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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 months

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Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.

A327. That was the room John apparently was in.

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.

324. 325. 326.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”.

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?”

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

272 notes · View notes

simmerianne93 · 4 months

Text

[Simmerianne93]Xmas_poses_15

HELLO EVERYONE HO HO HO!!!

¡¡MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

I was initially going to post these poses in Early Access for Patreons, but then I decided they were too "Christmasy" and I needed to post them as my Christmas gift to everyone... I hope you had an amazing 24 night and that the man with the red hat has brought you many gifts.

I also hope you enjoy these family & friends' portrait poses that I have made with a lot of love. They are poses that can be adaptable, some of 3 can be used for 2 sims, 4 for 3, 2 and even 1 sim and so on, so use your imagination and have fun with them.

Thank you very much to each and every one of those who follow my creations. There are still a couple of poses left for this year, but in advance, I thank you for your support this year and I wish you lots of health and prosperity as a Christmas gift.

I also have to thank my dear best friend @Yrandsims, who helped me by making the amazing cover photo for the package. Thank you very much, it is beautiful!!

And again: MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

But without going much further, I leave you with the descriptions of the poses:

----------

What is on it?

9 Groupal poses (3 to 8 sims):

1 Trio pose for two ADULT sims and an INFANT.

2 Groupal poses for two ADULT sims, a CHILD sim and a TODDLER sim.

1 Groupal pose for two ADULT sims, a CHILD sim and two INFANT sims.

2 Groupal poses for two ADULT sims, two CHILDREN sims and an INFANT sim.

1 Trio pose for two PREGNANT sims and a NORMAL ADULT sim.

1 Groupal pose for two PREGNANT sims, a NORMAL ADULT sim and a TODDLER sim.

1 Big Groupal pose for two ADULT sims, two CHILDREN sims and four TODDLER sims.

---

What do you need?

Andrew's poses player

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo or Mccc by deaderpool.

a 3sits sofa.

a chair.

Nickname's acoustic guitar.

Invisible infant mat replacement by mcrudd (OPTIONAL)

Instructions in the original post.

——

TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

——

Download it now here — [FREE FOR EVERYONE]

——————

If you want to support me: Patreon | Ko-fi

For more poses: Pinterest | Wix

My socials: Twitter | Instagram | BlueSky

——————

I really hope you like them and I will say on advance: Thank you so much for use them.

@ts4-poses

323 notes · View notes

sergeantbarnessdoll · 5 months

Text

Christmas Hats and Magnets » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 7th

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Isabella and Alpine

Summary: Bucky’s and Y/N’s 4 year old daughter gives Christmas hats to her parents and puts magnets on her daddy’s metal arm.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, cuddling, nicknames for daughter (princess, baby girl), pet names for reader (doll)

Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for this adorable Christmas idea!❤️💚

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

“Mommy! Daddy! Wake up! It’s Christmas time!” Isabella says excitedly, jumping up and down on yours and Bucky’s bed.

You opened your eyes to see Isabella wearing a Santa hat. You sat up and pulled her on your lap and gave her kisses.

“Daddy’s still sleeping. We need to be quiet.” You whisper.

“Daddy sleeping.” She whispers back.

You carefully got out of bed with Isabella in your arms so you guys didn’t wake up Bucky. You took Izzy to the living room so she can watch TV and play while you made breakfast.

“Do you want pancakes or waffles?” You asked her.

“Waffles please!” Isabella says politely with a smile.

“Good choice!” You smiled.

You went to the kitchen and got everything you needed to make breakfast. A few minutes later, you felt a little hand tugging your -Bucky’s- shirt. You looked down to see Isabella looking up at you.

“Can I have a juice box please?” She asks.

“Of course, baby girl.” You walked to the fridge and opened it. “What flavor do you want? Apple, Orange, or Fruit Punch?” You asked.

“Fruit Punch.” She says.

You grabbed a Fruit Punch juice box, opening it for her and gave it to her.

“Thank you, mommy!” Isabella says, taking it from your hand.

“You’re welcome. Try not to spill it.” You say.

Isabella nodded and went back to the living room to play and watch TV. Another few minutes go by when Izzy comes back in the kitchen.

“Do you need something else, baby girl?” You asked her.

“No. I have something for you!” Isabella hands you a Santa hat. “I have one for daddy too and I put one on Alpine!” She tells you.

You smiled, taking it from her hand and put it on.

“Now we’re twins!” She says, clapping her little hands before running back to the living room.

You went back to making breakfast. A little bit later, you went in the living room to get Isabella for breakfast, but you didn’t see her in there. You assumed she went to her bedroom for something or to play. You went upstairs and poked your head in her bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows when you didn’t see her in there. That’s when you heard little giggles coming from yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You walked down the hallway to the bedroom to see Isabella sitting next to her sleeping daddy and putting Christmas magnets on his metal arm. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. Bucky’s eyes fluttered opened when he heard giggling. He seen Isabella sitting next to him, continuing to put magnets on his metal arm.

“What are you doing, princess?” Bucky asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Making your arm look Christmasy!” She says.

Bucky lifted his metal arm to see a variety of different Christmas magnets on it.

“I also have this for you!” She says, handing him a Santa hat.

“Thank you, princess.” Bucky smiles and put it on.

“Me and Alpine have one too!” Isabella pointed at Alpine who was sleeping on her cat tree. “Mommy does too!” She says, pointed at you.

“All three of you look beautiful with them on.” He says, kissing her forehead.

You smiled and walked towards the bed and got on it.

“Good morning, Mr. Claus.” You kissed Bucky’s lips.

“Good morning, Mrs. Claus.” Bucky kisses you back.

“Hey!” Isabella shouted, getting yours and Bucky’s attention. “I’m still here!” She pouted, crossing her little arms over her chest.

Bucky grabbed her and put her on his lap. You and Bucky attacked her with kisses and tickles causing her to let out squeals and giggles.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Let’s go downstairs and eat breakfast before it gets cold.” You say.

“Mommy made waffles!” Isabella gets off of her daddy’s lap and carefully got off the bed. “Hurry up before I eat them all!” She shouts on her way out of the bedroom.

Bucky got out of bed and ran up behind her, picking her up causing her to squeal and giggle again. You followed them to the kitchen. You pour two cups of coffee, one for you and one for Bucky. You went to the dining room and gave Bucky his coffee and Isabella her breakfast. You went back to the kitchen for yours and Bucky breakfast and went back to the dining room. You took a seat next to Bucky.

“This looks delicious, doll.” Bucky compliments making you smile.

“Thank you, Buck.” You kissed his stubbly cheek.

Bucky turned his head to capture your lips in a kiss making you smile against his lips.

“No kissing! I’m trying to eat my waffles!” Isabella shouts making you and Bucky laugh at her cuteness.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

238 notes · View notes

joshsbimbo · 4 months

Text

christmas special

part 1

pairings: bottom! josh futterman x mommy! reader

warnings: orgasm denial, over stimulation, cock ring, cnc, restraints, candle wax, not really christmasy….

a/n: crappy cropping of josh so you can see his handcuffs!! :3

♡ during your whole shift, you couldn’t stop thinking of josh. the way his large hands explored your body, his pleading eyes, his sounds, him. the scent of your lotion lingering on your hands, remembering how, after the shower, he lovingly massaged your body with it.

♡ “excuse me?!” an old lady screams, “don’t you work here?!”

♡ “how can i help you, miss?” you say, forcing a smile.

♡ 10 am to 8 pm. almost 12 fucking hours, and you’re finally out. it felt like an eternity. you’re standing outside in the cold fresh air. before leaving, you got a couple of gifts for josh.

♡ you unlock the door and enter inside the house you two shared, going to the christmas tree and scanning the wrapped parents. you could only got gift bags for his presents, frowning as you set them under the christmas tree.

♡ “hey, baby!” josh greeted you with a huge smile, pulling you into a hug. you sink into his hug, inhaling his scent. you two haven’t been able to be together outside of the morning and night, so christmas felt extra special. you pull away and look into his eyes, his touch feeling so warm and loving.

♡ “oh!” he gasps and reaches down to one of the present, pulling it away from the others. “let’s open our presents, pleaseeee!”

♡ you giggle and sit down beside him, putting your head on his shoulder as you open his presents. “you’re so sweet to me, joshy..”

♡ he pecks your cheek, smiling so hard as you open your present. it was your signature perfume, “oh my gosh, is this why you told me not to buy a new one when i complained i was running out?” you giggle and hug him.

♡ “you’ve been working so hard, i wanted to get you something that i knew you would like..” he blushes softly and looks away.

♡ “you’re so cute!!” you squeal and peck kisses all over his face.

♡ soon, it’s the present josh kept hiding away from you. you undo the ribbon and open it. four pairs of handcuffs, a candle, and a lighter.

♡ you look up at him as he’s smiling and fumbling with his hands, “i thought we could try something new..”

♡ “you’re so cute! of course we can!” you return the smile and kiss his cheek. as you hug him, your other hand trails down to his member. you tease his tip through his pants, feeling him tense up. “how long have you been waiting for this, pretty boy?”

♡ “g-got.. your gifts s’ early..” he mumbles, hiding his flushed face by burying it into your neck.

♡ “how early, hm?” your whispering in his ear caused goosebumps, his breath hitching.

♡ “s-since last month..” he whimpered out, your hand continuing to palm at his clothed bulge.

♡ “aww, my poor baby has been waiting sooo long.” you kiss his flushed cheek and look into his eyes, “let mommy help you, okay?”

♡ the cute boy nods, following you as you led him to the bedroom. “strip for mommy.”

♡ he has been used to you ordering him around, but his shyness never went away. he avoided eye contact with you as he lifted his shirt off, yet his red cheeks were still visible. as he pulled down his sweatpants, he tried to hide his bulge.

♡ “c'mon, all of it.” he sheepishly pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and something else..

♡ “tell mommy what you’re wearing.” you demand, smiling. you knew exactly what it was, but you loved when he acts too shy to do anything.

♡ “a.. um.. a uh… c-cock ring…” he muttered.

♡ “raise your voice, baby,”

♡ “a cock ring!” he blurted out, hiding his face in his hands. “d-didn’t wanna cum before you came house..” his cock was fully hard with a cock ring under his tip, pre cum was leaking down his shaft.

♡ “such a good baby..” you kiss his forehead before pushing him on the bed, taking out the handcuffs.

♡ you pet his brown hair, then his cheek, before locking one handcuff. you locked his wrists to the headboard and his ankles to the footboard.

♡ “are you comfortable, my love?” you ask as you pet his cheek.

♡ “mhm, yes..” he whispered, leaning into your touch.

♡ “you remember the safe word, right?”

♡ “yes! bubble gum.”

♡ “good boy.” you stroke his cock slowly, watching as more pre cum leaks from his swollen tip. “how long have you been wearing this, baby?”

♡ “s-since you left..” he watches as you stroke him, he missed your touch so, so much.

♡ “how did i get so lucky to have such a cute boy, hm?” you watched how his expression changed as you stroked his cock faster, feeling it throb in your hand.

♡ “m-mommy..! t-the ring.. please..” he whines, wanting to cum so badly.

♡ “i didn’t forget about it, darling.” you continue to stroke his cock, his back arching as you tease him. his moans got louder, his eyes screwed shut, his eyebrows furrowed, and his teeth biting into his lips.

♡ as soon as you let go, he whined loudly. “whyyy..?” tears running down his cute cheeks.

♡ “you didn’t think i would let you cum so easily..” you smile at his pathetic face, you light the candy cane scented candle before stroking his cock again.

♡ his cock ached for more every time you let go, “pleeease, mommy..!” his hips thrusting up for more but only being able to meet the cold air. you pour the melted candle onto his chest, his moans filling the air.

♡ “you’re being so good, joshy.. such a good boy for mommy, hm?” all he could do was whine at your words. he desperately wanted more, his wrists and ankles getting sore from trying to pull away from the restraints.

♡ pre cum leaked from his twitching cock, tears running down his flushed cheeks, his lips glossy from his drool. he looked so doll-like.

♡ “m-mommy.. need more, please..” his words barely sound audible from his high-pitched whines. his back arching as you pour more of the warm wax onto his bare chest.

♡ the wax melts before you rub his chest as you stroke his cock. your hands trailing up to tease his nipple, pinching it as you stare at his expressive face.

♡ by the time of his fifth orgasm denial, he’s screaming and begging for more.

♡ “pleasseee, mommy! been a good boy for you..! p-please pleaseplease need more!” he’s sobbing out, so much pre cum around his cock and balls, his tip was so wet and red, twitching so much, his chest rising up and down for air..

♡ “shh, shh, mommy got you..” you take off his cock ring. after only a couple of strokes, he releases his cum onto his chest, a bit on his face, his thighs, and on your hands.

♡ it felt like an eternity before the last drop dripped down his still hardened cock. you lick the cum from his cheek down to his chest, swirling your tongue around his nipples. he was already so sensitive from the edging, practically sobbing for you to stop.

♡ you lick the rest of his cum on his chest, going down to his thighs. sucking hickeys onto his plumpness, so close to his sensitive cock.

♡ “m-momma.. can’t take anymore, please!” he begged, but you didn’t listen

♡ you put one of his balls into your mouth, feeling it retract. you licked the cum from them quickly, knowing that josh could cum at any second.

♡ you enter his sensitive tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and swallowing the cum. you slowly sink down, feeling it throb as you reach down to his pubic hair. looking up to see his head sinking into the pillow as he shakes underneath you. his cock twitching as he cums deep into your throat, “mommy..! s-stop.. no more!”

♡ and you stop, you stop so you can take off your work clothes. he watches eagerly as you reveal your breasts, his body betraying him as his cock hardens again. giving him the perfect view as you take off your pants, showing the panties he got for you from your last shopping trip. his eyes scanning your body, especially your wet cunt, as you take off your panties.

♡ “mommy has missed her baby..” you say as you sit on his lap, your wet pussy covering his hard, sensitive cock.

♡ “i-i missed you too, missed you so much..” forgetting about the restraints, trying to lean forward to give you a kiss.

♡ you giggle at his attempt, leaning down to kiss him. he hungrily explores your mouth, moaning as he still tastes his cum on your tongue. you grind against his sensitive cock as he greedily kisses you. he missed your lips so badly, whining when you pull away.

♡ you lift yourself up to position his tip to your hole, slowly sinking down as he tries to thrust into you. “i love my needy boy..” you admire him as you ride his cock slowly.

♡ “l-love.. you.. too, m-mommy..” he says between whimpers, his cock so sensitive that more tears run down his cheek. his eyes were so puffy, looking up at you with his puppy eyes.

♡ “you’re so pretty, you know that?”

♡ “hmm,, my m-momma.. so pretty too..” he mumbles out, barely able to form a sentence as you continue to milk him dry.

♡ you two lock eyes as you ride him. he tries to keep them open but the mixture of a goddess on his sensitive cock makes it so hard. he pulls on his restraints, desperately wanting to touch your curves.

♡ you tighten around his cock and lean in, covering his face with your tits. he tries to enter your buds into his mouth as you ride him, looking up, his pretty eyes getting lost in yours, his cock aching inside of you.

♡ “i love you,” he mumbles against your breasts.

♡ “i love you too, baby.” you moan out as you ride his cock, tightening around him as you cum on his cock. you ride your orgasm out, your hands on his chest as you try to hold yourself up.

♡ he holds his breath as he cums a small pathetic load into you, barely able to fill a teaspoon. he pants and whines as his cock twitches and tries to release more.

♡ you pull off his cock and smile down at him, unlocking his restraints. as soon as his hands are free, he touches all over your body. your hips, stomach, thighs, and especially your face.

♡ you giggle and lay down next to him. he pulls you close and kisses all over your face. “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou,” he mumbles into your skin.

♡ “i love you too, joshy.. merry christmas..”

make sure to practice aftercare, OKAY???

thx for reading, babes <3

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x reader smut #josh futterman x reader smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman #josh hutcherson #lamb writes

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just-a-floofy-catt · 4 months

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@agent-darkfest Hey i was your Secret Santa!!! :D

Your art and style are literally gorgeous and i had such a good time doing my research and browsing through your stuff! ^^

All your designs for your AUs are so cool too!!!

I tried to get something done for both of your AUs :)

I really hope its okay that its not 100% accurate to the AU!

I just got this idea because of all of his connections to crows and literally could not get it out of my head TwT

✨️Infested✨️

My brain

I also actually had alot of fun rendering this ^^

I did also consider an alternate piece just incase this one was a little too far off, but as seen by my last minute posting, i may have tried to bite off a bit more than i could chew and not gotten to do everything i wanted to complete 😅

I did have a list of sketch/doodle ideas like some more Christmasy things, stuff to do with your Metal au yn and some Farm shenanigans that i was going to compile and add but ended up not having time

But ill probably still do them because i dont think my brain would let me go on without doing so XD

So those will probably get posted soon as extra little bits, too! ^^

And for the Metal au i did this silly little comic!

I hope its not out of character for the au or anything 😅

But after seeing the little comic of where they first started i couldnt help but imagine mischief like this ^^

Honestly, im actually quite nervous about showing this

After spending so long thinking of ideas and getting excited about drawing them, i will admit im still a little worried that i misinterpreted something or did something incorrectly TwT

But i guess i just really hope that you like it in the end! ^w^

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st4rgzer · 6 months

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FLIGHT TICKETS (nathan doe)

summary: you miss your brothers and Nate tries to help you in the best way he knows how

genre: FLUFFFLUFF

cw!: mentions of missing your brothers…?

a/n: i think this was requested by @iha8you i think

“hey you know who we haven’t seen in a while?” i say, with my legs rested on his lap, we’re both laying on the couch, watching a cheesy rom-com only I enjoy.

“who?” he asks, diverting his gaze from the movie and onto me.

“my brothers, now that they’re internet famous and living in LA, we haven’t seen them since like, august” I sit up so I can look at him better, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

“yeah you’re right” he thought for a moment, given the 5 hour plane ride would take at least ‘some’ planning to do. “do you wanna call ‘em and see if we can plan to go there?” nate says before picking up the remote and pausing the movie. He gets out his phone before my response to see the earliest flights available.

“yeah but babe, calm down, we don’t have to do this like, right now” I say, laughing a little bit. Living so far away from my brothers hasn’t been the easiest so Nate was always there for me when they couldn’t be, so he sometimes overdoes it with these things, but i don’t mind, the majority of the time….(foreshadowing the“puppy love”fic im working on…)

“but- you’ve been talking ‘bout how you miss them lately, with all the christmasy stuff and all” he says, grabbing my hand reassuringly. He never liked seeing me sad, he knew that christmas meant a lot to me and to not have them around for all the pre-christmas traditions wasn’t nice. He also missed them, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“i know, i know. But we really don’t have to think about this today, we’ll get the flights tomorrow, lets just finish the movie first m’kay?” I pleaded, squeezing his hand and smiling at him, trying to not get him to rush on making decisions.

“finee” he sighed, caving in “but I don’t even like the movie…” he muttered under his breath.

“what d’ya say?” i asked, turning my head to him with a half joking, questioning look.

“….nothing…?” he mumbled with a grin on his face, trying to hide the fact that he tried to say he didn’t like to watch “ten things i hate about you” for the 10th time, which he did enjoy of course, but just cause it was with me.

I let him off easily and just grinned, rolling my eyes at him, and curling up besides him, snaking an arm around my waist and bringing me in.

A while later, as I was drifting off to sleep, he took out his phone, quickly bringing the brightness down to not disturb me, and opening up “skyscanner” he typed up “boston-los angeles flights” and got looking, I peered open my eye just a bit and smiled when I saw him looking cautiously through the flight info, eventually putting in his credit card information and turning his phone off. God he was stubborn but I couldn’t help but melt at his determination to make me smile.

“i love you” I whispered beside him, eyes closed, a smile still on my face, he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek in response and turned the volume on the tv down.

I guess we’re going to LA?

a/n: sorry this was short bbg @iha8you

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @gabbylovesreading @slaysturniolo @stvrni0lo @sturniolol @stvrniolo @20nugs @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms @ifilwtmfc

#nathan doe fanfic #nathan doe #nathan doe x reader #fanfic

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izayoichan · 5 months

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Shelter Stories: Teddy's Christmas tales. 🎶

Teddy: I figured I'd try my hand at this. I know other family pets have done this, so this year I will try and do some. Is this me showing you pets that need homes and some cute random things with my favorite people? Yes, yes it is.

I am one of the lucky ones myself, I was a shelter puppy, and then magically I found my forever human in Liam, and we now work together to help other pets find their furever home!

(At least as much as I can manage, as my irl health is kinda shitty atm, so my focus on anything is low, but I do love Christmas so, I will try)

#simblr #the ward legacy #ts4 #ts4 story #writblr #ts4 alpha #Teddy Ward #I wanted to do something christmasy #but I admit I have had just about 0 energy lately #so yeah #still trying #but not promising anything every day #Teddy is here to guide you all though #for whatever and whomever we will meet

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seungmoonandstars · 4 months

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✩•̩̩͙*Christmas Photos⁺˚•̩̩͙*

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

for @seungmint

wc: ~500 (plus precious minnie photos)

rating: -`♡´- FLUFF -`♡´-

༝﹡˖˟･･༶

There's a soft knock at the door. If you didn't have the tv up so loud, you would have heard it easily, and you would have recognized it immediately. But you're alone tonight, and you're expecting to stay that way. Eyes remain closed through the beep of the keypad.

You're sinking into the couch. The most recent Skz footage is playing on the tv. That's your date for the night.

Seungmin is so quiet when he wants to be. Light on his feet and sneaky. He tiptoes across the living room, avoiding the spots where he knows the floor will squeek—leans over the top of the couch, looks down at you, and smiles.

But he knows he'll scare the shit out of you if you open your eyes to a face, even his face, staring down, grinning stupidly. Now he has to figure out how to let you know he's here, so he pulls out his phone and starts to type.

wake up wake up ☃❆

Your phone buzzes in your hand. He hears it, and then he hears you stir and sit up.

"I'm up I'm up...what are you doing, pup?''

He listens and giggles silently as you hum along to your typing. But Seungmin knows he's failed as soon as his phone buzzes loudly. He looks up from his spot on the floor, greeted by your smiling face staring down at him.

"Nice try Min," you hop to your feet and get to him as quickly as possible, fall to the floor, arms tight around him. You kiss him all over his face, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I didn't want you to be alone."

"I didn't think you'd have time."

"I made time. And I have one more gift for you anyway," he points to the door where he left a big red and gold bag, "have you been out in the snow?"

You shake your head, "not since I got home last night, but there wasn't much on the ground yet."

"Okay, let's do that first!"

---

You follow him out to the empty street. There isn't very much snow, but enough to cover everything and make it feel a little more Christmasy. The best part is that there's nobody around, and it's perfectly quiet except for the crunch of the snow under your feet.

"Aren't you cold?" you pull out your phone and look at him through your camera. The streetlights don't make the best mood lighting, but Seungmin looks handsome no matter where he is.

'A little...are you going to take my picture?"

"Yeah, hold still. I mean, I know you can never hold still, but try for me."

Seungmin laughs and turns to face you.

You pull up your camera roll to check. "That's a cute one."

"Can I take yours, too?" He spins and lets his arms swing wildly around him.

"If you want to, sure."

"And we should take some together!"

"For real Minnie, hold still for one second."

"That's better. Very handsome...what a jawline."

He struggles to keep a straight face, but manages. "Okay, let me get serious."

"You look sad in that one, look up at me."

"Perfect. Miniverse worthy."

"Okay, my turn!"

#kim seungmin #skz seungmin #☾ blind date #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin fluff #skz fluff

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zepskies · 10 months

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If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks.

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her.

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you.

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think.

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him.

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps.

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling.

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again.

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.”

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch.

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore.

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel.

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car?

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

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intheticklecloset · 4 months

Text

Merry and Bright (My Hero Academia)

ShinDeku AU

Summary: Deku playfully tries to get Shinsou to tell him what he got him for Christmas, but Shinsou is determined not to break and decides to turn the tables.

A/N: ShinDeku!! I need I say more? These boys still have my heart, even if I don't write for MHA as often these days. I figured if I was going to share an MHA fic this year, a Christmasy one for Christmas Day would be perfect! This is #4 of 4. Enjoy, and Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays! ^^

Word Count: 1,687

~~~

“Plehehehehease, Izuku!” Shinsou giggled, squirming in his more-than-a-friend, not-quite-a-boyfriend’s hold. He tried to cover up his sensitive sides but failed miserably. “I cahahahahahan’t tell you!”

“Can’t?” Deku challenged playfully, hugging him closer, curling his fingers in with devious purpose. “Or won’t?”

The day had started out fairly normally, all things considered. It was winter break now, and Shinsou was spending the day with Deku (and later with Deku’s mom as well, though she was at work right now, thank god) setting up the tree and generally decorating their apartment for Christmas. Once the tree was up and the lights had been turned on, Shinsou made an offhanded comment about how he needed to remember to bring Deku’s gift over the next time to put underneath of it, which spurred an excited Izuku Midoriya to ask what it was, which led to Shinsou saying of course he couldn’t tell him, and now…

“Ehehehahahahaha! Stohohohohohop!” the purple-haired boy squealed, grasping Deku’s wrists, only half trying to pull him away. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give up the goods, but he couldn’t honestly say he hated when the other tickled him like this. Tickling was kind of the glue that had stuck them together, so to speak. He was sure he could never hate it now.

Deku giggled along with him. “Not until you tell me, Toshi~”

That was another thing. Toshi. Deku had begun calling him that somewhere along the line, and it made Shinsou’s heart do all kinds of crazy backflips and somersaults. He melted at the nickname, but that wasn’t going to make him give in now. He was determined not to let slip what he’d gotten the stubborn greenette for Christmas.

“I cahahahahan’t!” he cried, then amended, “I wohohohohon’t! You cahahahan’t mahahahake me!”

“Oh?” Deku’s voice took on a wicked tone, suddenly dragging Shinsou away from the tree and over to the couch. He shoved the taller boy down face-first into the cushions, fingers digging wildly into his ribs and sides, making him howl. “I bet I can~”

“Nohohohohoooo!” Shinsou cackled, trying frantically to reach behind him and push Deku away, but when that failed and only opened the door for the smaller boy to dig into his underarms, he shrieked into the cushions and clutched onto them for dear life, using them as a lifeline to ground himself on as he laughed out his helplessness. “This isn’t fahahahahahahair! I cahahahahan’t tell you – it defeheheheats the puhuhuhuhurpose! Izuku!”

Deku just smiled and kept tickling him. Truthfully, he wasn’t actually trying to get his almost-boyfriend to confess anything. He just loved tickling him, loved hearing his laugh, watching the way it made his cheeks turn pink and cause that stoic demeanor to actually break into a grin for once. It was even better when he got panicky, though – that’s when Shinsou got almost unbearably cute. His heart raced at the mere thought of it.

“Looks like I’ll have to really tickle you, then…”

But instead of sliding down to Shinsou’s hips like he intended, Deku’s tickling ministrations slowly came to a stop.

Shinsou gasped for breath, still giggling, shooting him an apologetic look. “S-Sorry, Izuku. You left me no choice. Can you get off me, please?”

Deku silently did as he was told, standing obediently beside the couch as Shinsou sat up. He felt bad resorting to using his quirk, but this was another thing they’d talked about in their few months of being kind of together. Deku told him it was all right for him to use his quirk as long as he meant no harm, and when tickling each other, as long as the greenette hadn’t explicitly stated beforehand that no quirks were allowed.

In other words, since Deku hadn’t started off this tickle attack with the words, “no quirks,” it was fair play for Shinsou to turn the tables on him this way.

“Lay down on your stomach for me, would you, cutie pie?” Shinsou said softly, blushing at his own cutesy pet name, standing to the side as Deku did as he was told. Once he was exactly the way the violet-haired boy had been moments before, Shinsou gently climbed on top of him and placed his fingers just below his ribs, then released him from his mind-controlling hold.

Deku blinked, then gasped, knowing exactly what had happened since it had happened more than once before. “Ah! I forgot to say something!”

“Yes, you did,” Shinsou said in a low, teasing voice. He smiled at the way it made Deku shudder. “So…you think you can just tickle me into telling you what your Christmas present is, huh?”

“N-No?” Deku tried, bursting into giggles the instant a tiny bit of pressure was applied to his ribs. “Ehehehehehe! I dihihihihidn’t mehehehehean it! I was just hahahaving fun!”

“I’m sure you were. Now it’s my turn.” Shinsou slowly traced his bottom ribs, then moved up to the next set, then the next, all at an agonizingly slow pace. He smirked at Deku’s quiet snickers and impatient wiggling. “Let’s see. Which spot will make you give up this silly game of trying to get me to spoil your surprise?”

Deku whimpered. “Nohohohone of them! I’ll mahahahake you tehehehell me eventually!”

Shinsou beamed. This was one of Deku’s favorite things – pretending to be all high and mighty and in charge when he was clearly in no position to be smart-mouthing his way through anything, all in the hopes that his partner would completely wreck him into next week in retaliation.

And Shinsou would. But only after he made him beg for it.

“You’ll do no such thing. I’m the one in charge now, Izuku.” Shinsou dove his fingers under his arms and made him shriek in anticipation without actually beginning to tickle yet. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”

“I’ll gehehet out of this,” Deku challenged, shivering at the feeling of fingers in his armpits, even if they weren’t moving yet. “Y-Yohohou’ll spill eheheheverything, Toshi!”

“‘Toshi’? Oh, no, no, no. You don’t get to nickname me right now.” Shinsou dug in once, quick and hard, just to get his point across. “Give up. I’m not ruining Christmas for you, no matter how much of a Grinch I might seem.”

Deku twisted his head around to look up at him as much as possible, a slight frown on his features. “I don’t think you’re a Grinch, To-ahhh, Sh-Shinsou.”

Shinsou’s heart warmed at the sentiment. He chuckled. “Thanks. And I know. I’m just playing around. You know that, right?"

“Right,” the smaller boy affirmed, smiling again, wiggling nervously. “Well, are you going to do something, or are you going to just sit there and tease me all day?”

There it was. The first sign that his defiance was cracking. His first indication of how much he wanted to just be tickled already. Shinsou smirked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just like watching you fidget.”

“I’m not a fidget toy!”

The taller boy laughed outright at that. “Oh, I think you are.” He wiggled his fingers gently into his armpits. “See? You’re fidgeting all over the place.”

“Ehehehehe! Nohohoho fair! You’re tihihihihickling me!”

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

For almost two full minutes, Shinsou continued to gently poke and prod at random spots up and down Deku’s torso, from his underarms to his ribs and sides and even a little bit along his neck, which he’d learned was adorably ticklish as well. The greenette clenched his fists and giggled and squirmed but ultimately held out for an impressive amount of time before finally beginning to crack again.

“Tohohoshiiii,” he whined at last. “Whahahat are you wahahahaiting for?”

Victory was near. Shinsou smiled. “For you to give up.”

“But you’re nohohohot tickling me hahahard enough for that!”

“Oh, no, cutie. I think you misunderstand. I’m not going to tickle you into giving up your silly little quest for an early Christmas surprise.” Here Shinsou leaned down and spoke directly into Deku’s ear while wiggling a single finger into either side of his ribs, keeping him in soft giggles. “I’m only going to tickle you after you give up. It’s your reward, you see.”

“Reheheheheward?”

“Of course. You want me to tickle you, don’t you? Tickle you so much you can’t even remember what we’re doing here?”

Deku’s cheeks lit up bright red, and the sight made Shinsou melt a little. He really was the cutest thing in the world.

“Well? Don’t you?”

“Y-Yehehehehes,” Deku admitted through a little whine. “Plehehehehease, Toshi.”

Shinsou stopped his gentle tickling, further making his point. “Then you’d better promise you won’t try to tickle any spoilers out of me. That’s the only way you’ll get what you want.”

Apparently Deku’s determination to keep up the “tell me what my gift is” play didn’t outweigh his desire to get wrecked, because upon hearing those words he caved instantly.

“Okay, fine, I promise I won’t try to get you to tell me what you got me for Christmas. I won’t tickle any gift spoilers out of you. Just, please…” He looked up at Shinsou again with the best puppy dog eyes he had and begged, “Please, tickle me like you mean it. I really want to laugh.”

Shinsou had to admit, it was a fatal blow to his own determination. He smiled, kissed his cheek – something they’d only done a couple of times and only very recently – and murmured, “Good. I’ll tickle you to death now.”

Without wasting any time, the taller boy hooked his fingers into Deku’s hips and dug in, barely able to keep his straddling position at the sudden, wild reaction from his kind-of-boyfriend.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!! TOHOHOHOHOSHI WAHAHAHAHAIT THAT’S NOT FAHAHAHAHAIR EITHEHEHEHEHER!! NOT MY HIHIHIHIHIHIHIPS!!”

“Well, you said you really wanted to laugh!” Shinsou giggled along with him, fighting to keep his fingers in the right spot to drive him crazy. “I’m just granting your Christmas wish, Izuku~”

The both of them wound up tickling and playing together for so long that they completely lost track of time, but really, who needed Christmas decorations when there was such bright, merry laughter to be heard?

#fanfiction #tickle fic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #izuku midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #deku #shindeku #christmas fic #holiday fic #playful #fluff #boyfriends #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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