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mysticstrawberryphantom · 2 years

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Nightmarish Infatuation Part 5

A/N: Hello! Hope you lovelies are well! Who knew a full time job would take away so much of my time just like school did ): Fortunately, and unfortunately in some ways, I got COVID for the first time and had time to write. This is the second to last chapter. It’ll get a little intense, so I hope y’all like thrillers lol.

Warnings: Light gaslighting, manipulation, creepy yandere behavior (It is only for entertainment purposes, I do not condone this behavior).

Part 4: https://at.tumblr.com/mysticstrawberryphantom/nightmarish-infatuation-part-4/1plzrhjftfpu

Shock.

Disbelief.

Confusion.

Excitement.

A hint of offense.

Dream-like.

All those feelings hit you more than once during Dr Crane's stay at your home. More specifically, during your first kiss with him.

Or rather kisses.

That shocked you the most. For a week you didn't believe that he actually had kissed you since it had been done in such an impulsive manner. Not to mention that after kissing you he just stared at you until you said his name. To which all he responded with:

-"See you tomorrow."

His stare burned into your memory and would even surface a negative bodily response when it came to your thoughts. You wouldn't call the image of the look he gave you scary, but you also wouldn't call it comforting. Something inside you wanted to run away after seeing him look hungrily at you. It wasn't even a micro expression or feeling you picked up from physical contact. It was what you saw written all over his face clearly. His eyebrows raised, eyes half lidded, and mouth curled.

He wanted you.

The next day you couldn't even look him in the eye. After two hours of speaking to each other while you face every wall possible, Crane suggested you take a break and return to your nurse duties for the rest of the day.

It actually helped you a lot and you felt more at ease, that was until you were leaving the asylum and Crane was at the exit.

-"I just wanted to see you, and wish you a good night." His eyes burned into your skin.

You didn't need to touch him to feel his sincerity. -"Goodnight, Dr Crane."

And that charade continued for about thirteen days. Other doctors assumed you were taking a break after the Joker, you must've gotten scared, so rightfully so, you were resting.

It wasn't until Jonathan joined you for lunch and he spoke to you softly.

-"May I sit here, Miss L/N?"

-"S-Sure. It's free for anyone to take." You muttered before quickly taking a bite.

-"Miss L/N." He called out after a few minutes of silence.

-"Hmphrrph?" Your throat croaked due to your mouth being full of food.

-"You're making a mess." He responded while taking a napkin and wiping your mouth. You were eating a sandwich and some mustard had been taking a free ride in your bottom lip for the last minute.

He also nonchalantly wiped some crumbs near you off the table.

You, of course, flinched at him touching your bottom lip.

-"You could've just told me."

-"I know, and I usually don't even care." Jonathan began. -"I acted on impulse and instincts again, I apologize."

-"Again?"

-"Yes. Our kiss. I can tell that it has been bothering you greatly, I am sorry for causing this emotion based dilemma you are facing at the moment due to my advances." Adjusting his glasses, he finished. -"I will keep matters professional again, and will not seek you after work anymore. I even understand if you ask for a new mentor. I offended you, I should not have done that."

-"I, uh, wouldn't go that far. I'm not offended, and I definitely don't want to change mentors."

He leaned in, expectantly interested in what you were saying carefully.

-"Regardless - I wish you would've given me a warning or asked." You huffed while looking away so he couldn't see your embarrassed expression.

He, in turn, chuckled internally, how could've she not known he was going to kiss her after getting close in like that?

-"I just wasn't ready for that, is all. .. .. we both like each other, I simply wasn't expecting for us to do anything about it due to our work relation. I'm not sure if us changing our dynamic would be prudent."

Jonathan purred in almost a muted fashion. -"You'd prefer we forget that night and continue being work colleagues?" He purposely made his face look sad, disappointed.

-"I would, in normal circumstances, say that would be ideal. But I noticed that even though it's public knowledge, no one has changed the way they behave around us. Nor have any work interruptions, other than the ones by my hand, have occured."

Dr. Crane slid his hand so close to yours so you could feel his warmth near your skin. -"Are you-"

-"L-let's have a trial period. I'm just worried about my studies and how much it would affect them. Not to mention if we have a fight? What would happen then?"

-"Completely understandable, Ms L/N. I concur with your logical thinking." His lips slightly curled into a smile. -"I'm glad to have you be so thoughtful to counteract my impulses. I promise I will follow suit." He then longingly looked at your lips for a moment before leaning slightly forward.

Before you could protest, he spoke. -"May I kiss your cheek? Would you feel comfortable with that in this environment?"

After giving it a thought, you nodded. Dr. Crane then carefully and languidly pressed his lips on your cheek, a smile soon after being felt on the same cheek.

________________________________________________________________

It was raining.

Not really pouring.

Just raining.

Water was falling at a constant, relaxing rate. It was Sunday night and you were sitting at your kitchen island sipping on apple cider while reading a class assignment. "Reaching Down The Rabbit Hole." Unfortunately, this read was painful as it was interesting. Learning how diseases affected the patients depicted in the book caused thoughts of a sorrowful and aching past to dance in the back of your mind.

Sighing, you placed the book face down, open to the page you were on. Ever since you had started dating Jonathan, thoughts like those not only had become more frequent, but also held more power to sway your mood. Before you could easily dismiss them. But now as if you had a curse, they'd linger around you. Work, home, school. Places you frequented the most.

You got up, mildly frustrated, and walked to the window of your balcony to let your mind and eyes rest. Not that you could see much on a rainy night, but the city lights did look ethereal at times.

And then you saw something flutter in the corner of your eye. Quickly, your hand threw the balcony door open and you jumped outside.

-"Get out now!" You yelled as the other hand searched frantically and blindly for the broom you kept outside. -"Whoever you are!"

-"Ms. L/N, I don't mean to harm you. I just have questions." A very tall, dark figure with two spikes on top of his head and a cape that frapped alongside him as he showed himself.

-"Batman. " You inhaled almost silently. -"H -how long have you.."

-"Not long, just got here, and need to leave soon."

-"I won't offer you anything then." You responded professionally.

He nodded in agreement.

-"These flowers, how long have you had them?"

-"Not long.. .. why?"

-"Who gave them to you?"

-"My boyfriend, recently."

-"You've been experiencing nightmares, or intrusive thoughts, or perhaps old hurtful memories as of late. Correct?"

You nodded hesitantly.

-"Throw them away immediately. . .. Actually, can I take them?"

You hesitantly nodded.

While he picked them up, he said nothing.

-"Tell your boyfriend to change florists." He abruptly voiced loudly. -"Or break up with him."

Confused, you grimaced. Batman, upon seeing how perturbed you felt, before jumping off the roof he nodded kindly at you.

-"I'll be around if there's trouble again."

And somehow, that brought you peace.

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Monday morning after your nighttime visit with Gotham's famous vigilante seemed a little more lackluster than usual. In all honesty, these recent few weeks had been in comparison. Jonathan at first would wait for you to arrive outside of the asylum, always with a present in hand. Coffee, tea, warm hot cocoa, a pastry, flowers, a key chain, a set of pencils, etc. He'd then chastely kiss your cheek, or palm, or hand, or head. You were at work after all. He'd then always ask how you had slept and other menial things about the time you spent apart. For some reason he cared.

He wasn't just like that when he first saw you. He was like that all day. Some would say the Doctor was quite clingy. You, somehow, didn't mind. Though at times you did have to calm him down when you'd say goodbyes. He seemed to hate them, and soon, so did you. If you weren't a psychiatrist in training, you'd probably would've fallen into some type of anxiety with attachment issues. Thankfully you both were healthy professionals, of course. Everything you did together was healthy. Crane's attachment was healthy, though clingy.

Everyone is different.

He was pretty different.

And that would confuse you. You thought you knew he was thinking, but it seemed the closest you got was 50/50 even with your abilities.

These last few weeks were different and confusing.

Jonathan wasn't a clingy, excitable, puppy like boyfriend. Work suddenly had gotten intense. Research had very close deadlines now. You were second place, or less. Hated goodbyes that lasted thirty minutes now were practically non-existent. He couldn't bother to wait for you at the entrance anymore.

Yet, he'd show up with flowers, the flowers Batman took away, and smother you with affection at home. He'd then leave and at work acted like he hadn't missed you at all.

You were patient, however. Stress did that to people.

-"You're early, Y/N." Dr Crane commented cheerfully, well cheerful for him, when you walked into his office.

-"I didn't have to water the plants." You carefully said.

-"It did rain a good amount last night, hmm?"

-"More like Batman stole my flowers." You muttered.

He jumped up from his desk.

-"Batman?" His teeth chattered.

-"He told me to break up with you if you didn't find a new florist." You voiced monotonously.

Suddenly his lean arms wrapped forcefully around your shoulders and abdomen.

-”I am vastly glad you are safe.” He heaved slowly into your ear. -”D-did he do anything to you?” His voice shook in an uncharistic manner.

You placed your hands over his trembling appendages. His embrace felt needy, almost an angry jealousy. Protectiveness over someone he considered a fiend.

-”He didn’t do anything. He’s just Batman, and I’m not a criminal so-

-”I-I’ve been neglecting you recently. You were lucky last night that nothing happened. But if Batman is showing up at your residence, who else will? There’s no way I can leave you alone tonight, or the rest of these following nights at least.”

Jonathan turned you around, still embracing you. You now perceived he wanted to keep you safe, as if you were to precious to lose now. Like it would be huge waste?

-”You’ll stay at my residence tonight.” He ordered.

-”Excuse me?” You blurted out, blushing. -”I-I’m not ready to do that.” Your face looked away so quickly, you almost gave yourself whiplash.

-”No? Then I’ll come over to yours as always. I’ll leave early and pack.”

-”T-That’s not what I meant.” Your face now facing the ceiling, hoping the blood would leave your face. -”You don’t have to do that.”

-”I’m not taking any chances, Y/N.” He voiced sternly while his hands gripped your shoulders. -”Don’t worry, I’ll just stay with you until I know it’s safe.” His right handly delicately caressed your right cheek while he grinned, as if he was satisfied with the situation.

-”It’s too soon.” You mumbled, defeated.

Chuckling softly, Jonathan gripped your chin and placed a peck on your bottom lip.

-”There’s nothing to fear when you’re with me, I’m always respectful and I’ll always protect you and your feelings.” Another kiss was planted, one that clouded your judgement.

Nodding, you patted his chest and mentioned that you two should get to work.

Ironically, and most certainly tragically, his presence at home, though physically comforting, did not lessen any of the anxieties you had been feeling as of late. Instead, your resting heart rate could rival that of a machine gun. You couldn’t explain why, but those nightmares worsened. You’d wake up in cold sweat, and refuse to go back to sleep. After a couple of nights, you caved in and let Jonathan share your bed, respectfully of course. That helped a little. His embrace was like a remedy, though not one that brought full recovery, just enough that you still depended on it.

You wished it would just end.

Jonathan Crane on the other hand wanted to live with this bliss for eternity. You were finally reacting to his fear chemicals. Little by little the same heavy doses from before were having heftier consequences on your psyche. That on its own was a treat for him, however this treat soon became a feast when you began to depend on him. His months of preparation for this moment had paid off, even if it had been excruciating for him. A simple use of the push-pull technique had left you vulnerable, wondering if you were truly important to him as he would so easily profess in your presence.

It made you question reality.

You, of course, had put on this facade that you didn’t care, that you were understanding. It had all melted away once he spent time in the one place you knew to be your safety net. Now you needed him, even if you hadn’t realized it yet.

His experiment was almost complete, and soon you two would be bonded irreparably and inseparably, is such a way that any separation from him would deal a heavy blow to your psyche.

He, of course, had promised you he could never let harm come to you, so he’d always be there by your side. Dr. Jonathan Crane would be close beside you to take care of you forever.

How lucky you were to have him.

How lucky he was to have you.

He chuckled. He loved saying that in his mind. It’s because he loved you.

You were all consuming, almost as much as his research, and yet Crane was the only one being nourished from the relationship. It fed parts of him that he didn’t know were famished. Thankfully they were beginning to be satiated now.

Thankfully he had you.

And no one could take you away from him, not the Warden, not Batman, not-

-”Ladies and Maniacs, this is the Joker speaking!~” A voice shrilled through the speaker system of the asylum. -”Pardon the interruption, but I just wanted all of you to know that I’m in control of the madhouse now! It was getting boring, so I thought a little party would liven things up! It’s time us patients were able to roam these halls freely with all the lovely toys we want.”

The voice then chuckled darkly before continuing.

-”I’d hide while you have the chance.”

#Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow dc #scarecrow #yandere jonathan crane #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling

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demadogs · 2 years

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Honestly I would have no byler doubt at all if it wasn’t for the damn monologue. I know it’s been analyzed to death on why it wasn’t completely genuine and it does make sense but then I start to think why the duffers would even do the monologue in the first place if they were going to breakup marijuana next season. I keep thinking of when they hyped it up before vol 2 came out and said it’s Finn’s best performance. It’s driving me crazy because the way it was set up with using Will’s feelings for Mike to even be able to tell El he loves her means they really fucked up if it isn’t actually a setup for byler to happen next season. If they really just used Will’s love for Mike as something to get McNugget back together I’ll be so upset. :(

i understand your thought process and i did completely agree with you at one point but i think ive grown to actually appreciate the purpose of this monologue. i do however still think el should have broken up with him this season for sure.

to answer what the point of it was if theyre just gonna break up anyway, i think it was entirely for el’s arc. for her to realize that she’s finally heard those words she needed to hear but it didnt change anything. she still wasnt happy. we see that based on the fact that they share zero dialogue and barely acknowledge each other after that scene. youd expect her to hug and kiss him and say she loves him too but she didnt. i dont think she believed it because the only other time he said he loved her was also a tense life or death situation. he cant say it just casually.

also just the ratio of byler to mlvn evidence just points so aggressively towards byler that even on july 1st i wasnt even thinking “we got queerbaited :(“ i was just astronomically confused because the way they set up volume 1 it completely looked like mlvn was bones ESPECIALLY considering it wasnt just “look!! byler!!” it was also “look at all of mlvns problems!!”. and that couldnt have been queerbait because THEY DIDNT KNOW ITD BE IN TWO PARTS!!!!!!!!! so its not like they were like “ok lets build up byler and gain an audience for a month and then redeem mlvn”. they didnt know they would be doing that when they were still in production.

in just volume one we got (and these are just the biggies not everything) a very shitty “im not gay” bro tap instead of a hug after not seeing his best friend for months, el lying to him about being so happy and having so many friends in lenora because shes insecure about their relationship, mike being so fake too by avoiding eye contact with her and not seeming that engaged in whats going on the way she is, ignoring will but then listing off all these things he noticed, INSISTING that theyre just friends even tho will didnt even imply that he meant anything romantic, a track called IN THE CLOSET playing when MIKE SPEAKS, mike and els fight and el crying because he never says he loves her and he kinda gaslights her and turns it back around to the bullies and mouth breathers, “its hawkins its not the same without you”, the tripple take. theres literally so much.

ALLLLL that doesnt get erased just from one scene. and again, it wasnt initially intended to be in two parts so no, their thought process could not have been queerbaiting for why there was so much byler in volume one and not two.

i understand why the duffers said this was finns best performance. this would probably be an incredibly difficult thing to act out. its not just a love confession, its a love confession that he doesnt mean. but the audience doesnt know that. it couldnt be so obvious that EVERYONE immediately picks up on it being fake buts its still gotta be a little suspicious. he needed to put just the right amount of emotion so people may like it but also start to question it.

also his micro expressions are really good. this is not the face of someone about to tell the love of his life his feelings. its someone whos about to do something he doesnt want to do.

i honestly really hope next week we get the script for this scene. even if it doesnt give insight to mikes feelings, seeing el’s pov would also be really interesting. plz vote for it if its an option.

#bro i was just looking through my drafts and found this entire thing already written and i just never posted it for some reason #this was asked like a week ago #byler #eden answers

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in-myheartofhearts · 2 years

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I put together all the little scenes of the restaurant date from all the different trailers and tv spots we got so far.

And I have some things to say...

Clearly they will not call each other 'Dumbledore' and 'Grindelwald'. Its just an addition in the trailer to make it clear who speaks to who.

I really hope to hear 'Albus' and 'Gellert'.

Also, THAT FIRST LINE.

Gellert appears and instantly teases Albus asking him about his regular haunts. And pay attention to Albus' reaction to just hearing his voice, without even looking at him yet. His entire body freezes and he takes a big breath to prepare himself. Gellert approaches him with that flirty line and a little smile. And then Albus instantly feels relieved. His expression is calm and relaxed. His soulmate is in front of him, again. After all that time. And finally looking at Gellert he responds, chuckling. HE CHUCKLES.

For one little moment the world around them doesn't exist.

Two seconds and Mads and Jude did an amazing job already. There's so many things and layers. I'm impressed.

About Mads...

Can you see his very subtle but fundamental and marvellous way to put all these tiniest micro expressions while acting? Oh my God, I'm loving every single thing.

When he talks to Albus' about anything related to their bond, he becomes very intimate and sincere and he leans in, closer. Body language is so important here. Just watch. When he asks about the troth, telling him how he still feels it on his neck, he has this smily glimpse of nostalgia all over his face. Again, reminiscing Albus' words about the world and how would they've reshaped it, the fond on his face while looking at Albus (we can clearly see how he goes from his lips to his eyes) maybe remembering his younger version and that summer together is so evident and obvious.

In the end we have all the lines where he's distant, cold, threatening. Again, body language. He sits back, the smile is gone, the voice is steady. He clearly feels rejected and almost hurt. (Mads, I wanna hug you, please)

Also, I thought about that last 'no' from Albus and I feel like that's an answer to a question we haven't heard yet.

They delivered this scene perfectly so far.

Can't wait to see it in the movie.

#fantastic beasts 3 spoiler #fantastic beasts the secrets of dumbledore #fantastic beasts 3 #albus dumbledore x gellert grindelwald #albus x gellert #albus dumbledore #albus silente #gelbus #gellert grindleward #gellert grindelwald #dumbledore x grindelwald #grindeldore #grindelwald #jude law #mads mikkelsen

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scuttling · 3 years

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(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt #dad bod hotch

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asimpletroll · 3 years

Text

(A) (M) Chisaki Kai X (O) (F) Reader

You?

You were the Omega who had been stinking up his base for the last month?

YOU?

"-so sorry, so so sorry, I didn't see you, I was looking for Eri, Rappa startled her again, I swear I didn't mean to bump you-" You babble at Chisaki, close to your heat and scared of every Alpha in the base at the moment. You don't realize how his eyes have zeroed in on you, you're too busy cowering against the wall, trying to apologize and make sure he doesn't hit you, or worse.

"Be quiet." You immediately shut up, your throat feeling constricted even though he didn't use his Alpha tone or his Quirk on you, you look at him with watering (e/c) orbs as he strides over, taking off his coat slowly. "Your slick is dripping. I'll have someone else look for Eri, you need to get to your nest."

"...I...I live in the barracks, I-I can't-"

"Then come with me." He wraps an arm around you with care he never uses, making sure to keep his coat (you're so small it drops nearly to your knees, and Chisaki is swooning on the inside at how cute you look) between the two of you and wrapped securely around you so that no one else sees your current...predicament.

Chisaki notices your fear increasing, almost every step towards his private wing making you pump out more and more fear in your scent.

Normally, he can't even smell you, which is mildly disappointing to him because you smell citrus-y and a little sweet, but it was always very subtle and clean.

Now, all he could smell was your fear, and the urge to hole you away from everyone and everything was making him very twitchy as he opens the door to his wing.

You instinctively pause upon the threshold, your Omega screaming that this means this Alpha likes you, that it was time to Mate. Chisaki waits for you patiently, knowing the battle you're fighting and being fascinated by the micro-expressions racing through you. Your pupils twitch slightly in every which way, your ears perk and shift a little with noises, and your nose wrinkles a little (like the bunny he had as a child would) as you get particularly stressed.

"I cannot find you someplace comfortable if we loiter for much longer." He finally speaks up and tells you, you flinch a little, but follow his unmentioned command of 'hurry up' and almost bump into him again as he closes the door.

As soon as it shuts, lights flick on, and this time he gently wraps an arm around your waist as you spook. He gently lets you recover from your heart attack adjust to his touch, then guides you past several rooms that reek of other Alphas to you, and the locks on the door along with how reinforced they are tell you all you need to know about what might be in those rooms.

"I am unfamiliar with creating a space for a Heat, but I understand you require lots of blankets and soft things?" Chisaki asks you lowly, he spots the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rising, and your own scent smells sweeter, even with the fear overlaying it.

"Yes." You whisper, and try to hide (due to his lack of comment, you guess you hide it) the fact that you get mildly horny at just his voice.

Chisaki is amused by this, mostly by the fact that your entire face had turned red and was a very clear indicator of your dilemma to him.

"Why are you so afraid, Omega?" He asks you conversationally, as if he had by total and complete accident of course not dropped his voice several octaves just fool with you. You repress a shiver, and he grins under his mask, a very feral and smug grin, as he gently inhales your sweetened scent a bit more.

"M-My parents...they didn't...didn't want an Omega...didn't want me...so they would destroy my nests...even before I was revealed to be Quirkless..." You murmur quietly, timidly almost, to him, and he feels himself harden at how perfect you were for him.

"Why would they do that? Children smaller than four years old require softness or they are in danger of chewing something into pieces or eating it whole." Chisaki keeps his voice low, loving how you try and repress another shiver, and your pheromones almost choke him as he tries to gently sniff them again.

If you two didn't find an appropriate area soon, he may simply take you to his den, which would be twice as dangerous for the both of you.

"I...I don't know...it was...mildly better...after my little brother was born. He was a boy, an Alpha too, and he had a Quirk." You tell him, trying to make your clenching pelvic muscles stop their ridiculousness. Chisaki is too busy rolling his eyes to notice that you're starting to hold on to his coat a little tighter to try and hide the fact that your pants are officially soaked through.

"Oh...they're those types of people..." Chisaki says, his voice the lowest yet in barely-withheld rage, and a pitched whine escapes you before you wrap a hand around the base of your throat. Chisaki almost walks into a wall in surprise, you immediately sidestep as he steadies himself.

"I'm sorry-" You immediately return to the babbling mess you were in the hall, trying to appease him when even you can tell he isn't angry, in fact, if the crinkles by his eyes are any indicator, he's smiling under his mask.

But you're scared. And horny. So you run your mouth without thinking, apologizing frantically before he gently wraps his arm around your waist, he gently tugs you close to him, you keep your eyes averted and lowered to the floor, but he removes his face mask entirely in order to kiss your forehead gently.

You clench the hand around your throat tighter as he re-places his mask back on his face, he then runs a hand through your short hair tenderly. You look up at him from under your eyebrows, your lashes dark and long and thick as they frame your gorgeous (e/c) orbs.

"You simply startled me, there is no reason to apologize." He rumbles to you, his voice much lower now as his Alpha starts to really push for some attention. He watches with amusement and arousal as you clench your legs together, the slick now dripping low enough for him to see it, even with his jacket around you. "But may I ask you something?"

"Y-Yes, sir." You squeak, Chisaki goes from hard to full-blown, raging erection, you can barely hear him inhale, a very subtle noise that doesn't quite click in your mind until he presses the two of you together.

"...have you ever had an Alpha before?" He purrs, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head and all the fear leaves you immediately as you melt into him. "I'm guessing not."

"N-None o-of them-" You squeak slightly in indignation as Chisaki plucks you up from the floor like a ragdoll, gathering you into his chest and not minding your wet and sticky slick soaking into his chest. "-None of them ever w-wanted a Q-Quirkless Omega."

Chisaki is immediately disappointed, not in you or anything about you, but at the rest of society for letting such a sweet and pure thing sink so low as him.

"They were fools then, and did not deserve you." Chisaki turns down a hall, and it's getting very hard for you to not nuzzle him. His musky, beautiful scent was everything you've ever liked, blended together in such a complex way you couldn't describe all of the unique notes and subtle tones of it. Chisaki notices you eyeing his neck and gently presses your face into it, you let out a startled, but pleasantly so, squeak, and he purrs for real this time at the adorable noise.

Your slick surges and you let out a much higher-pitched purr, leaning in against him as he opens a door quietly, the hall light flicks off and leaves you in darkness before Chisaki gently closes the door with his heel. You've buried your face in his neck, blinding yourself to the fact that Chisaki has brought you to his room, his den and haven.

At least, until his no-longer-gloved hands sneak their way under his jacket, undoing a single button on your shirt to lay themselves on your bare waist. You gasp softly in surprise, moving your face from his neck just enough to give him a startled look.

He nuzzles you, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the door as he openly relaxes, holding you close while gently fondling your slightly-chubby-but-not-noticeably waist.

"C-Chisaki?" You squeak, one of his hands immediately rolls your shirt up and off of you, you squeak again in surprise, but he tossing your shirt and his coat haphazardly onto the floor. You immediately cover your breasts, your face once again blushing strongly, and he quickly does away with his masks as well, hanging them on a hook by the door as he gently turns your face to his by tenderly grasping your chin.

"I want you, Omega. I want you, (Y/N)." He rumbles, striding forward as you turn into a flustered, slicking, horny mess in his arms. His voice is like pure sex but only the deep, tasteful, romantic parts of it.

You mewl a little as he gently places you on his bed, but he rests his arms by your head and kisses you deeply, swallowing anymore noise with tenderness and care. You forget about your embarrassment as he gently move his lips against yours, his cock straining against his pants and pressing up against your legs a bit as he leans over you.

"Do you want me also?" Chisaki murmurs to you once the two of you run out of air to suck from each other's lungs, you immediately wrap yourself around him tightly. "Do you want me like I want you, (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Chisaki, yes I want you-" You don't get another words out as he kisses you again, his hands easily finding and undoing your bra before starting on the buttons of his shirt. Once you run out of air, he starts kissing the underside of your jaw as you pant quietly, he has to pause (his frustration visible) in order to pull his shirt off. You immediately touch the intricate, but traditional tattoos on his arms, pecs, and (you're willing to bet) his back. "You're so pretty, Chisaki."

"So are you, (Y/N), you just don't have art to paw at." He purrs as he descends on you again, you happily undo his tie for him as he kisses you, and the fact that you fumble with it from the distraction of kissing is adorable to him, and he can feel a small wet patch grow do to his leaking precum. You two pause again, and he attacks your throat and neck with powerful sucks and languid swipes of his tongue as you grind your clothed sex against his.

You gasp quietly when he whips your bra across the room, but he gently fondles one breast and you turn into a melty mess again. He chuckles, happily going back to his network of hickies trailing down your throat and across your shoulder. You happily tangle your hands in his hair, pressing him against you further with soft mewls of encouragement.

"A-Alpha, stop teasing!" You finally reach your breaking point, Chisaki almost rips your dress slacks in his immediately eagerness to get them off of you, you giggle a little and he blushes, burying his face in your neck before you tempt him out with kisses to his cheekbone and nose and the tip of his ear.

Then he actually rips them, his face morphing into one of shock and embarrassment as you giggle loudly and nuzzle him. He mumbles a hasty apology before eagerly pulling them off you, taking your panties with and tossing the mess by the foot of the bed before crawling up your body and trailing lazy kisses up from your bellybutton.

"Why are your pants still on?" You tease, kissing his nose before he can reply, he nips your bottom lip playfully, stilling feeling you up as you squirm gently.

"So impatient, (Y/N)." He teases right back, gently tugging on one of your nipples, you steal another kiss from him as he other hand (that is not forming a bruise on your nipple, not at all, no siree) trails down and teasingly circles your puffy little clit. You gasp in surprise, and Chisaki happily presses forward and slips his tongue and one finger into you at the same time. You melt into a happy, horny, submissive puddle under him, causing him to let out a deep and rumbling purr as he explores your mouth with fervent heat and dominance.

He gently explores your opening too, feeling you flutter around that single digit and getting painfully hard in his pants as he stretches you around a second finger. Your slick makes it easier, but it's still painfully obvious that you are still new at this. (So is Chisaki, but he's hoping you're too horny and heat-addled to realize this.)

You eagerly spread your legs a little, beyond ready for this part as your fingers once again find their way into Chisaki's well-kept hair and tangling it. You moan as his two fingers start to gently stretch you, you can feel Chisaki smile into the kiss a little before it goes from 'romantic exploring' into a creature of teeth and tongue and lots of purring from you both.

Unfortunately, Chisaki knows that you still need prepping, and as much as he enjoys the savage kiss, he separates to let you breathe and whimper and mewl as he continues to stretch you. (Both of you think this is taking a while, but this hasn't even been ten minutes since your butt hit his mattress.)

You surprise him when you nip his ear, but he happily turns your head and sucks on the tender skin underneath one of yours, returning you to the panting, mewling puddle. Your slick has surged so many times, his entire hand is covered up to his wrist, and he hasn't even gotten knuckle-deep yet.

"Such a messy Omega, (Y/N), look at what your naughty cunt has done to my hand." Chisaki purrs absolute filth into your ear, and your eyes roll slightly as you let out a porn star-worthy moan, his hips grind up against you exposed inner thigh roughly as he lets out a possessive growl. "Tell me, my messy Omega, who's making you so wet?"

"You, Chisaki, you are, Alpha!" You mewl, he slips a third finger in, starting to actually move deeper into you as you moan again, he happily continues to dirty-talk in your ear, telling you that this would have happened a lot sooner if you had told him that you were an Omega, he would have gladly bent his little nanny over his desk anytime. Or maybe he should've made you Present yourself to him, without any pesky suppressants to quell your scent, then he would've seen what a messy little cunt that hide itself in such a clean, proper suit would've been capable of.

Or maybe he should open the door, let the entire base hear you get railed.

You dissolve under him, not realizing that he's dissolving right with you, pulling his head closer to you as he finally extracts his fingers and simply Overhauls the rest of his clothes off. (Speaking of, where are your shoes? You swore you had them on in the hall, but your feet are bare now.)

"(Y/N), this may sting." Chisaki whispers into your ear, his head nudging your entrance gently, you tuck your face into his neck tightly, but you aren't afraid, simply nervous.

It does sting, but only enough to make you gasp a little, and that gasp is mostly from shock at Chisaki's sheer size. His girth and length were both big, and while he knows you've never had an Alpha before, this still made his already huge ego blimp.

"Chisaki, Alpha, you're huge." You pant into his neck, he struggles to fit himself into you, and you can feel the veins throbbing against your walls as he slowly sinks in, inch by inch, and you mewl once he reaches your G-spot. You pant against his skin as he slowly bottoms out in you, you can feel him twitching inside of you, but you were seeing stars anyway. "A-Alpha-"

"Sh, (Y/N), you need to adjust, Omega." He purrs into your ear, but his cock twitches strongly inside you at the thought of wrecking you severely, to where no man or Alpha could ever satisfy you again. "You're like a vice, Omega, you're squeezing me so tightly. What will happen when I blow my knot, hm? You're so small, I could break you in half with it."

You let out a sinful noise that Chisaki can barely recognize as an orgasm as you sink your teeth into his neck a little. You wrap your legs around his slim waist, anchoring him to you as your walls try to milk him through your orgasm.

"I can't wait for that sound to be my name, to hear you scream so hard the walls rattle-" This kick-starts his dirty-talk again as you slowly calm down, occasionally he shifts his hips, stimulating you just enough for you to know he's teasing you again. You actually clamp down on him and he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan that could make millions, and he slowly grinds against you.

"Naughty Omega, you naughty, naughty Omega." He rumbles from your shoulder, you pant happily in his ear, every deep, slow roll of his hip making you see stars all over again. "I should punish you for that, you naughty thing."

"Then punish me." You pant in his ear, the lick up the shell of it as he groans again, pushing a little harder against you this roll, "Punish me Alpha, make me regret teasing you."

Chisaki rumbles, he drags his hips out, and you expect another languid roll that hits all the right places, but he slams into you like a bullet-train instead.

You try to gasp in surprise, but he smirks against you skin, and that is the only warning you have before he starts pistoning his hips into yours at barely-human speeds.

"Gladly, Omega."

You open your eyes, sprawled out across Ch-Kai's chest, your face nuzzled under his chin softly as he continues to sleep while fully sheathed in you. You blink slowly and lazily a few times, trying to remember what day it is, and yawn quietly as you ponder. Kai shifts under you slightly as he stirs, you gently press your face back into the comfortable position you two had.

"How long have you been awake, (Y/N)?" He purrs at you, gently nuzzling you back as you yawn quietly against his throat. "Not long, sleepy-head?"

"Of course not, or I would've brought food." You sit up a little, your fresh Mating Mark stinging slightly as part of the coverlet falls off that shoulder. Kai gently licks it, you hum and kiss the side of his face gently. "If my math is right, today is Kurono's turn to make breakfast, he usually does something simple, like Omurice."

"Yes, but breakfast requires getting out of bed." Kai mutters, gently pulling you back down on his chest, you muffle a laugh at him as he settles his chin on the top of your head. "What? Eri was right when she called you the perfect cuddle-partner, as it turns out."

#soft #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha villains #overhaul #bnha smut #mha smut #villain smut #overhaul smut #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #a/b/o

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roanniom · 3 years

Note

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. ��Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito

#paper-n-ashes #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #Charlie Barber/reader #Charlie Barber/you #Charlie Barber fanfiction #Charlie Barber smut #marriage story fanfiction #Marriage Story smut #writing #smut #Roanniom #tw: unprotected sex #tw: choking

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ultfreakme · 4 years

Text

Scumbag System Donghua: A pleasant surprise

I know SVSS fans had low expectations for the donghua, including myself, but it has a lot of heart put into it. Sure, the animation isn’t the best but that’s more a budgeting issue. With what they did get, the donghua team did amazing work!

Scumbag System makes up for it’s subpar animation with very good storytelling. It managed to capture the essence of SVSS immediately.

This mocking narration by Shen Yuan of the basic premise with 2D animation so perfectly establishes the story and what kind of a person SY is. His humour, personality and how he sees the novel gets established very quickly and you can’t help but get attached to this dumbass who hate-read 6666 chapters of novel.

The next thing that caught my attention is the relationship between Sy!sqq and Lbh, how they establish where they are now and what they will be to one another in the future. I was happy to see that they didn’t try to imply any romance between Nyy and Lbh to un-homo it all. So far, they’re doing a lot to show how much sy cares for lbh. The observations from afar, they little moments between them in the op, and the BIGGEST, most beautiful fucking symbolism of all;

The Jade pendant and the Leaf

That pendant plays a really important role in their relationship in the novel, but the visual representation of it here exemplifies it. You have to watch the scene to know how beautifully it panned out. Leaves are very explicitly related to Sy!sqq here. Shen Yuan uses them to protect Luo Binghe from the shadows. Yes, Luo Binghe lost his mother and she is irreplaceable but he isn’t alone anymore. Shen Yuan will protect him.

The third thing which I loved was the attention to detail when it came to the MCs. Shen Qingqiu is absolutely, mind-boglingly gorgeous. They put in so much effort to make him beautiful. It’s nothing like the first few trailers.

THIS MAN! LOOK AT HIM!! WHAT’S HE SO GORGEOUS FOR!?(to distract us from the ctrl c+ ctrl v bg characters). He isn’t just pretty though. He’s expressive as heck. My main concern with 3D was expression, but the combination of all the painful effort into facial expressions added to the VA’s amazing work made Shen Yuan come alive!

They didn’t skimp on Luo Binghe. Oh no no no. This baby had me cooing at him in his entrance scene. He has large eyes and the prettiest face, plus he is even shorter than Ning Yingying when 14. They did a lot to make him the “pure white sheep”.

Look at this and tell me your heart didn’t break a little.

The VA also captures the “I’m so baby UwU!” thing perfectly and it just makes me want to protect this kid even more. Watching the episode, Luo Binghe had so many expressions going on when he got beat up by Ming Fan and his dumbass friends, I could feel his panic. The scene where he’s searching for the pendant, his frantic body language + the micro-expressions they tried to fit in. Perfection. I want to weep.

The donghua team is doing their very best to preserve the feel of the novel. It’s fast paced but it doesn’t feel like it and leaves you wanting more. Both episodes ended in such cliffhangers I wish I could just binge through this. They’re preserving the romantic elements between sy!sqq and lbh to whatever extent they can(the ed and op, my god they have me screaming)

Speaking of, the Opening and Ending are so beautiful. The Opening is stuck in my head.

JUST WATCH THE DAMN THING!

Yes the animation is clunky but the dialogue delivery, the comedic timing and the MC character designs+the soundtrack make up for it. Don’t let it go just because it’s a little difficult to get used to because you’ll be missing out. The donghua team did their best and I applaud them for doing so well.

#svss #scum villain #scum villain self-saving system #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #bingqiu #scumbag system #svss donghua #give it a shot you fuckers we stan a shitty millenial it cannot get worse #sqq beauty king #sqq is so pretty #no wonder lbh had a fat crush turned yandere love for him

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jasontoddiefor · 3 years

Note

at what point does eirtae realize that vader was having her teach luke things like politics because he was going to be made the emperor?

Anon how does it feel to be singlehandedly responsible for me updating this story again despite wanting to finish ALttCe first?

Luke was a sweet child, all of Padmé and Anakin’s eagerness and thirst for knowledge. He wasn’t necessarily a fan of sitting still for a prolonged time, but that was easy enough to accommodate. Eirtaé had never seen herself as a teacher, but she and Luke learned how to make it work together. Despite his young age, Luke could teach her plenty about making do with machinery and Eirtaé, in turn, taught him how to perfect his penmanship and grow plants from seedlings. She wrapped otherwise dry lessons up in stories of Padmé and invented ten new games a day to keep Luke interested, occupied, and away from Vader’s planning.

The man hadn’t involved himself too much in Luke’s education. In fact, he seemed to take very little interest in any aspect that didn’t pertain to the Force. He’d outright forbidden Eirtaé from even just mentioning the Jedi, but other than that, there were no instructions for her. Needless to say, it was unsettling. Eirtaé could think on her own, so she put together Luke’s lessons from typical children’s school plans and what she remembered from her own childhood. That it had been over two decades ago since she’d seen the inside of a school and had been training to become Queen at that point seemed to matter little.

So Eirtaé did her duties without knowing what such were. The longer this uncertainty lasted, the more aggravated did she become. It also didn’t help that Luke, ever inquisitive, asked her why he needed to learn a particular subject. Trying to elaborate on politics and law only worked by constantly reminding him that Padmé had been interested in politics. His disinterest wasn’t too surprising. Law mattered little on Tatooine, but Eirtaé would prefer it if she had a concrete answer for Luke besides a “because your father is a prick and won’t tell me why” hidden behind a smile and another anecdote of Naboo’s court.

When one Benduday proved to be the awaited opportunity with Vader appearing in a less awful mood than usual, Eirtaé seized her chance. She planted herself right in front of him, separating him from Luke, who was sitting at his desk.

“For what purpose did you bring me here?” Eirtaé asked without much preamble, staring directly into the dark lenses of Vader.

“Move,” Vader ordered, not particularly impressed, but Eirtaé wasn’t deterred.

“I asked you a question, My Lord.”

She said my Lord as one would say you bastard and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable, not that Vader didn’t deserve it. What wouldn’t she give to look at Anakin’s open face again, see all his micro-expressions.

“You are to teach and guide Luke. I assumed you had understood that.”

The man looked at her like he expected Eirtaé to move out of the way, cease being a nuisance and get back to her job. Luke was distracted still, doodling away in the room behind them. Eirtaé was smart enough to know that his nearby presence was the only reason that this wasn’t already escalating into a repeat performance of the first time she’d confronted Vader about his past. Much like Anakin, he didn’t take well to pushing. Unlike Anakin, he lashed out violently. Eirtaé had yet to carry lasting bruises, but it was only a question of time until she misstepped. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Vader’s patient was thin on a good day.

“I can teach him. I am teaching him,” Eirtaé replied. “But I don’t know to what end. You could have hired any droid to teach Luke mathematics and as neurotic as Threepio was—” and as insane as Artoo had become while flying with Anakin, “—you easily could have built a droid like him to teach Luke. You don’t necessarily need me here.”

It was a dangerous admittance.

One of the first things she’d been taught in her training had been to make herself valuable. Naboo’s handmaidens were favored kidnapping victims as they almost knew as much as their monarch but weren’t special otherwise.

They were replaceable, and so they had to make themselves special and worth the hassle of keeping around. To tell Darth Vader that she wasn’t an essential tool to his son’s education, the one thing her life currently depended on, was a gamble.

Eirtaé had never been fond of games of chance, but she was running out of cards to play.

“I need to know what I’m preparing him for or I will fail regardless of what I am teaching him because it might not be the lesson he truly needs,” Eirtaé finished her argumentation.

“He is my son,” Vader said as if that were an answer.

Eirtaé wanted to scream in frustration. She wasn’t Padmé, who had mastered the art of reading her husband within a week, or Kenobi, who’d been able to predict Anakin’s every step right up until he hadn’t.

“That is a statement, not an answer I can work with. What exactly do you want for your son?”

She got the sense that he was narrowing his eyes at her, torn between just pushing the nuisance out of the way and giving her an honest reply.

Luke is there, she told herself. As long as Luke was within reach, he wouldn’t hurt her, too afraid of what his son would end up thinking of him for hurting his beloved aunt.

“Luke is the son of your Queen. You are meant to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” Eirtaé hissed, ensuring to keep her voice down so Luke wouldn’t hear their argument. “Because I was also meant to protect my Queen and we failed because we didn’t know enough. I am loyal to my Queen and loyal to the Royal House of Naboo and that includes the child sitting behind me, but you cannot ask me to act on my loyalty and let me risk failing again at the same time.”

She didn’t think she’d be able to bear it. Eirtaé had been the first to understand why Padmé had been so foolish, for she loved the same way as her dear husband did, completely, entirely.

There were no fleeting crushes, no slow descend into love. It was a fast-paced rush. It had taken so much out of her to warm up to her Queen when she’d entered her court, jealousy still running through her veins, but once Eirtaé had been attached, she’d remained, unable to let go, to risk disappointing her Queen. Anakin Skywalker was just the same, as fiercely attached as Eirtaé could be and as Vader that quality only seemed to have twisted even more.

“You will not fail,” Vader said. “For now, teach him that he is the brightest star in the galaxy, that he was meant for all and everything there ever was and will be.”

All and everything, what a terrifying prospect from the Emperor’s enforcer—

Oh.

Eirtaé paled.

Nobody truly knew what Vader’s relationship to the Emperor was. The Emperor had no heirs by blood or adoption, and their Empire was too new to have established any kind of representative line in writing. Its form was not finished yet and Eirtaé dreaded the day it would be.

But Anakin Skywalker had spoken fondly of the Chancellor, his mentor. If Vader mentioned the Emperor at all in her presence, he called him Master and hissed that title in disdain. It did not resemble the love or adoration it used to carry when speaking of Kenobi.

Eirtaé also knew that it frustrated Vader to no end that he had to keep running missions for the Emperor and leave the two of them alone on Mustafar with nothing more than an upgraded droid squadron to protect them. Certainly, if the man knew that Vader had a child, a potential heir, he would give the man more time away.

Or he’d insist on raising the child himself, in the palace, far away from Vader’s influence and paternal care.

Eirtaé stepped aside, let Vader walk to Luke. The boy immediately perked up when he saw his father. Within the blink of an eye, he was out of his seat and had thrown himself at his father, blabbering away about his day and all he had learned today.

Did Luke know what Vader planned?

As soon as the question arose within her, Eirtaé discarded it. If he knew, he would have said something, made allusions to it. The boy was entirely clueless and for all sense and purpose, Anakin had never been a patient man and Vader wasn’t either.

He wouldn’t wait until the Emperor died of natural causes, he wouldn’t wait until his child was old enough and could understand the burden placed on his head.

He wouldn’t hide Luke away for a moment longer than necessary because his son was his sun, everything he loved and adored, the one pure thing in this galaxy.

Eirtaé swallowed as she watched father and son play, levitate little objects around the room.

All Hail His Imperial Highness, Luke Skywalker.

The Emperor.

#star wars #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #darth vader #eirtaé #tiny emperor luke au #fanfic #lesbianjaskiers #ask

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bestofbucky · 3 years

Text

The Reason (2/2)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, panic attack, FLUFF!

Summary: Part 2 to The Signal.

A/N: I hope you all like it! Also feel free to submit requests, prompts, anything you want in my asks. (That kind of rhymed haha)!

Bucky almost wished that Helen hadn’t turned up. Maybe then he could have accepted your fate. You could have drifted off peacefully, instead of surrounded by all this chaos.

The whole two hours on the quinjet he didn’t move, didn’t speak, just kept his eyes on the floor in front of him while doctors and nurses fought to keep you alive just three feet away. He blocked out their words, not wanting to hear what was happening, what was going wrong.

When they landed, you were wheeled away leaving Bucky and the other Avengers to sit in the waiting room. It wasn’t your average uncomfortable seats, too clean, sickly green walls, hospital waiting room. This was a SHIELD base so, due to the fact that agents would frequently be getting fatally injured, the waiting rooms had been given a makeover. Instead of having one big room there were lots of smaller ones, giving loved ones the privacy they needed.

Looking around, Bucky could see how the room could be soothing for someone. There were a plethora comfortable places to sit or lie down and a stash of blankets and pillows in the far corner. He spotted a diffuser, and smelt the lavender fragrance it was emitting into the room.

The Avengers all spread out, none of them brave enough to talk. The only sounds filling the room were occasional sniffles, instrumental music flowing from the speakers and the low hiss of the diffuser.

Bucky couldn’t sit still, the repetitive music intended to calm the listener was doing the opposite. He could smell the lavender and all it was doing was reminding him of the baths you two would take together after grueling missions. His foot starts bouncing up and down as the music becomes the only thing he can hear and the smell attacks his nostrils.

He tries to focus on something else. Anything else, but his mind just keeps drifting back to you. The smell of your hair, the taste of your lips, the soothing touch of your hands. He wants to make it stop. He can’t make it stop. It’s too much.

He stands up abruptly, shocking a few people near him and stomps out the room. He finds himself laser focused on the wall ahead of him as if it’s the reason this is happening to you. He lands a hard punch. It’s the wall’s fault you got hurt. It’s the wall’s fault because it didn’t protect you. It’s the wall’s fault because it has done so many horrible things in the past and this is just the universe paying the wall back for all of it. The wall doesn’t deserve to be happy, he lands another punch to prove his point.

Exhaustion causes Bucky to collapse to the ground, his chest heaving as he holds his head in his hands and rests his elbows on his knees. His head is spinning and he tries to focus on his breathing to calm himself down. The only noise he can hear is the wheezing of his breath as he sucks in air at an erratic pace.

Suddenly Steve is in front of him. He places his hands on the sides of Bucky’s face forcing him to look at him. Steve’s hands quickly become wet with tears but he doesn’t care. He only cares about calming his closest friend down. He speaks reassuring words and eventually Bucky manages to get his breathing under control and the world comes back into focus.

Bucky looks up into Steve’s eyes, which are red and puffy. He doesn’t even want to think about what his own look like. Steve pulls him into a hug and they stay holding each other as Bucky sobs into his chest. They eventually pull apart and Steve moves to sit next to Bucky, both leaning against the wall. They stay in silence, Steve knows that if Bucky wanted to say something he would.

They sit there together until they spot Helen Cho heading into the waiting room. Gathering up the courage Bucky stands up, wiping at his face to get rid of any tears still left over. He glances at the wall, the two huge dents staring right back at him like a pair of eyes, but before his mind can tumble down the slope of self deprecating thoughts, Steve places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and guides him to the waiting room.

Stepping into the room, Bucky's eyes quickly fall to Helen. He notices her unkempt hair, the slouch in her shoulders and the slight drag of her feet as she walks to the edge of the room. He starts to wonder if Helen is feeling grief because you didn’t make it or exhaustion from the hours of extreme care you have been under.

Helen knows that there are assassins in the room, trained to pick up on micro-expressions and body language so she decides to get right to the point. “She is alive and stable.”

Collective sighs are heard around the room. Tears fall from Wanda’s eyes just from the sheer relief that you are ok.

“She lost a lot of blood and was bleeding internally. We had to take the shrapnel out, treat the internal bleeding and then close the wound. Due to the size of the wound we inserted a drain to prevent infection. It will be kept in for a minimum of two days depending on how well it heals. We need to keep her here to monitor her recovery.” Helen explains to the room. “You can go and see her whenever you’re ready but she’s still under from the anesthesia.”

After giving the directions to the room you’re in she excuses herself. Most likely heading somewhere to rest, understandably so.

The Avengers all make their way out of the room, Tony being the last out and mumbling something to Steve. He nods and turns to Bucky.

“We’re all going to make our way up to check on her, you can come with us or you can go take a shower and change so you can stay with her until she wakes up. Completely up to you.” Steve explains.

“I’ll go clean up, just please don’t leave her alone. I’ll be really quick.” There is still fear in Bucky’s eyes so Steve reassures him they will all stay with her until he gets there.

Bucky makes his way to the quinjet to grab a change of clothes and then heads to a private room. He showers as quick as he can, he just wants to see you, to hold you in his arms and be near you. He rushes to your room but hesitates when he reaches the door.

He is like a deer in headlights, he wants so badly to go inside and see that you are ok but something is stopping him. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. Suddenly the door is opening, he quickly retreats.

“Bucky?” It’s Tony, he walks out and closes the door behind him. Bucky just stares, trying not to let the tears that are gathering in his eyes fall down onto his cheeks. Tony takes a few steps closer.

“How is she?” Bucky hesitantly asks.

“She is alive.” Tony sighs, he can’t lie to Bucky. “It isn’t going to be easy, when you walk in there. She doesn’t look like herself and it might be shocking, but she needs you. She needs you to be there at her side when she wakes up. Can you do that for her?” Tony places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and eventually Bucky nods.

Tony guides him to the door but takes a few steps back when they get there. It needs to be Bucky’s decision to go in, he can’t be forced in. He places his hand on the handle and slowly pushes the door open.

Walking into the room his eyes scan over your body. Tony was right, you don’t look like yourself. He panics a little because you don’t really appear to be alive, your body is so still, but he settles when he sees you are hooked up to a heart monitor and it is steadily beeping. He has never seen you so vulnerable and weak and it breaks his heart. He is brought out of his trance by the sound of the door closing, indicating all the Avengers had left the room. It was now just the two of you and all the machines and tubes you were connected to.

He walks over and takes a seat by your head afraid at first to go near you, but every so often he shuffles the chair closer and closer until he is right next to the bed. His hand inches towards yours, retracting when he feels how cold your hand is but eventually he holds it with both of his hands, bringing it gently up to his lips.

He stays holding your hand but tiredness hits him like a truck. It wasn’t just the kind of tiredness you felt in your eyes, no he felt it everywhere, his bones, his muscles but also his mind. He felt like his brain had been working overtime, processing everything that had happened, he wanted nothing more than to just let himself slip into a deep sleep.

He rests his head on the edge of the bed, telling himself he is only resting his eyes, he wanted to be awake when you woke up but he couldn’t stop sleep from taking over. Stealing his consciousness from him like a petty thief.

You could feel your senses start to come back online. Your ears filled with the sound of consistent beeping, it was annoying but also slightly relaxing, the speed and pitch of each beep gradually hypnotising you. You shift your focus, you hear a low grumbling sound. It only lasts a few seconds and then it goes quiet. Then you hear it again, and again. Snoring.

You blink your eyes open and you’re greeted with a plain white ceiling, not very interesting at all. You continue to hear the grumbling sound so you decide to sit yourself up a bit to find the source. That was not a good idea, the movement sent shooting pains from your side up and down your body and you hiss at the pain. The grumbling stops with a weird grunt and you feel movement by the side of the bed.

“Doll? Are you awake?” The brown haired man comes into your view, his sleepy face showing the happiness he holds to see you are awake.

You go to speak but your voice is scratchy and just comes out as an undecipherable croak. You start to get distressed that you can’t speak.

“You’re ok doll. I’m here. You’re safe.” Bucky soothes you, stroking his hand over your hair.

Once you have calmed down Bucky presses the button for assistance and goes to fill up a plastic cup of water.

You take the cup from him, deliberately brushing his hand with yours. You hold on to one of his hands and slowly bring it to your lips. His entire body relaxes and he smiles down at you.

You point to the back of your head and then to the cup of water and he seems to understand. He places his hand at the back of your head helping you lift your head, supporting all your weight with his hand so you don’t have to strain your neck. You raise the cup up to your lips and take small sips, the water instantly refreshing your dry mouth and throat.

The nurses come in and do all the checks they need to, everything is looking as good as it should. Once they have all left you look back to Bucky who has taken his place back in the chair by the side of your bed. You reach your hand out and he takes it, holding it as if it was the rarest jewel on earth.

“Thank you.” You manage to croak out. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but quickly closes it when he sees the look on your face.

“You’re welcome doll.” He smiles back at you. “You should get some rest.” His smile is replaced by a caring frown which makes you chuckle slightly.

“Sleep with me?” You give him your best puppy eyes which only makes the creases in his forehead more prominent.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits sheepishly.

“They put me in a double bed for a reason.” It still hurts to talk so you hope that he isn’t going to need anymore convincing. You smile when he gets up and helps you shift to one side of the bed. He very carefully slides in next to you, his arms gently wrap around you as he tries to avoid everything that is attached to you and be as far away as possible from your wound.

You can feel his body is still tense so you squeeze his hand and gently rub circles on the back. Letting out a sigh of contentment you close your eyes, allowing sleep to sweep you away.

Bucky was not so lucky, he loved having you in his arms but he was terrified to move in case he hurt you in any way. He just listened to the sound of your slow breathing which eventually lulled him into sleep.

You were both woken up by the nurses entering the room, saying they had to do their regular checks. Bucky slipped out from the bed to give them room, heading to the bathroom to give you some privacy.

He stared into the mirror, the events that have taken place clear in the sag of his skin and the puffiness of his eyes. Sighing, he splashed some cold water on his face before drying off and heading out of the bathroom.

The nurses had left and you were sitting up in bed, still to one side leaving room for Bucky. Again, he very carefully took his place next to you, wrapping one arm around your shoulders the other hand resting on your thigh.

He leans over to you and kisses you on the cheek. The words you both want to speak hang heavy in the air above your heads.

“Bucky I-” “Doll-”

You both chuckle at the awkwardness. “You go first.” Bucky encourages you with a smile.

“When we were out there, you told me not to say something.” You pause to gather your thoughts but Bucky takes this as an invitation to speak.

“I am so sorry. I never should have taken that away from you, I just didn’t think I could handle it if those words came out of your mouth.” His words fall out of his mouth in a jumbled mess but you understand.

“You knew what I was going to say?” You ask and he nods.

“You told me not to say it. To hold onto it as a reason to fight for survival. You don’t realise it already was my reason to fight. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are my reason to live.” You look up at him, a few tears falling down your cheeks but you notice he is the same.

“I love you Bucky.”

“I love you doll.”

His smile is the biggest you have ever seen. His happiness beams out of his body and lights up the room. He reaches a hand up to your cheek to wipe away the tears. Leaning in slowly he presses his lips to yours. In that kiss you feel his emotion, the unspoken words that don’t need to be shared because the kiss is saying everything it needs to. In that kiss you are transported to another world, a heaven but in that kiss you are brought home.

Pulling away for breath you are both glowing, basking in each other’s love and the comfort in brings.

“Say it again.” Bucky asks you.

“I love you Bucky.”

“Again.” You are both laughing now.

“I love you Bucky.” Before he has the chance to ask you again you cup his cheek with one hand, the hand on your good side. You pull him closer to you and press kisses all over his face whispering ‘i love you’s in between each kiss.

Both your chuckles fill the room, replacing the atmosphere of sickness with one of joy and love. In that moment you felt like Bucky’s love could completely heal you.

That day all the avengers came to see you, bringing flowers and gifts. There were tears shed but they were happy tears. Tears showing how grateful you all are to have your little family, to have endless love and support surrounding you. The only time Bucky left your side was when he had to, but as soon as he could he was right back next to you, kissing everywhere he could reach.

That night you fall asleep in Bucky's arms knowing this is where you will be for the rest of your life. Your mornings will start with Bucky because he is the reason you smile when you wake up. Your evenings will end with Bucky because it’s his touch that can soothe you off to sleep. You want to be with Bucky forever because he is the reason you live.

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