go. With you taking the lead before Bucky can't handle it anymore and pummels your poor mouth.

It leaves a delicious ache.

Drool slips down your chin, doe-eyes fixed on Bucky despite the bleary picture he makes with tears dripping down your cheeks. Your sounds are muffled yet still whorish; your skin prickled with heat and the knot in your stomach slowly building. You grind your hips into the air looking for something to hump. You whine when you find nothing; more drool pooling past your red mouth as Bucky tilts his head back into the cushions with a low moan.

"That's it, take it, take all of my cock, baby. Like you were fuckin' made for it, mm, my precious little fuckhole. God, I love you, love my messy whore."

Your head is swimming, all you can focus on is the feel of the cock thrusting in and out of your slack mouth while Bucky uses your hole to his delight. Even when your head feels light from the lack of air, you float happily and trust Bucky. Bucky always takes care of you.

He tugs your head up by your hair, pulling you off his cock, and only then are you able to swallow lungfuls of air; gasping with spit-slick lips and a gossamer connects you to the tip of Bucky’s flushed cock.

“Cock-drunk. Like I said.” Bucky playfully chides and you whimper pitifully in response. Bucky laughs condescendingly at how pathetic you are and your chest blossoms. His hand cups your face tenderly, vibranium fingers wrapped around his dick while he smears his cockhead against your cheek. You turn your head instinctively towards the cock, mouthing wet kisses up the length and Bucky barks out a laugh at how hungry you are.

“Fuck, when did you get so desperate? You’d think I never touch you.” He traces your lips with the flushed tip; your tongue darts out to lap up the pre-come.

“As if I don’t have you bent over the nearest surface every other day; Pumping you full of my seed and leaving you fuckdumb.” Bucky slaps the length against your cheek wetly. You tongue down his shaft, as much as Bucky’s clutch in your hair will allow, and mouth at his balls hungrily. Bucky groans low and primal in his throat.

“Dirty, dirty…” His hand comes to hold your jaw, tongue sliding past your loose and parting lips. Playing with your tongue, Bucky shakes your head like a dog and you mewl. Fingers curling into the flaps of his jeans from where you’d pulled them open. “Shh, you’re alright, honey. M’just playin’ is all, yeah, you’re so cute like this. So airheaded n’ dumb.”

You suckle on Bucky’s thumb, your reply coming in a pleased purr to have your mouth full again. It’s not his dick, but you’re more than happy to bob your head. Bucky bites his lips and grins wickedly.

“I love how stupid you get for me, baby. It’s absolutely adorable, knowin’ you’d let me do anythin’ I wanted to you,” Bucky coos all too lovingly for it to be merely lust and heat.

He slips his thumb from your lips and you chase the digit with a whimper; Mourning the loss. Bucky just grips your hair again and pulls you back to his balls.

“C’mon, sunshine, suck on my balls.” The weight in your mouth nearly has you salivating, sucking on Bucky’s balls and right where you’re meant to be; Worshipping this man.

His cock is heavy against your face as Bucky jerks off to the gorgeous and whorish sight you make for him. The bruent groans, stroking his cock as Bucky watches you intently mouth as his heavy sac; Saliva dripping all over his skin and making a mess. His cock jerks infront of you, pulsing and veins bulging.

“That’s it, good pet… So fuckin’ good, yeah, you’re so perfect — Fuck, what am I gonna do with you..?” Bucky guides your mouth back to his cock. Up the length and taking the head between your lips before swallowing him down entirely. Back to the steady bob as you moan around the intrusion and Bucky groans roughly into the thick and heavy air.

“I wanna fuck your face, sunshine,” Bucky rasps out, and you stutter your ministrations for half a moment to peer up at him in the helpless daze that consumes you. “Yeah, you like that idea? Don’ gotta do nothin’, honey, just let me use that pretty fuckhole of yours.” The words purred out so sweetly, you profusely nod. Eager to be of use. Pulling off his cock, you utter the word: “O-Okay…” “Good fuckin’ pet…” Bucky’s fingers thread delicately through your hair until he’s tightening the grip. Sinking you down onto his length yet again and forcing you to take every inch he gives you. It doens’t stop there. Instead the soldier braces his feet on the carpet alongside where you’re sat between his open thighs. He pistons his hips up - hitting your gag reflex and causing you to sputter around his cock.

There is no mercy. Bucky fucks up into your face, setting a progressive pace to allow you to slowly adjust but not for long. It’s only a few moments later that he’s fucking up into you like his own personal hole. Piercing steely eyes burning through you as he watches you choke and sputter on his impressive girth. It’s a mess of spit and tears that stream down your cheeks from the brutality of the face-fucking.

Heavy balls slap against your jaw and Bucky moans. You tingle between your legs, wet from being able to be a tool for Bucky. An object of pleasure; Something about it has always turned you on in being able to please your partner. There’s no better pleasure than Bucky using you like the fuckhole you’re made to be, and he lets you know that.

“God, baby, you were made for this. Should just keep you for this one day; Make you my pretty little fuckdoll and the only thing you gotta worry about is fuckin’ yourself stupid on my cock. You make such a pretty sight, fuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you…” The litany is breathless as Bucky continues to thrust his dick in and out of your welcoming mouth.

You choke and sputter; Face hot and eyes burning with tears that drip off your chin in fat droplets. Cries die in your throat, high off the euphoria of the moment and burning on the adrenaline of being used as a fleshlight. Your lips ache; His pelvis smacks into you every time he ruts his hips up. Bucky slides down your throat easily. He’s right. You’re made for it.

You don’t know how long it goes on for. Instead you ogle in heaven, seeing and feeling nothing but Bucky. Even through the wet and slick squelches of your mouth being used, you couldn’t be happier. You roll your hips to find nothing - you suppose that’s the punishment of losing the game. Only one of you get off.

He fucks your face until you’re dizzy and can’t breathe. When you fear you might sputter for air is when Bucky unravels; Your throat flexing around his cock and fingers feeling every now and again in your throat for the tell-tale bulge.

It’s when Bucky’s hips stutter and the dirty talk bleeds more into primal noises rather than words. Grunts through his teeth, low growls while he abuses your throat up until the moment Bucky’s hips jerk harshly. The movements stutter, and Bucky punches out a harsh gasp. Then you feel it.

The hot pump of his come down your throat; Filling you up.

You threaten to choke and Bucky hushes you, rubbing sympathetically over your windpipe. “Shh shh, that’s it, swallow every last drop, baby. Take it all…” He rolls his hips impossibly deeper into your sore jaw. You feel drunk and you weren’t even the one that got to ride out their orgasm. With a few last grunts and rolls of his hips, Bucky withdraws from your sensitive mouth. Half-soft cock falling and you greedily swallow for air.

Bucky pets you through it all - whispering out your praise. How good you did for him. How much he loves you.

You take a moment to recover, head pillowed on Bucky’s inner thigh as he pets your hair lovingly. You drool onto the denim of his jeans, and if Bucky minds, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he watches you with loving eyes and a soft hum; As if this wasn’t the same man who just deduced you to his filthy fuckhole. If you didn't know any better, sometimes you'd think the man who fucks you and the man who bought you a book you'd been dying trying to find for Valentine's day were two separate people.

Bucky does it because he knows you love it. You could tap out any time with the special little word you both selected months ago when your sex life began to spicen up past vanilla rocking. But you don’t. No, you take it all and then some because it feels good and sometimes you’re convinced it’s what you were made to do.

You take your time recouping. Bucky rubs through your hair lovingly and affectionately, soft hums to add noise to the space. You smile, delighted, as if you’re the one who’s won and come. Calloused fingers trace the shape of your smile and you nearly preen. Slotting open your droopy eyes, you find Bufcky still there. Still sweet.

“You did so good, honey. M’so proud of you.” He praises, knowing now that he has your attention. Your grin splits and give him a toothy smile. “My sweet sunshine,” Bucky’s voice is soft and inviting, a lopsided grin on his chiseled features. You feel like the only thing in the world for a moment.

Although you want to talk, words don’t come easily and instead, you drag Bucky down into a languid kiss. Bucky groans at the taste of himself on you, but other than that, he’s chaste and gentle. Knowing when to play rough and when not to. It’s heaven when his lips move against yours so tenderly. Your heart still flutters like a teenager in love.

The both of you remain that way for a few minutes. Slow kissing even if you imagine Bucky’s back burns from the lean and your neck is starting to ache from how you crane it. Still, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than with Bucky.

“How about we head on to our room, sunshine, and I’ll take care of the rest?” Bucky purrs against your throat when he trails kisses down. The brush of his beard tickles and the feeling of his warm breath on your skin makes you happy to be alive.

“Actually,” you say after a beat, swallowing hard and clearing your throat. You pull yourself together as much as you can before leaning back and away from Bucky.

He eyes you with a mild look of concern as you prop back against the coffee table, reaching for the untouched can that Bucky had brought in with his game proposal. You pop the red cap off and it scatters to the floor below, lost. Then, pulling yourself up to sit on the edge of the coffee table, you shake the can. You lift your hips, shimmying out of the underwear you’d been left in - both of you are half naked at this point and you’ve seen one another countless times, you have nothing to hide.

The pair pools around your ankles and you use your foot to toss them, discarded like everything else that’s met the floor this evening - save for you. Bare legs spread, an open invitation and show. Bucky’s eyes light up, and you adore how he seems to treat everytime like the first time again, too.

“I was thinking about a round two,” you purr with newfound confidence and second wind; Spraying a strip of whipped cream down from your navel and disappearing between your legs. “What do you say, Barnes?”

“Oh, you’re on.”

361 notes · View notes

anlian-aishang · 10 months

Text

Everyone deserves to be mailed lingerie then stripped free from it, and by everyone, Erwin means his wife specifically.

// tags: erwin smith x reader, smut, allusions to masturbation, reader is briefly lifted, modern AU, fem!reader // word count: 1300

Without him here, there was no need to bite back your smile. A pure, shameless grin - a laugh even - as you took in what was before your eyes: pristine white box, black ribbons bowed over the corners, and silver cursive you were too hasty to read.

Chills seized your fingers as they worked on untying and unwrapping. Lid fell to the floor, beneath: transparent wrapping paper, folded perfectly. Tiny card rested square atop it:

For you. Hope to see it soon. From Sydney, E.S.

You rolled your eyes even as your face started to burn. Fumbling now, you dug through the box, tissue paper crinkling. You wondered if there was a more delicate texture in the world. There was, and it was the gift within. Panties so soft, next to nothingness. So thin, he would tear right through them. At the thought, a wave of heat, a heat that somehow made you shiver.

Instinctively, you shouldered off your robe. Straight there in your foyer, a naughty silhouette projected onto your curtains, stepping out of silk dress and into white lace.

From all those miles away, Erwin had picked a perfect fit. That vision, you supposed, had landed him this executive position - the one that bought you this house, the one that pulled him away from it - business trip after business trip.

You bunched the stretch of fabric in your hands and startled, already damp. “Damn it,” you cursed to yourself, ten days too many.

Matters into your own hands. It was what he would want.

// // //

Clean sheets. Mirror on the ceiling. A few favorites lined up. Nothing on but your new gift. Everything was right.

But about that. Narrowing your gaze, the mirror’s reflection above you gave a disapproving shake of her head. You had undressed yourself with self-loving intentions plenty of times, but something about this outfit, it demanded a partner. One did not light their own birthday candles, did not massage their own back. This underwear carried similar sentiment.

Blue lilies he would deflower, dainty lace his large hands would trace. Yes, it was perfect on you. But it would be even more perfect to have him take it off of you.

Your filming session had stopped before it started, but you supposed some stills would do. 3 PM. His work phone.

Yeah, that’ll do. The couple shared a near simultaneous thought as you sent the photos and he received them.

Got your present. Have a sneak peek. I’ll express my thanks when you get home.

Index and thumb pressed to his temples. Home never felt so far away.

More to that gift, but won’t get there until flight 613’s arrival.

Over halfway through this trip, back sooner than you think.

Had you the presence of mind, you would have noticed that 613 did not match the ticket stub on the fridge. Erwin figured that the package had made for a good-enough distraction. Indeed, though you daydreamed of his return for hours, you jumped at the sound of his key sheathed into the lock.

“What the-!?”

A satisfied smirk on the man otherwise proper. Immaculate smile, except for the lip bite. Proud posture, heart racing beneath. Pants ironed, ignoring the bulge at his middle - an impossible task. To everyone else, Erwin was objective perfection. You were the only one close enough to see his flaws, to find the beauty in them, to love him even more because of them.

“Happy to see you, too,” he teased.

“Yeah?” Sauntering closer, pupils dilated, a predator longing to be prey. Lotioned hand explored his slacks until landing a habitual hold of a familiar length, “I can tell.”

His briefcase hit the floor with a thud, but you did not startle, not even when calloused hands cupped the backs of your thighs and hoisted you to the countertop. Cold granite met your lower half - its ice shooting through your veins. A brief whimper as your nipples rapidly hardened, Erwin was quick to take them - warm them - in his mouth.

Shaky sighs as you labored to reach your arms over his shoulders, to knot your fingers at his undercut. The sudden onset of stimulation brought a singsong to your voice, one that turned his belts and briefs unbearably tight. “So eager,” you cooed. “Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to come home.”

You knew: he was too smart to be this naive, to mail you lingerie without expecting you to put it on, take a picture, and text it to his work phone immediately.

“That,” Erwin offered, “or you just wanted an excuse to bring me home.”

He knew: you were too devious to play so innocent, to send him that photo without expecting him to cancel his meetings, book a flight, and get home just as immediately - faster than you could say, back so soon?

“But…” you rolled your head back, relishing. As you propped yourself further up the counter, you feigned consideration, “you worked so hard for-”

“-for times like these.” Erwin growled. Sturdy hands strove for delicacy, running fingers in your hair as he insisted, “If I can’t please my wife, I might as well quit.”

Your only response was a stammer. The husk in his voice made intoxicating contrast with the slick of his responses. Uttering filth like it was nothing, your eyes rolled back, is this a dream?

No, not even your unconscious could come up with this, how his knuckles hooked exactly where your hips became curves, sliding down symmetrically and simultaneously with sadistic slow. The singe of his exhales on your torso, drawing shudders he subdued as he held you in his arms. The marks he decorated your neck with, saliva and swears stuck to your skin. Erwin had given you many memorable experiences, but this was some other, “E’Erwin…”

“You have no idea,” he hissed, “how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Your eyes widened, lips parted at the idea - the realization - of how he had spent his lone hotel nights: dreaming of this very scene, his return, and how you would look in these panties.

“Even better than I imagined,” sighs landed upon your ear. Two fingers to your middle, finding your folds despite the fabric. With each back and forth, your arousal continued to spill, soaking his touch. “So adorable…” between licks of his digits clean, his groan flirted with a whine, “irresistible.”

Ventures away always seemed to fog his memory. His tongue rejoiced when reunited with yours, though the taste was far from foreign. The milk to his coffee, the sugar to his tea, the sweetener to the hardships of life. He forgot all else in the presence of you.

Words threaded with kisses, “How do you do it, hm?” Lovemark on your jawline, “Tell me your secrets.”

Nails dug into his nape, “You know them already.”

Yes, he knew, but he still had to find out - find out what was inside those flowery panties, explore how exactly the garment matched with your crevices, discover the scent of French lace and you. Selfish was his stare as he tugged down and down, licking his lips as he watched the clear string fall from your cunt, along your thighs, all the way to your ankles where he let them hang.

My god, Erwin swore, she waited for me. So wet, so sensitive, he could tell, that had to be the case. Insatiable, in this context or others, was his desire to have his theories confirmed.

“If I were a betting man, and I am-” Erwin asserted, “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting for this all week.”

You thrust your hands in his hair, nails curled, beckoning him forward, “I shouldn’t have to tell you,” you chastised with a selfish pull of his locks, “get down here and taste for yourself.”

// masterlist //

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #smut #oneshot #salt and pepper #2023 #anlian writes #alias's #my writing

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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A Valentine’s Day to Remember Steve’s POV Part 3

Here we go! The date at long last. Don’t forget if you want to be tagged in Eddie’s POV let me know. It will start being put up tonight and again be posted over three days.

Also Eddie’s POV is spicy. But I will do a read more from where the story stops where it does here to the spicy part so if you don’t want to read it, you won’t have to.

Part 1 Part 2

He had just finished straightening the jacket when Eddie came home.

Eddie stopped in the foyer with his jaw slack. “Holy shit, dude.”

Steve blushed. “I better look good, you picked it out for me.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “And what job I did, too. Looking really good.”

Steve smiled back. “Thanks!”

Eddie pulled out a bouquet of alstroemarias wrapped in baby blue tissue paper, from behind his back. A dozen flowers. Half red, half pink.

“Oh, Eddie!” Steve cooed. “They’re beautiful.”

Eddie spotted the card before he handed it over and snagged it, putting it in his back pocket. “That’s for the end of the night.”

Steve took the flowers and buried his face into them to smell their sweet fragrance. “I don’t have anything to put them in while we’re on our date,” he murmured.

Eddie pointed behind Steve where there was already a nice vase half filled with water, waiting for the flowers.

Steve walked over to the vase, carefully removing the tissue paper. He placed the flowers into the vase gently arranging them.

“There we go,” he said proudly before stepping back to admire his work. When he turned back to Eddie, the other man was smiling adoringly at him. He blushed.

“Where to?”

“Grab your coat,” Eddie said. “We’re taking a ride.”

Steve did as he was told and followed him out to the van. “I can’t wait to see what you have planned.”

Eddie just grinned as he start the van. They drove for a while, finally ending up at the Quarry.

“You stay here,” Eddie instructed. “I’ll tell you when you can come out.”

Steve smiled back. “Whatever you say, Eds.”

Eddie tilted his head softly. “It’s going to be really good, pretty boy. Just you wait.”

Steve could hear clanging and thumping behind him in the van and on top of it, but it only made Steve more curious.

Finally Eddie was on the roof pounding on the windshield. “Come on!”

Steve got out of the van and looked up to see Eddie grinning down at him.

“How do I get up there?” he asked, eyes wide with wonder.

“Come ‘round the back,” Eddie said.

Steve walked around to the back of the van and there was a ladder waiting for him. He laughed and began climbing. But once his head crested the top of the vehicle, Steve gasped.

There was a picnic blanket laid out with fluttering tea light candles. There was a picnic basket and a six pack of beers.

“You coming, big boy?” Eddie asked with a huff of laughter.

Steve scrambled the rest of the way up and scooted over to Eddie.

“This looks amazing, Eddie,” he breathed.

“Just wait,” Eddie replied. He opened up the basket. He pulled out a couple of Tupperware containers.

Steve could see the condensation from the heat of the dish hitting the cold air around them.

Eddie pulled out two forks and opened the first container. It was homemade manicotti absolutely smothered in cheese and red sauce.

Steve looked up at him in shock. “These are my favorite.”

Eddie grinned. “So Nancy said.”

Steve huffed out a giggle and took the offered fork. They sat close together as they ate, partly out of necessity (Eddie holding the dish and the cold night air), but mostly out the sheer joy of it.

Eddie let Steve have the last bite and then pulled out another container.

“Chocolate and raspberry cheesecake?” Steve asked in shock. “Holy shit, dude. This is amazing!”

Eddie dug out clean forks and they got to work on their dessert. Once that was done and put away, Eddie pulled out a big fluffy fleece blanket and wrapped it around them. He then pulled out two beers and popped off their caps with one of the chunky rings on his left hand.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Steve said, grinning from ear to ear. “You show that trick to all your dates?”

Eddie shook his head. “I only do that for the ones I really want to impress.”

Steve drank from his beer and then laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “Thanks for this. I love the personalized touch approach, but it didn’t go well the one time I tried it.”

Eddie put his arm around him and murmured. “Yeah?”

Steve nodded. “It’s what she said she had wanted leading up to the date. Turns out it was one of those reverse psychology bullshit deals. I told her to dress warm and she wore a skimpy black dress. I did the whole three course meal in a picnic, complete with mulled wine for a warm treat.”

“Where did you get the wine for that?” Eddie asked.

Steve grimaced. “I may have ruined a very expensive wine from dad’s wine cellar to make it.”

Eddie winced. “Ouch, man. Even I know you want cheap boxed wine for that shit.”

“It tasted great,” Steve defended. Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway, she whined the whole time about expecting a fancy dinner at a nice upscale restaurant in Indy, complete with designer chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers.”

“How old were you?” Eddie asked.

“Fourteen,” Steve said.

Eddie twisted his head to get a better look at Steve’s face. “Fourteen?” Steve nodded. “And how the hell where you supposed to all this without a driver’s license?”

“I don’t even know,” Steve murmured. “She broke up with me two days later and told me that next time I take a girl out for Valentine’s no girl wants that DIY bullshit.”

Eddie glanced at his watch. “Just one more treat, before we move on to phase two of our date.”

Steve raised his head and looked at him. “It’s already been perfect, Eds.”

Eddie smiled at him and the butterflies that had been silent until now, took off in Steve’s stomach.

Eddie lifted the other side of the picnic basket and let Steve peer in.

Steve burst out laughing. He reached in and pulled out a handful of Circus peanuts.

“They might be a little hard because of how cold it is,” Eddie warned. “But I’m hoping that the food kept them warm.”

Steve popped one in his mouth and chewed happily. “Still soft.”

Eddie dug out his own handful and munched away, grinning around his mouthful.

“Come on,” he said once he had swallowed. “Help me clean this up and we can eat the rest on the way to the next location.”

Steve hurried to do as he was told, so between the two of them, it didn’t take long. Soon they were their way, merrily munching on the circus peanuts. They pulled up to the arcade.

“I figured this would be a safe place two guys to go to on Valentine’s day and not arouse any...unwanted attention?”

Steve grinned. “Sounds like fun.”

“We could do bowling or mini-gulf,” Eddie said as they went up to the counter.

“Mini-gulf,” was Steve’s quick reply.

Eddie smirked. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.”

So they played a round of eighteen holes and got into a duel with their clubs around hole six when Steve accidentally knocked Eddie’s ball into the hazard.

Steve was laughing and just having a good time. By the time they got back out to the van Steve’s cheeks hurt from all the smiling he had done all night long.

Eddie drove him back to his place so that they could get the duffel bag and flowers.

“Hey,” Eddie said, “it’s only 9:30. You wanna watch a movie?”

Steve who had the duffel bag in one hand and was about to grab the flowers with the other, shrugged. He dropped the bag on the floor next to the flowers and flopped down on the couch.

“Sure!”

Eddie grinned and then stopped. He rubbed his cheeks. “Oh. I don’t think I’ve smiled this much my whole life.”

Steve laughed. “Me either. I wonder what that says about us.”

“That we’re perfect for each other,” Eddie whispered.

Steve’s breath caught in his chest. He was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear that, but it set off the butterflies in his stomach anyway.

Eddie put in an old horror movie that made them laugh more than it scared them. The effects were just so bad.

Finally the movie ended and it was time to take Steve home. He held on to the vase tightly all the way home.

Eddie walked him up to his door and stood there the stoop. “You have a good time tonight?”

Steve nodded, hoping the dark hid his growing blush. “It wasn’t just the best Valentine’s day I’ve ever had. It was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Eddie shoved his hair in front of his face and ducked his head shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They stood there a moment longer before Steve said, “You going to give me the card for these amazing flowers, or what?”

Eddie jumped a little. “Thanks for the reminder, I almost forgot.” He pulled it out his back pocket. It was a little bent from having been there all night, but you could still make out the words.

He handed it over to Steve, refusing to look him in the eye. Steve took the card, frowning at Eddie’s sudden reluctance.

“Pink= from friendship to love.

Red= Passion, I love you

Eds <3”

Steve read it two, three, four times, his heart racing. He put the card in its little plastic holder it came in and set the vase down gently. He took Eddie’s face in his hands and oh so carefully lifted his head, to they could see eye to eye.

“I love you too, sunshine,” he whispered, mere inches from his face.

Eddie gulped but closed the distance, pressing his lips to Steve’s.

Steve sighed into the kiss and then deepened it, pushing back Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s hands immediately went around Steve’s waist, drawing him closer.

When they finally stopped for breath, Steve panted, “Stay. I don’t care if all we do is sleep. Just...don’t leave. Not yet.”

Eddie melted like putty. “I don’t want this night to end either, sweetheart. Take me in. I want to stay.”

Steve’s smile lit up his face in a way that took Eddie’s breath away. He unlocked the door and put the flowers on the kitchen counter and the duffel bag in the laundry room.

There standing at the bottom of the stairs that would lead up to Steve’s room was Eddie, waiting for him with a giddy smile on his face. Steve stomped right up to him and gave him a searing kiss.

Eddie pushed Steve away with a giggle and then turned around to dash up the stairs. Steve laughed and gave chase, managing to catch him before he got the door open. He whirled Eddie around and kissed him, hard and hot.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s ass and pulled their hips together. “You keep that up, pretty boy and I’ll make a mess out of you.”

Steve’s breath caught in his chest. “You promise?”

Eddie gave him a quick peck on the lips before he opened the door to Steve’s room, slowing back in. He crooked his finger, beckoning for Steve to follow.

Steve grinned and slammed the door behind him.

Oh yeah. This was definitely the best Valentine’s day ever.

Tag List: @zerokrox-blog @bidisastersworld @carlyv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @bejeweledbaby @maya-custodios-dionach @makewavesandwar @estrellami-1 @princess-josephina @abstractnaturaldisaster @a-little-unsteddie @madamonsieur-silvrene @artiststarme @samcoxramblings @spreckle @plutoshelm @krazyperson @gregre369

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #valentine's fic #ladykailtiha writes

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senditcolton · 3 months

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Just Let Me Adore You

Taking pictures of them when they don’t realize it because they just look too good not to do so.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon 🫶 | word count: 0.8k | warnings: none!

Life moved fast and it was easy to forget about all the little things that brought you joy. That was the reason why you started taking photos.

They didn’t have to be professional and high-quality, they just had to be. A snapshot of your favorite dinner, a video of a candle burning, multiple landscapes, photos of your friends and family.

An entire album filled with candid pictures of your boyfriend, Matthew.

That last bit was entirely unintentional. You hadn’t planned on Matthew being a mainstay in your photo album of joy. It was only when you were scrolling through your phone while lounging in bed that you realized how many pictures there were of your boyfriend.

But it made sense; being with him brought you so much happiness. He made you laugh and smile, gave you excitement and adventure, and made you feel so very loved.

And you felt the same way towards him. The photos were evident of that. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that you captured them. You took pictures of him because you loved seeing him happy, loved to have a reminder of all those moments in his life – the big and the small. But since they only existed in your phone, you were the only one that got to revel in those memories and the feeling they brought.

Until now.

It took an insane amount of printer paper, a number of glue sticks, a pack of markers, dozens of stickers, and a trip to your local bookstore but it was finished. Your excitement was almost uncontainable as you hold out the wrapped anniversary present towards Matthew.

“Happy two years,” you say, your fingers brushing against his as he takes the parcel from your hands. The sound of the wrapping paper being torn away from the box just makes your anticipation reach another level. Matthew lifts the lid, revealing the leather cover of the scrapbook that you bought weeks ago and his eyes dart to yours, that curious sparkle in his blue irises.

“Now, what’s this?”

“Why don’t you open it, then maybe you’ll figure it out,” you tease him, wanting to see his genuine uninfluenced reaction. He takes your advice, lifting the book from the tissue paper and flipping open the cover. You watch as his eyes scan the pages, dancing over each photo and the other decorations that you placed within.

“Wait a second. This is – ”

“Last years All-Star game,” you finish for him. “There’s more.”

The smile on Matthew’s face grows as he continues to flip through the pages filled with pictures of him from two years you were together: him during the Stanley Cup playoffs, him in the kitchen of your old apartment, him at Brady’s summer wedding, him placing your books on his bookshelf when you moved in, him on the beach during this years All-Star break, him curled up on the couch asleep, him during random parties and at random bars and on random dates. All of those moments carefully curated and lovingly placed in the scrapbook. Matthew flips through all of them, murmuring comments about what he remembers or how he felt. Eventually, he reaches the end of the decorated pages, blank white paper extending until it stops at the back cover.

“Is there any more?” Matthew asks, looking up at you and you can’t stop the laugh that comes at his excitement.

“Not yet, but I’m sure there will be,” you say, the smile on your lips infecting your tone. “Which leads me to your next gift.” You extend a small box to him and Matthew eagerly opens it to reveal a disposable camera.

“I figured that you could help me add to it,” you softly explain. Matthew smiles at you, wasting no time putting down the camera before cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

“I love it, thank you. This is… really one of the most thoughtful things someone has done for me,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief at the time and effort you put into your gift. “My present might seem a little lame in comparison.”

“Nonsense,” you hush him, picking up the gift with your name on it. You open the packaging of the small black box, lifting the lid, revealing a stunning piece of jewelry – one bought directly from the shop of one of your favorite artists.

“Matthew, it’s beautiful,” you sigh out, your hands coming to brush against the metal. “This is exactly the one I wanted. How did you know?”

“You’re not the only one that pays attention to the little things, I suppose,” Matthew says, a gentle laugh falling from his lips.

“It’s gorgeous, thank you,” you repeat, turning to look at him, the smile still on your face. The instant you turn around, you hear the click of a camera shutter and watch as Matthew lowers the camera from his eye.

“Another memory for the scrapbook,” he says and you can’t stop the trill of your heart at the thought of filling pages and pages with memories shared with him. Your boyfriend, your muse, your love.

#nicole writes #matthew tkachuk blurb #matthew tkachuk fluff #florida panthers blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24

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sgiandubh · 5 months

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Sunday sounds: Third Advent Gaudete Sunday - Joy

This severely traffic jammed Sunday may be plagued with hustle, bustle and the final scramble to Christmas, but it is time to light the pink Shepherds' Candle.

These Most Humble of Them All were also the first to be told something that forever changed our hearts and minds, and immediately sent them on the road to Bethlehem:

'And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' (Luke, 2:10-12).

Despite and sometimes even against anything else, this Sunday is about an overwhelming, definitive feeling of Joy:

youtube

We do not need complicated words to describe what we think or feel on this particular day. This is why, and rather uncharacteristically, I have chosen John Rutter's deceptively simple and modern tune. It closely resonates with John Betjeman's Christmas poem - and I could never resist Betjeman:

The bells of waiting Advent ring, The Tortoise stove is lit again And lamp-oil light across the night Has caught the streaks of winter rain In many a stained-glass window sheen From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge And round the Manor House the yew Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge, The altar, font and arch and pew, So that the villagers can say 'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze, Corporation tramcars clang, On lighted tenements I gaze, Where paper decorations hang, And bunting in the red Town Hall Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve Are strung with silver bells and flowers As hurrying clerks the City leave To pigeon-haunted classic towers, And marbled clouds go scudding by The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad, And oafish louts remember Mum, And sleepless children's hearts are glad. And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!' Even to shining ones who dwell Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true? And is it true, This most tremendous tale of all, Seen in a stained-glass window's hue, A Baby in an ox's stall ? The Maker of the stars and sea Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is, No loving fingers tying strings Around those tissued fripperies, The sweet and silly Christmas things, Bath salts and inexpensive scent And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells, No carolling in frosty air, Nor all the steeple-shaking bells Can with this single Truth compare - That God was man in Palestine And lives today in Bread and Wine.

#sunday sounds #advent 2023 #traditional #English #youtube

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rockingrobin69 · 7 months

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17:25

Sometimes they go to the little pub down the road and order nothing but blackcurrant lemonade. Sit crammed around a table and pretend to follow the screen. It’s nice to groan with a dozen or so people, to jump when the little men in different colours score on their little field—it’s mostly nice because Harry leans back and grins when Draco shouts, referee!

‘I like seeing you like this,’ he explains, much later, nuzzling into Draco’s neck on the sofa, sticky with tiredness and achingly sweet. ‘I like that you’re a part of my world.’ And Draco hums something nonsensical, coaxes him up and to bed, come on, love, let’s call it a night. To wrap under covers, to sing softly in his ear: glory, glory, and hear Harry laugh, bat at Draco with a far-too-fond hand.

Sometimes they go to the little Korean shop near the train station. It’s the only place that sells the ramen Harry likes, and Draco would travel much further than a couple of stops for that: they also have the best snacks, and Harry’s first and foremost a snacker. Sweet, savoury, doesn’t matter at all, if it comes in a small bag and is preferably crunchy. Draco suspects the roots go Deeper, but he doesn’t push: buys whatever Harry wants in the reusable plastic bag with the dragon pattern. Watches him flush and try to hide behind his hands, the way his smile melts wider and he sighs, ‘All right. Take me home, you unbearable creature.’

‘I just like—’ he can’t explain this one, but he tries, those star-bright eyes and the rasp of affection in his voice. ‘I like it, okay,’ as they boil the water. The noodles are very spicy and Draco needs the tissue paper nearby, but they’re sort of his favourite, too. They sit very close and talk about nothing, about their days: Harry tells him how many dogs he’d seen (in detail, words tumbling over themselves in delight, tiny-little-thing-with-a-ribbon, black-lab-with-a-huge-stick). They sit and make silly jokes with no punch-line, and invent new careers to take (Draco’s going to be a slug tamer, and Harry’s will make candles). They sit. Draco just likes it too.

Sometimes they go for a walk around the neighbourhood. They let the traffic lights decide on each turn and point at things they see on the street: flowers, boots, the reflection of the night sky in a puddle. They walk and walk and sometimes Harry sighs, takes his hand, and they go quiet for a little while, both flushed and both grinning. It’s silly, and it might always be, how devastatingly darling Harry is. The dimple in his cheek when he gestures with his head, the twinkle in his eyes.

‘I like those curtains,’ to a window on the third floor. Draco memorises them on sight. He’d look through a catalogue or, Greg is fairly good with sewing. He’s thinking about fabric shops and yarn until Harry laughs, takes his chin. ‘Oi. I can see the wheels whirring.’ And Draco swallows a meaningless denial and squeezes his hand instead. They walk back a meandering path through all the parks, and Harry says, ‘You know,’ but doesn’t continue. Draco does, he thinks. Know.

Sometimes they take the train to nowhere in particular. Sit across from each other and dream up songs with no rhythm. Sometimes they go to the theatre and catch a film neither of them gets. Sometimes they sit at the window, together, and stare, and stare: sometimes they stop behind the bins outside their building for a kiss.

‘I like,’ Harry says about everything, and Draco says I know. Sometimes it’s a Monday, 17:25, and they're looking at each other.

(Flufftober day 16. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #615 words #flufftober2023 #prompt: Singing one another to sleep #rockingrobin69

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finnickfan8 · 5 months

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Evermore

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Genre: Fluff/ angst

Warnings: infertility, death and angst

You and your husband, Peeta, had been trying to conceive a baby for years now. Your closest friends Katniss and Annie had all announced pregnancy within the last 3 weeks. Annie had two kids already and Katniss was on her second, it was your turn.

You had been waiting to get your cycle for about 2 weeks now, and nothing. The anxiety with taking a test was immense. If it was positive then you would be happy, but if it wasn’t that would just add to the pile of hurt that your own infertility has caused.

Shuffling to the bathroom, you slowly opened a new box of tests. You positioned your self to take the first one and you did. Capping the test, you chugged some water and waited before taking the second one. After about 30 minutes of pacing back and forth, meticulously shaking your hands in even 8’s (your lucky number), you checked.

Two positive tests. Your hand flew over your mouth in shock. You had done it. You then planned out how to tell Peeta. You decided on going to the market downtown and picking up a few New York strips which you carefully seared to perfection. Candles, roses, romantic gestures galore, today was your big day. The mood for celebration was set and now you waited.

Peeta had had a rough day in The Capitol, dealing with press conferences and the president, Peeta was just grateful for his darling wife. You were Peeta’s entire world and he made sure you knew it. Peeta would do anything for you and would give you everything you wanted, except apparently a baby. That was your one wish and he felt utterly destroyed knowing that he couldn’t give it to you.

Peeta strolled in to his house, looking to be greeted by his lovely wife before sitting down to a simple meal that she prepared. Usually he’d then help her with the chores before they’d cuddle to sleep. Tonight was different.

Peeta walked in and saw his house exquisitely decorated, rose petals paving his every step. “Baby?” he gently called to her, following your trail to the finely lit dining table. The yellow hue of the candles dimly lit the room, but added a sense of warmth and home. You were sitting at the dining table, waiting for the blonde boy to come join you.

“What’s all this for?” Peeta inched closer, taking his usual seat. “Steak? Wine? Did I miss an anniversary?” Concern laced his tone, scared of letting you down.

“No, Baby, I just have a surprise.” You said as you pulled out a box wrapped in shiny orange paper. His large hands took the present from you, staring at his reflection through the shine of the paper. Carefully, his calloused hands work at untying the black satin ribbon, setting it on the table. His fingers work delicately to take the top of the box off. Peeta looks down at the tissue paper, slowly unwrapping it and looking down at the white object.

Tears well in his eyes, “You’re pregnant?” You nod and he practically jumps over the table to hug you, squeezing tightly with joy. “I’m going to be a dad!” Peeta squatted down to reach eye level with your stomach at your seated position. “I can’t wait to meet you, Peeta Jr..”

You cocked a brow at him, “Peeta Jr.?” Your husband nodded frantically. “And what if it’s a girl?” He thought for a moment.

“Peeta Jr. but a girl” he stated confidently. You just shook your head at your silly husband. You motioned for him to go ahead and eat and he obliged. Throughout all of dinner, he discussed what school he wanted your child to go to and how he didn’t want dating until 16, amongst other topics.

Throughout the next few months, you Katniss and Annie all had lunches at least once a week to discuss pregnancy things and the topic of a gender reveal came up.

“Why don’t we just throw one party since we all have the same friends?” Annie offered. You figured you would all have one game corresponding to your theme and a small cake to go with it. At the end of the party you all decided to do your gender reveals in the order of conception.

The day of, Annie and Katniss shared every moment with you, from their themes of “Mermaid or Merman” and “Doe or Deer” to their gender reveal ideas. Annie went first with her reveal, having Finnick stab at boxes with his trident until one went up in pink smoke. The excitement continued with Katniss, her and Gale took turns shooting at balloons with a bow until they found the one with blue confetti.

It was yours and Peeta’s turn. Timidly, you both grabbed the jumbo party popper. One hand each pushed the bottom up until a big ‘pop’ was heard and pink glittering was everywhere.

“We’re having a girl.” Peeta breathed, brushing your hair out of your face. He tenderly placed a firm hand on your stomach before placing his lips to yours.

Pregnancy continued as normal after that. Peeta had decorated the nursery in lots of pastel pinks, blues, and purples. He was probably more excited than you were which made this even harder news to break. You came home to him that day with your head hung low.

“What’s wrong Pretty?” Your husband called. You fell to your knees, not knowing how to tell him. Sobs filled the room as he joined you on the floor. Cupping your face he said, “Tell me what’s wrong Lovely. All this stress isn’t good for the baby.” Peeta rubbed your stomach gently, you grabbed his wrist.

“Peeta,” you whispered, “I lost the baby.”

#peeta mellark #peeta my beloved #the hunger games peeta #i love peeta #peeta x reader #thg peeta #team peeta #peeta supremacy

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venusorbits · 1 year

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DOUBLE TAKE | CHAPTER TWO

pairing ; cho gue sung ( 조규성 ) x female! supermodel! british-asian! reader

summary ; You have been invited once again to the Korean TV programme 'I Live Alone' alongside the World Cup Heartthrob, Cho Gue Sung ( 조규성 ). Simple guests, who had to take double takes from each other, who could have seen it coming? No one was. Certainly, neither were the both of you.

genre ; romance, fluff, established relationship ( by second chapter cause i hate writing slow burn, i like reading them though ), angst.

masterlist

❝When you put your arms around me, you let me know there’s nothing in this world I can’t do❞

How did it all begin? Well, you know it all too well, like the back of your hand. You could write a whole novel about it and you could confidently recite word for word if someone dared ask you to, that's how well you know your story. From the dialogue. The finer details even.

Clammy hands. Anxious heart. Teeth gnashing on your lips. You waited patiently outside the restaurant where you agreed to meet, you stood despite the harsh winds and cold nipping your face. He was nowhere to be seen yet. Of course, he wouldn't be. You showed up almost half an hour before the set time, you were that nervous.

You want to leave a remarkable impression, but you're afraid that you'll be too lax and end up being extremely late, he'll be the one who’ll end up waiting for what will feel like endless hours in this weather.

Gue Sung calls out your name as he spots you in the midst of sprinkling soft snow. In his hand was a floral bouquet, unique impressive unique and special soft petaled blooms of tulips displayed, from baby pinks to almost an off-white colour tied together in a flushed salmon silk ribbon, multi-layered in rich waves of elegant thin veiled tissue paper to pattern flower wrapping paper.

You stood stiffly, stunned. So was he. Well, perhaps it wasn’t only you who apparently felt extremely on edge.

“Hey. You’re early.” You state. Voice shaky. Tugging on the sleeves of your beige trench coat.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Gue Sung hands you the flowers which you gratefully take from him. He nudges his arm out for you silently for you to take, flustered, lacing and locking arms with him, “Let’s go?”

The date went well; it was a romantic candlelit dinner, candles burned brightly in the middle of the table, and a live band softly played jazz music aiding with the rather intimate setting. Couples were on a date and some perhaps celebrated their many years together.

That night nothing but joyous and cheeks strained from grinning the whole night. You eased up a lot more as jokes were thrown, the conversation flowed smoothly, and there was never a moment where you found yourself in an awkward silence where it resorted to awkward staring with some uncomfortable tight-lipped smile. Nursing the glass of red wine instead of trying to engage in some poor attempt at a meaningful conversation.

No, it felt like the hours you spent were mere minutes. Cut too short.

Gue Sung was charming. Funny. Everything about his personality glimmered. It poured out like liquid gold. The way, he intensely bore into your eyes, like he was exploring and lost in the faraway galaxy. God, nothing else was sexier in a man than looking at you like you were the only person that existed.

No questions asked, a second date came around.

Christmas Market. It seems like a good idea and quite romantic, if you might say, you get the chance to walk around and chat. Enjoy each other’s company while staying cosy with a cup of hot chocolate in hand. Still, you aren’t entirely sure as to why celebrating Christmas with a lover is romantic… Perhaps to some, this was the countdown to a new beginning. Something of looking forward to the unforeseen future together? You don’t know. Maybe it’s something you’ll be looking at too

“I don’t think I can finish it all.” You mumbled, eyeing the stall, the sweet aroma of the chocolate wafting. The holiday season didn't cut short; decked out fresh pine trees with luminous colourful lights, mosaic-like Christmas baubles, the mixtures of greens and reds, and peppermint candies. It was Christmas paradise.

“You can take a sip out of mine.” Gue Sung offers as he absentmindedly brushes your strayed hair and tucks it behind your hair, adjusting the neatly folded scarf around your neck ensuring you're all toasty warm.

“You sure?” He nods.

The sweet hot chocolatey beverage kept your hands pleasantly warm from the harsh chilly wintry blow of the wind. The tip of your nose was slightly numb from it. Slowly you take slow sips, the warmth engulfing your throat. Gue Sung was staring at you dreamily like you were stars that dusted the empty midnight skies, you were glimmering, the little scrunch of your nose and eyebrows, a satisfied hum that escaped your lips. It was indescribably adorable.

It felt comfortable, you shared laughter and joys together.

Gue Sung’s reassurance and confidence had you convinced at least he had some knowledge or could hold himself upright on the slippery ice. But here it is, the World Cup Heartthrob clinging onto the side railing of the ice rink. Legs shaking.

You stood aside watching him, bemused by the current phenomenon happening before your eyes. Onlookers watch on and he shoots them all an awkward tight-lipped smile.

“You, okay?”

Gue Sung gave you a stiff nod waving his hand, he notices the abundance of people piling up behind him, who also happen to have the same idea as the man, albeit… They were far better than him. They simply were using the guard rail as some sort of support. You held your hand out, he reaches out for it desperately as he struggled to keep himself upright, almost even falling backwards, as he slowly skidded towards you.

You were nothing but entertained, he was like a newborn fawn just born to the world learning how to walk for the first time with the way he was stumbling.

“This is funny.” You lightly chuckled.

“No, it’s not.” He huffs, feigning annoyance, although keeping the little playful grin on his lips, keeping it light-hearted.

“It is, you have to admit.” You poke his arm.

“Fine. It is a little funny.” Gue Sung raises his white flag of surrender followed by a little shrug of his shoulder.

You back away slightly though still keeping a tight grip on his hand. Oh, how much you’ll reach for it.

How much you’ll pay for time to stop. It seems like that every time spent time together goes by, hours turn to seconds, and time always flies by. It all came in flashes like reels of movies, but you could still put pieces together, printed polaroid photos that decorated the walls of your mind. He was the best part and the highlights of your favourite film playing before you.

"Do you want to come in?" It was a simple question that may be. A simple question that has snowballed into a new beginning, leaving unforgettable trails of you and him. May it be the smallest things, but they remind you of you and him.

Heaven has decided your faith for you, and nothing can stop it now.

Gue Sung was someone you could lean on, during your highs and lows. From your insecurities, the ugly demons of doubt, the intense fears; so terrified you were. You felt that the best thing could just crumble into pieces, evaporate into nothing, and disappear before your eyes. Any possibilities that could just put this relationship to an end. He could just get up and walk away from you.

And worse of all, you’ll have nothing to blame but yourself, when shit hits the fan, you fanned the flames and blew up things out of proportion. You’re the one who burning this whole thing down. You hate it.

“I’m sorry, I’m hurting you. Please don’t go.” You clung onto what felt like the flimsiest string, the only thing that connected you to him, “I’m sorry. I’m letting my head get to me.”

It’s like you were scrambling to clumsily patch everything together, like floodgates that become completely unstoppable,

“It’s all my fault.” You were trying to keep yourself composed but, if you were being honest, you were on the verge of tears. If you cry, it’ll feel like you were guilting him into admission when you were the one to pin the blame to, “I’ll be better. Please stay with me.”

It’s written all over his face, you broke him.

He sighs. You were certain he was going to shrug on his coat, slip on his shoes and gather all his things. You’ll have to embrace the end of what’s between you.

“Come here.” He beckons you over into his arms pulling you right up against his chest and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You held onto him as he would just slip away from your fingertips. Tears soaking on his shoulder, “Why are you thinking that way?”

Gue Sung stands up straight, prying off his shoulder, cradling your face in the palm of his hands as the pads of his thumbs wipe away the strayed tears. He whispers almost painfully. Looking at him, you could see the cracks of wounds from your venomous words.

“You know, I’m all yours. You know, how much I love you. I’m still here and I’m here to say.”

Love wasn’t burning red as you had thought, it was glowing like the golden sunrise.

You start to appreciate the little things about love and relationships. Grand gestures seemed to get a little boring, it almost felt like a showcase; little gestures that included his morning coffee while his wild hair sticking in all kinds of directions while the essence of sleep was still in his eyes, driving you into your photoshoot set, spending your time a little longer in bed talking about mundane things, legs all tangled together, the simple rush of butterflies tickling your stomach and rushing when you see him. You’d get giddy when you see his gorgeous face amongst the crowd.

When you’re drunk on that love; you start to see differently, like you are always wearing these rose-tinted lenses and it felt like a dream. Like starry stars fell into his face that you like to place pecks. When he leans on your shoulder every so softly as he sighs away his exhaustion, there’s a silent agreement, where he seeks your solace and affection in the touch of your hand. Simply cupping his face had him melting under your touch. In a quiet room yet words are spoken.

The saxophone rendition of ‘La Vie En Rose’ plays on the radio; you sway along so gently, with you engulfed safely in his arms. As your window overlooks the shimmering city, up and down of it all, you’d still worship this love even if it’s a false God.

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