#some time ago I found two empty honey glasses

[bradshawsbaby]

What Christmas Means to Me, My Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: You're determined to make your first married Christmas the best one yet. But when you start to overextend yourself, Bob steps in to remind you what's most important.

Word Count: 10.6k

Author's Note: Whew! The relief I feel that I was able to get this story completed before Christmas Eve! This is my contribution to @lewmagoo's A Lew Magoo Christmas challenge! It was inspired by the Stevie Wonder song, "What Christmas Means To Me." I hope you all enjoy!

(Special shoutout and thanks to @luminousnotmatter and @ryebecca for listening to me ramble when I was having a total meltdown about writing this story. I'm very thankful for you both!)

Warnings: References to being stressed during the holidays and a few brief innuendos, but it's mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

From the time he was a young boy, Bob Floyd had been cognizant of one very fascinating phenomenon—his bed never felt so comfortable or so warm as when his alarm clock was blaring in his ear, giving him a rather forceful reminder that it was time to get up and start the day. After he met you, that troubling phenomenon seemed to increase tenfold. As responsible as he was and as much as he prided himself on getting to work early each day, Bob would be lying if he said there weren’t times when he felt like chucking his alarm clock across the room and playing sick just so he could stay tucked away in bed all day, cocooned under the blankets and wrapped around your sweet warmth.

This morning, as his alarm started roaring at 7:00 on the dot, Bob let out a small grunt of protest, blindly reaching out from beneath the comforter to pound a resentful fist on the top of his alarm clock. Once it was silent, he rolled over in the bed the two of you had been sharing as husband and wife for nearly six months now and reached an arm out, fully expecting to wrap it around your soft, pajama-clad body. When he was met with emptiness instead, Bob blinked his eyes open in confusion and sat up slowly, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his vision as he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and slipped them onto his nose, albeit a bit crookedly.

“Sweetheart?” Bob called out, frowning when he was met with nothing but the early morning stillness of your quaint little home.

Immediately, he flung the covers back and climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom to see if maybe you were in the shower and couldn’t hear him calling you over the sound of the running water. That theory was quickly disproven, however, when he found the bathroom door hanging open, lights off and no sounds of a shower in progress. But as he flicked on the lights, Bob discovered that you must have been in there not too long ago, for the mirror above the sink was still beaded with condensation and the bathmat had the imprint of damp footprints.

“Honey?” Bob called again, thinking maybe you’d stepped outside to enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch. Although why you’d be up this early—and showered already, too—on one of your days off from work was beyond him.

Walking into the kitchen, Bob immediately spotted a piece of festive note paper resting on the countertop. He recognized it instantly, the cream colored paper outlined with a ring of cheerful poinsettias. You’d been ecstatic when you’d found it at the dollar store a few weeks ago—"You never know when something like this will come in handy during the holidays, honey," were your exact words. But what stood out even more was your delicate handwriting etched across the paper in dark ink. Picking up the note, Bob adjusted his glasses and read the message you’d quickly penned on your way out the door.

Good morning, honey! I decided to head out early to try to hit some of the stores before they get too crazy. There’s a lot that I still need to pick up, so I’ll probably be gone most of the day. Also, Lorraine and I are going to run over to check out the venue for our staff holiday party and finalize the menu. Speaking of which, I also need to finalize the menu for OUR party, plus Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Text me if there’s anything you want me to get! Hopefully I won’t be home too late. I love you!!!

P.S. I almost forgot—I packed some lunch for you and left it in the fridge! And there’s a pot of coffee ready to brew. Have a great day!!!

He sighed softly as he set your note back down on the counter, running a hand through his honey brown hair, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he silently lamented your early departure. He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words, chuckling to himself as he pictured you quickly gulping down a cup of coffee—in your favorite Christmas mug, no doubt—and shoving a piece of half-burnt toast in your mouth before running out the door.

You absolutely lived for this time of year, and all the hecticness that the season entailed.

Bob had known, almost from the very start of your relationship, how much you adored Christmas. It was one of the things, in fact, that had made it so easy for him to fall in love with you. Seeing the way you lit up like a firefly when a Christmas song came on the radio or when your favorite coffee shop started offering peppermint-flavored drinks made Bob’s heart melt in absolute love and devotion. He had never known anyone as whimsical or as full of genuine Christmas spirit as you. And your joy was infectious—Bob had never loved the holiday season so much as he did once he started celebrating it with you.

Waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, Bob couldn’t help but grin as he glanced around the kitchen at all the decorations you’d been putting up since Thanksgiving. They gave your home a warm, cozy feeling that had nothing to do with aesthetics and everything to do with the loving care with which you’d hung them.

To Bob, every day was Christmas so long as he got to spend it with you.

Which was why he sighed again as he poured a splash of cream into his coffee mug, brows furrowing above his glasses as he considered how little he’d seen you these past couple weeks.

With both of you working full-time jobs, it made sense that you couldn’t possibly spend every waking moment together. But Bob looked forward more than anything to your routine of dinner in the early evening and then hours spent lounging in each other’s arms, talking about your days or listening to music or watching a movie together. It was a habit you had gotten into even before you were married, and it was made all the sweeter by the fact that your lives were now entwined so intrinsically.

These past few weeks, however, that routine had been seriously upended by all the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Bob knew you took this time of year seriously—and he really did love how happy it made you—but it seemed like this year more than ever, your schedule was jam-packed and filled nearly to bursting.

On top of the usual shopping that needed to get done—you bought gifts for everyone, even down to your mail carrier and the barista who made your favorite coffee—there were preparations for not one, not two, but three separate parties you had volunteered to host. First up was your staff holiday party. Your colleagues knew that no one loved Christmas more than you, and so they had unanimously nominated you to spearhead the planning, which you’d graciously agreed to, with some help from your co-worker, Lorraine. Then was the party for the Daggers and their families that you had convinced Bob it would be fun to host a few days before Christmas Eve. All of your friends couldn’t stop buzzing about it, and you were going to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. As if all that wasn’t enough, you were also going to be hosting both of your families for the holidays this year, parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, and all.

“It’s our first Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Floyd,” you’d told him one night, when he’d asked if you were really okay with all of the planning that would be involved. “I want it to be special.” Your smile when you said it warmed him from the inside out. As introverted as he could be, he’d gladly host twenty parties so long as it made you happy.

The reality, however, was that you were swamped. Every day after work, you were either running around to stores or scouring the internet for the best cyber deals or researching recipes that you wanted to try for Christmas dinner. One night, Bob had even found you making an alphabetized list of holiday games you could play at the parties.

“Are you sure you’re really okay?” Bob asked at one point, when he caught you yawning over your dinner. “I know I’ve been busy with work, but I can help more. Just tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, silly,” you giggled, waving off his concern with a hand. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

“They will,” he told you, resting his large, calloused hand over yours. He looked intently into your eyes, sincerity shining in the blue depths of his. “They’ll have a good time no matter what. You don’t have to make yourself sick over planning.”

You had just smiled at him and given him a kiss, but clearly you hadn’t heeded his words because now you were even using your day off to run errands, waking up even earlier than your naval aviator husband to do so.

Rinsing his empty mug out in the sink, Bob frowned as he thought of how tired you’d seemed these past few days. Your joy and your sweetness never diminished, but he could tell just from looking in your eyes how exhausted you were getting. You were overextending yourself, and he was terrified you were going to burn out before Christmas even arrived. Not being able to fully enjoy your favorite time of year would devastate you, and nothing would hurt Bob more than that.

You needed to take a day for yourself, Bob decided as he let the warm water flow over him in a quick shower. No shopping, no planning, no organizing—just a day where you actually got to enjoy all your favorite things about this season.

That idea remained buzzing around in his head as he drove to work, hanging on the periphery of his consciousness even as he spent hours flying test runs with Phoenix and the rest of the Daggers. On his lunch break, he enthusiastically hunkered down in the rec room to research some of the plans that were percolating in his mind. And by the time he drove home that evening, he was wearing a smile bright enough to rival any of the Christmas lights twinkling in your neighborhood.

The fact that you still weren’t home when Bob unlocked the front door and carefully placed his work boots on the shoe rack only further solidified his plan. As if you could somehow read his mind, his phone buzzed suddenly with an incoming text.

Are you home? I’m so sorry I’m not back yet! I’m on my way now. I picked up some dinner from that BBQ place that you like 😋

Bob’s heart squeezed with affection as he read your words. You’d been up for nearly twelve hours at this point, and you were no doubt exhausted, but you were still always putting others ahead of yourself. He typed out a quick response as he walked into the living room to turn on the lights on the Christmas tree.

Yum! Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for you to get home ♥️

About twenty minutes later, just as Bob was stepping out of your bedroom after changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt from his time at the Naval Academy, he heard your key jiggling in the lock and hurried to meet you.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise when your husband swung open the door before you could finish turning your key. “Hiya, honey,” you beamed, holding up the bag of take-out food you’d picked up especially for him on your drive home.

“Man, I tell you, these delivery people keep getting cuter and cuter,” Bob teased, drawing you close and taking the food out of your hands as he dropped a kiss on your lips.

“Mmm,” you giggled against his mouth, kissing him back as you felt some of the tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders slowly dissipate. “Maybe this delivery girl can join you for dinner tonight,” you winked playfully, smiling when you felt Bob’s fingers lace through yours.

“I was counting on it,” he chuckled, tugging on your hand as he turned into the house.

“Oh, just give me a couple minutes, honey,” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering you’d left your car idling in the driveway, the backseat and trunk filled to the brim with your purchases of the day. “I just want to get everything out of the car.”

“Sweetheart, it can wait,” Bob insisted, glancing longingly between you and his dinner. “Your food’s going to get cold. I’ll help you unload the car after we eat.”

You bit your lip in hesitation, but finally relented when you saw the puppy dog expression on your husband’s face. “Okay, fine, let me just go turn the car off.”

A few minutes later, you and Bob were seated side by side at your small kitchen table, your legs pressing together and your fingers brushing against one another as you nibbled on wings and scarfed down some chili mac and cheese.

“How was your day?” you asked curiously, glancing up as you took a sip of water and wiped your fingers on a napkin.

You always asked that question so sincerely, even after all this time. It made him feel so seen and loved. Smiling, he rested his hand over yours and squeezed your fingers gently.

“It was good,” he said lightly, not yet ready to divulge the plans he’d been formulating all day. “You know, same old, same old. How about yours?”

“It was great!” you chirped, beaming brightly.

Bob smiled and nodded as you told him about the gifts you’d picked up for all the nieces and nephews, the menu you and Lorraine had decided on for your staff holiday party, the grab bags gifts you’d snagged for the Dagger party, the new gingerbread recipe you’d just heard about, and a whole host of other things.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you murmured sheepishly after you realized you’d hardly stopped for a moment to take a breath.

“It’s okay, I love it when you ramble,” Bob grinned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Mmm, I love it even more when you taste like barbeque,” he laughed, nudging your nose with his own.

Laughing, you wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back, you rested your forehead against his with a contented sigh and gazed into his eyes. “Want to go find a movie to watch while I do the dishes?” you suggested.

Bob pulled back slightly to more fully look at you, though he kept his large hands wrapped loosely around your waist. “As much as I love the sound of that plan, I think we should call it an early night tonight, honey,” he said softly, reaching up to lightly brush your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You look exhausted.”

You pouted slightly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that suddenly came upon you, which made the both of you laugh. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted ruefully, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment.

“How about you get started on the dishes and I’ll unload everything from the car? Then we’ll head to bed, alright?” Bob asked, hyper aware of the drawn look around your eyes.

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him one more kiss as you jumped up to clear the table.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were cuddled up under the covers, the warm glow from the little battery-operated lantern you kept near the window casting a cozy feel over the room.

“Do you have any plans for Saturday?” Bob asked softly, running his fingers up and down your arm gently as you lay in his embrace. Saturday was the one day that the both of you had off, and he intended to make the most of it this weekend.

You let out a soft sigh, snuggling up further against his chest. “There are a few new recipes I wanted to try for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas, so I figured maybe I should test them out ahead of time, just in case they end up being a disaster. Saturday seems as good a day as any to do that. Want to be my taste tester?” you grinned, eyes crinkling as you smiled over at him.

“Uh-uh,” Bob shook his head, a slightly mischievous smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him. “Why not? You’ve got other plans?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, his blue eyes twinkling, which you could see even in the dark of your bedroom. “I’m going to have a very full day.”

“Doing what?” you huffed jokingly, arching an eyebrow as you rolled onto your side, gazing at him curiously.

“You’ll find out,” Bob grinned, not letting the cat out of the bag just yet. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” you asked, clearly taken aback as your eyes widened once again. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, leaning over to give you a quick kiss.

“Bob!” you exclaimed, nudging him lightly with your foot.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he grinned, rolling over and closing his eyes. He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as he heard you huffing softly beside him, clearly desperate to know what he was planning. Within minutes, however, he heard the sound of your breathing soften and deepen, your eyes closing in a deep slumber.

Turning back over, Bob watched you sleep peacefully and felt his heart clench inside his chest. You were going above and beyond this Christmas, and it was clearly taking its toll, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He was glad to see you sleeping so comfortably after such a long day.

You were striving so hard to make this Christmas magical for everyone else. This weekend, Bob was going to make it magical for you and remind you what this season was really all about.

Nobody deserved it more than you.

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp, just as Bob had been anticipating. He’d been checking the forecast every day to make sure that nothing was going to interfere with his plans for today. The weather was better than he could have hoped for—the sun was shining bright, hardly a cloud in the sky, but the air had a nice winter chill as the temperature hovered somewhere between the high fifties and low sixties.

That was one of the only things you ever lamented about moving to San Diego—it was harder to make it feel like Christmas when it was still warm enough to wear shorts and go to the beach. But today’s weather, while certainly not cold by any stretch of the imagination, would at least give you an opportunity to wear one of those new sweaters you’d bought for yourself.

Grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning, Bob quietly tiptoed into your bedroom, where he was delighted to see that you were still fast asleep, buried so deeply under the covers that only the top of your head was poking out. Swallowing back a laugh, he sidled over to your side of the bed and carefully placed the treats he’d set out early to procure on your nightstand.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of the bed to avoid crushing you. You stirred slightly, but didn’t open your eyes, so he bent down to drop a kiss on the crown of your head, still the only part of your body exposed to the mid-morning light. “Honey, wake up,” he tried again, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Letting out a soft hum in response, you slowly pushed the covers back and ran a hand down your face before opening your eyes halfway, peeking up at your husband through hooded lids.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Bob chuckled, ducking his head to peck your lips tenderly.

“Mmm, good morning,” you replied, your voice still heavy with sleep as you stretched with a satisfied little groan. You were so distracted by the extremely pleasant view of your handsome husband hovering above you that it took you a moment to realize how much light was filtering in through the windows, and to catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. Gasping, you bolted upright, looking at Bob with wide eyes. “Is that really the time? I thought I set an alarm!”

It was nearly 9:45am. You couldn’t remember the last time you had slept in that late. Between work and all the other things you were usually running around doing, even on your days off, your internal alarm hardly ever let you sleep that long. Not to mention the fact that you normally had an alarm set. You could have sworn you had set it last night.

Bob had the grace to look a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at you with those big blue eyes behind the frames of his adorably gawky glasses. “You did,” he began slowly, glancing guiltily at your alarm clock and then back at you. “I shut it off.”

“Bob!” you exclaimed in astonishment, uncertain what would have possessed him to do that, especially when he knew how busy you were lately. “Why would you do that?”

“You needed the extra sleep, honey,” he said in a voice so sweet and filled with concern that you couldn’t even dream of staying mad at him. Reaching out, he took one of your hands between both of his, gently rolling the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past couple weeks. I wanted you to get some real rest.”

You bit your lip, averting your gaze as you silently thought about how busy you’d been lately and how exhausted you’d been feeling. You’d had three cups of coffee at work yesterday just to make it through the day.

“I guess you’re right,” you conceded, your lips curving upward in a rueful smile. “I do feel a little bit better already. Thank you, honey,” you told him, leaning forward to give him a kiss of appreciation. That was when your eyes landed on the cup of coffee and the small red-and-white striped bag on your nightstand. “Is that for me?” you gasped in delight, looking back at your husband eagerly.

“Mhm,” Bob chuckled at your open excitement, reaching for the cup and the bag and placing them in your hands.

Your very favorite coffee shop in all of San Diego, which also happened to be the spot where you and Bob went on your second date, was a tiny little hole-in-the-wall place not far from where you worked. From the outside, it didn’t seem like much to behold, but it was one of the city’s best kept secrets. Their coffee was brewed to perfection and their baked goods were a sweettooth’s dream. But what you loved most of all was the way they went all out for the holidays. The entire cafe was decked out in garland and bows and twinkling lights, Christmas music pumped through the speakers all day long, and their menu reflected everyone’s seasonal favorites.

At this time of year, your go-to order was a large peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and a gingerbread scone that you swore you wanted to be your last meal on this earth. Bob had gotten to the cafe just in time that morning to get a scone fresh out of the oven.

“Oh my gosh, it’s still warm,” you sighed happily, the spiced molasses melting on your tongue as soon as you popped it into your mouth. You closed your eyes in bliss, washing it down with a sip of the peppermint mocha. “Thank you, honey. This is such a sweet surprise.”

“The first of many, I hope,” Bob smiled, resting a hand on your thigh as you enjoyed your breakfast in bed. “I have lots planned for you today, Mrs. Floyd.”

“You do?” you asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of your coffee cup.

He nodded, his smile only growing wider. “Don’t you remember what I said the other night? We’ve got a lot to do today. So as soon as you’re done enjoying your breakfast, you better hop in the shower. We don’t want to be late,” he told you, his gorgeous baby blues sparkling as he rose from the bed and started towards the door.

“Wait!” you cried,  jumping out of bed with your coffee and scone still firmly in hand. “What are we doing?” you called after him, chasing behind him in bare feet. “Bobby!”

“You’ll find out,” he laughed, turning around and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Just wear something comfortable,” was all the information he gave you.

You sighed in a purposely dramatic fashion, shooting him a playful glance. You knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t going to tell you anything else, so there was no use in trying to get the information out of him. Instead, you quickly gulped down the rest of your coffee and finished off your scone—still trying to savor every bite—before tearing off your pajamas and jumping into the shower.

An hour later, you were ready to go, dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a new red and white sweater you’d just recently purchased. The weather today finally gave you an opportunity to wear it.

“Is this alright?” you asked Bob as you stepped into the living room, holding your arms out at your sides. It was hard to know what to wear when you had no idea what you were doing.

“It’s perfect,” Bob nodded, smiling as he rose from the couch and took in your appearance. “Just like you,” he added, winking as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you giggled, resting your hands on his broad chest. He was wearing a dark green crew neck sweater and dark jeans that fit his long figure exquisitely. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bob just shook his head, laughing out loud when you released a groan of exasperation. “Patience, my sweet wife,” he teased, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the front door. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

You really hadn’t been sure what to anticipate when you climbed into the car with Bob. As many guesses as you tried to make to figure out what his plans were, your husband’s expression was impenetrable. He didn’t give anything away, no matter what you said.

What you hadn’t been expecting was to pull into the parking lot of Petco Park.

As soon as Bob put the car in park, you glanced over at him curiously, trying to figure out what you were doing here. Your husband wasn’t a big baseball fan. And even if he was, it was the middle of December.

“I’m guessing we’re not here for a Padres game?” you ventured with a playful smile, glancing around the crowded parking lot.

Your husband laughed, shaking his head. “Not exactly. Come on,” he told you, climbing out of the car and hurrying around to the passenger side to open your door.

Slipping your hand into his, you followed his lead as he guided you through the milling crowd towards the entrance to the baseball stadium. He seemed almost giddy as the two of you got closer and closer to the park, glancing down at you every few seconds as if to check that you were still with him. You had no idea what was awaiting you, but his excitement was infectious and you found yourself buzzing with anticipation.

You weren’t disappointed.

As soon as Bob handed over your tickets to the attendant, you were swept up in the crowd of people surging towards Gallagher Square, where you were met with a breathtaking display of Christmas beauty.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, coming to a halt as you stared, wide-eyed and in awe of the beautiful market that surrounded you.

“Do you like it?” Bob asked, a thread of nervousness in his voice as he looked at you, watching the way you were silently taking everything in.

Turning to face him, your face split into a huge grin and you threw your arms around him, peppering his cheek with kisses. “I love it! It’s so wonderful!”

It was as close to a German Christmas market as you had ever come, with vendors of all kinds set up in little wooden booths ringing the perimeter of the square. There were shopkeepers selling a whole assortment of things, from hot chocolate and gingerbread cookies to homemade candy to personalized ornaments to fine wine and jewelry. Amidst all the different stalls were small stages where performances ranging from choirs to magic shows were taking place, not to mention the life-size snow globes and the giant sleigh where guests could take pictures. And at the center of it all was a ginormous Christmas tree that had to be at least thirty feet tall.

It was magical. It made you feel like you were a little girl again, attending your town’s local Christmas fair with your family.

“I didn’t even know this existed!” you exclaimed, still holding tightly to your husband as you continued to gaze around you.

“I didn’t either,” Bob admitted, unable to stop smiling at how happy you looked. “But Phoenix and Hangman told me they took the kids here last week and had a blast, so I knew I had to get you tickets.”

“Oh, thank you, honey! This is amazing!” you beamed, wrapping your arms around him to give him an enthusiastic kiss.

Bob chuckled and blushed slightly as he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his other hand resting on your hip. “Should we walk around?”

Nodding, you took his hand and practically hauled him across the square, bouncing from stall to stall and oohing and aahing over all the various trinkets and baubles.

“Oh, honey, look! We should get this,” you cooed, holding up a sweet ornament of a hand painted Christmas tree with a little banner draped across it that read Our First Christmas as Mr. and Mrs.

It didn’t matter that you had three other ornaments with similar messages already hanging on your Christmas tree at home. Bob gladly pulled out his wallet to buy it for you, his heart fluttering at the gorgeous smile that lit up your entire face when the vendor carefully wrapped it up and handed it to you.

“Thank you, Bobby. I can’t wait to put it on the tree when we get home,” you told him, carefully slipping the wrapped ornament into your purse.

“Anything for you, honey,” Bob murmured softly, kissing your forehead. “Alright, what’s our next stop?”

You and Bob continued to wander among the stalls for the next couple hours, stopping on occasion to take a photo or grab a snack—"This is sustenance," you grinned, holding up the little brown bag of freshly glazed almonds that you’d purchased for the two of you to munch on.

At one point, as you were admiring the work of a local artist, you heard the sound of the sweetest voices imaginable. Following the music, with Bob trailing closely behind, you walked a bit further up the path before stopping in front of a small choir made up of the most angelic looking children you had ever seen. The sign in front of the platform declared that they were students from a local school for children with special needs.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, tears sparkling on your lashes as they sang the most beautiful version of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” you had ever heard. Resting your head on your husband’s shoulder, you let the music wash over you, smiling brightly as they transitioned from one song to another.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there exactly—was it for three songs or six?—but when the children finally stopped singing, you and Bob burst into thunderous applause, prompting nearby onlookers to join in.

The pride on the children’s faces melted your heart as they shyly waved to the crowd and began making their way off the platform.

A little girl with Down syndrome, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, suddenly broke away from the others and grabbed her mother’s hand, dragging her towards where you and your husband stood.

“Thank you for coming!” she said brightly, offering an adorable little gap-tooth smile.

“Thank you for having us!” you replied brightly, squatting down so that you were on eye level with her. “You all sounded amazing!”

To your surprise, the little girl lunged forward to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” her mother exclaimed, touching her daughter’s shoulder and trying to pull her back.

“It’s alright,” you smiled, patting the little girl’s back before she let go. ���No need to apologize.”

“Thank you for staying to listen for so long,” the woman said, looking between you and Bob. “The kids worked really hard on their program for today, so it was nice to have such a captive audience.”

“We were happy to do it, really,” Bob told her, smiling down at the little girl as he rested a hand on your lower back. “Christmas music is my wife’s favorite,” he told her conspiratorially.

Her eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Mine, too!”

You all laughed happily at that.

“Well, I hope you have an amazing Christmas and that Santa brings you everything you’re hoping for this year,” you told her, grinning at the way she lit up at the mention of Santa.

“Santa! Santa!” she cheered.

“That’s right,” her mother nodded, brushing her daughter’s hair back over her shoulder. “We should get going soon if we want to go see Santa. What do you say to the nice people who watched you sing?”

“Thank you!” the little girl said sweetly, giving both you and Bob another quick hug around the legs. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” you and Bob replied in unison, waving to both mother and daughter as you went your separate ways, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re going to make an amazing mother one day,” Bob told you softly, the unadulterated adoration in his eyes warming you up from the inside out.

You just smiled dreamily in response, very much looking forward to the day when you would get to see Bob Floyd become a father.

“Well I think that was a very successful trip to the Christmas Market,” your husband said a few minutes later after you circled back to the center of the square.

“I had so much fun, honey. Thank you for thinking of this,” you told him, touched by the effort he’d made to bring you here and make it such a lovely afternoon.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bob smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “Oh, but we better get going if we want to stay on schedule. Still have a lot to do.”

“Wait…what?” you questioned, startled. “There’s more?”

“I said I had a lot planned, didn’t I?” That mischievous twinkle had returned to his eyes. “You didn’t think this was it, did you?”

“Bob Floyd, what do you have up your sleeve?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up at him with a quirked brow, trying and failing to mask the smile tugging at your lips.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, taking your hand and leading you back to the car.

If you had been uncertain about what your husband’s plans were when you’d arrived at Petco Park, you were doubly unsure what he had in mind when he turned onto the bridge connecting San Diego to Coronado.

“Are you taking me with you to work?” you wondered with a laugh, looking out the window at the afternoon sun sparkling on the San Diego Bay. You often told Bob that you were jealous of the view he got to enjoy on his commute to and from North Island.

Bob laughed at your question, but simply shook his head in response, turning up the radio as Mariah Carey began belting “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

“Hmmm, saved by the Queen of Christmas,” you joked, nudging him playfully as he took a turn off the bridge.

“Now, honey, you know that you’re the Queen of Christmas,” Bob retorted, winking at you as he made a few more turns.

“True,” you giggled, singing along to the radio until Hotel Coronado appeared in your sights, in all its glorious grandeur. You glanced over at Bob curiously, but he didn’t say anything as he searched for a parking spot.

“The suspense is killing me, Bobby,” you lamented, clinging onto his arm once he finally did manage to park the car. “What are we doing now?”

Turning to face you, Bob was struck once again by just how deeply he loved you. There was no one else he’d drag himself all over San Diego for on his day off from work.

“We’re going ice skating,” he explained, chuckling at the shocked expression on your face.

“You mean…Skating by the Sea?!” you gasped excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in your seat. “Bobby, you got tickets?”

“Sure did,” he nodded, pulling them out of his pocket to show you.

“Oh my gosh, how?” you breathed, reaching out to touch them as if you were afraid they would disappear.

“Mav knows a guy,” Bob chuckled, shaking his head affectionately as he thought of his boss and mentor.

As Hotel Coronado’s most popular winter attraction, it was nearly impossible to get tickets to Skating by the Sea during the Christmas season, but when Bob had mentioned it at work, Maverick had promised that he would be able to procure him a couple tickets. How he managed it, Bob didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know either. All that mattered was that you were looking at him right now like he had hung the moon and the stars, and there was no better reward than that.

“Ready to go?” Bob asked, holding out his hand to you.

“Ready!” you cheered, placing your hand in his and holding on tight.

It had been quite some time since you had actually been ice skating, and you were a bit rusty, especially in comparison to your midwestern husband, who had grown up ice skating on frozen ponds every winter. Still, despite your wobbly knees, you were determined to enjoy every moment of this experience.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Bob murmured encouragingly, holding tightly to your hands as he guided you onto the ice, sticking close to the wall in case you needed extra support.

“If you had told me we were coming, I could have brushed up on my skills ahead of time,” you teased, glancing down at your white rental skates as you carefully slid one foot in front of the other.

“And ruin the surprise and the look on your face when I told you what we were doing? Never,” he grinned, gently squeezing your hands as you slowly started to become more confident and steady on your feet. “You’ve got it, honey. Try looking up at me. I won’t let go,” he promised.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze from your feet up to your husband’s midsection, and then finally up to his face, that face that you adored more than anything else on this earth.

“There you go, you’ve got it. You’re doing such a good job,” Bob praised you, his confidence unshaken as he moved backwards across the ice. It was incredibly attractive how sure of himself he was out here.

“I think I’ve got it now. Want to try letting go?” you asked with a grin, feeling a little nervous but willing to give it a shot.

Smiling proudly, Bob nodded and slowly released his grip on your hands, letting you glide independently for a few seconds. You moved forward tentatively, your hands still out at your sides so that you could grab onto him—or the wall—if needed.

“That’s it, honey! Look at you go!” your husband cheered, making you laugh as you carefully made your way over to the opposite wall, which afforded you breathtaking views of the beach and the ocean beyond.

Seconds later, Bob skated up beside you, resting with you against the wall and enjoying the same view. “Pretty beautiful, huh?” he asked, gazing down at you.

“Insanely beautiful,” you agreed, resting your hand over his and squeezing gently. “I’m so glad we’re here.”

“Me, too,” Bob nodded, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “But it doesn’t matter what we’re doing. I’m just so glad to be with you.”

“Honey,” you breathed out, touched by the sweetness of his words. They actually made you well up a little bit.

“I mean it, sweetheart. It’s not the things we do that make days like this special. It’s getting to do them with you. That’s all I really wanted. I’ve missed you these past few weeks,” he confessed.

“Oh, Bobby,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Bob was quiet for a moment, just holding you close and resting his cheek atop your head.

“I love you so much, you know,” you told him, lifting your head to press a kiss to his jaw.

“I know,” he nodded, his mouth turning up in a tender smile. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, you took his hand and started to push away from the wall. “Come on, let’s go show everybody what an amazing skater you are,” you laughed, nearly toppling over in your eagerness. Thankfully, Bob had some of the quickest reflexes you’d ever seen and was there to catch you.

He was always there to catch you.

You and your husband spent the next hour twirling around on the ice, you trying your best not to fall and Bob trying his best to keep you from falling. By the time your legs were starting to ache in protest, the sun was just beginning to set over the beach, the sky exploding in hues of orange, pink, and red.

“Isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen?” you whispered in awe, resting your cheek against your husband’s strong chest and soaking in the moment.

“A close second to you,” Bob replied, chuckling at the adorable way you got all flustered at his compliment. “C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get those skates off you.”

Stepping off the rink, Bob carefully guided you to a nearby bench and sat you down before squatting in front of you to untie your laces.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” you asked softly, reaching out to lightly caress his flushed cheek as he ministered to you.

“I ask myself the same thing every day when I get to wake up beside you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your knee before pulling your skates off. He then rose and plopped down beside you on the bench, pulling off his own skates with ease.

After you returned your rental skates and collected your things, Bob stopped you on the pathway near the beach and looked down at you.

“I hope you’ve worked up an appetite after all this,” he told you, a knowing smile on his face. “Because we’ve got one more stop.”

“We do? Oh, Bobby! This day has already been so special. I can’t imagine how it could get any better,” you declared, wondering what more he could possibly have in store.

“Wait and see,” Bob winked, taking your hand as you began strolling off hotel property and towards where you had parked “Oh, and I’ve got a little something in the car for you to change into.”

The last thing on earth you had been expecting when your husband handed you a small duffel bag out of the trunk of the car was to open it up and find the beautiful red dress you’d worn last Christmas—the one Bob hadn’t been able to stop gushing about or get you out of fast enough after Christmas dinner—and your favorite pair of high heels, plus the diamond studs and pendant he’d gifted you last year, the ones you only wore on very special occasions.

And yet, there you were, sitting beside your husband in the passenger seat of his car in your holiday finest, flying along the open road towards some unknown destination.

You weren’t the only one who had changed after your ice skating escapades. Bob had packed a second duffel, it seemed, for when you had returned from getting changed, he was waiting for you, no longer clad in his crew neck and jeans, but in a pair of black slacks and a dinner jacket, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar.

“For you,” he said with a wide smile, handing you a small bouquet of red and white roses—another surprise he’d been hiding in that trunk of his.

You held the sweet-smelling flowers close to your nose now as Bob made a few turns, heading in a direction that was not totally familiar to you.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you whispered softly, a hint of emotion catching in your voice as you rested the beautiful bouquet in your lap. You couldn’t wait to put it in one of your Christmas vases when you got home and proudly display it on the coffee table in the living room.

Bob glanced over at you as he came to a red light, his blue eyes brimming with adoration as he soaked in how happy and content you looked. “You deserve it,” he told you, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, his fingers lightly stroking the inside of your knee. “You deserve all this and so much more. And I’m so lucky to be the man who gets to give it to you—or try anyway,” he added with a sheepish laugh.

Before the light could turn green, you leaned over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. “You succeed,” you murmured against his lips. “Every time. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

“I love you,” he smiled, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb before returning both hands to the wheel, ignoring the disgruntled driver who was honking behind him.

You giggled as you settled back in your seat with a happy sigh. “I love you, too, honey.” You paused for a moment or two, then tacked on, “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nice try,” Bob laughed, shooting you a sideways glance. “I haven’t spoiled any of my surprises today. You think I’m going to start now?”

“Oh, fine,” you replied, heaving a dramatic sigh and then grinning. “I can’t wait to find out what it is though.”

“I have a feeling you’re really going to love it,” he said, his smile warmer than the San Diego sun as he tapped his hands excitedly on the steering wheel, his own anticipation building.

“I know I will,” you nodded, lifting the bouquet of roses to your nose once more and taking a delicate sniff. “I love anything so long as I’m doing it with you.”

A few minutes later, Bob made a final turn that led the two of you up a winding, gorgeously manicured road. Leaning forward, you gazed out the window eagerly, trying to place exactly where you were. At that exact moment, a large sign came into view that read FAIRMONT GRAND DEL MAR.

Gasping in delight, you practically had your nose smushed against the glass as your husband drove past stunning gardens and twinkling fountains, all decked out with the most darling, demure decorations you had ever seen.

Fairmont Grand Del Mar was one of the most luxurious and glamorous hotels in all of Southern California, and while it was basically right in your own backyard, you had never stepped foot on its grounds before.

You suddenly found yourself very grateful that your jeans and sweater were safely tucked away in a duffel bag. Thank goodness your brilliant husband thought of everything.

“Oh my goodness, Bobby!” you squealed, covering your mouth to try to control the delighted laughter that was bubbling up inside you. But it was no use. “It’s so beautiful here!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bob hummed in agreement, taking in the view as he slowed his pace along the property’s winding pathways. “A beautiful girl in a beautiful place. Sounds about right to me,” he added, eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

You just smiled at that, a pleasant warmth rushing to your cheeks as you tried to take in as much of the views as you could. As if the hotel grounds weren’t breathtaking enough on their own, they’d clearly gone to great lengths to turn the property into a winter wonderland for the holidays and they had more than succeeded. You loved every inch of it.

Moments later, after Bob had helped you out of the car and handed his keys off to a valet parker, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you into the lobby of what seemed to be one of the hotel’s restaurants. It was elegantly designed, with Persian rugs and cream-colored marble walls, scrolled detailing on the ceiling, and a roaring fireplace to give the room a cozy, inviting atmosphere. It was decorated for the season with class—golden candelabras, dark red poinsettias, aromatic garland wrapped in red ribbons and bows, giant wreaths practically the size of you hanging on the walls.

It felt like a little Christmas paradise.

You were thankful for Bob’s strong hand on your back, guiding you along as you tripped over your own two feet, gazing around the room in unabashed awe.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered in your ear as you approached the host stand. “I’ll make sure to take lots of pictures of you in that gorgeous dress with this perfect Christmas backdrop,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I want you in the pictures, too,” you whispered back, grinning as you squeezed his hand where it was resting on your hip. “Too bad we didn’t think to come here for our Christmas card photo,” you added, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Next year,” Bob winked. He managed to tear his gaze away from you only when the two of you finally got to the stand and the hostess looked at you expectantly.

“Good evening,” she said in a voice that was calm, cool, and cultured. “Do you have a reservation with us tonight?”

“Yes,” Bob told her, squeezing your hip softly as he spoke. “Dinner for two. It should be under Floyd.”

The hostess checked her computer screen and smiled. “Ah, yes. We’re pleased to welcome you tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Floyd. Please, follow me,” she said, leading you through a small maze of elegantly set tables, bedecked with what appeared to be antique tablecloths, romantic candles, and subtle hints of holly and garland.

The three of you finally came to a stop at a cozy table right near a window which overlooked the gardens, a twinkling Christmas tree right in your line of vision.

“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess told you as the two of you got settled in your seats. “We hope you very much enjoy our special Christmas menu here at Fairmont Grand Del Mar,” she added with a gracious smile before turning to head back to her post.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a soft smile, maintaining every ounce of decorum you could possibly muster until the woman was out of earshot. Then you let out a delighted squeal, the same sound you used to make when opening your presents on Christmas morning as a little girl. “Bobby! This is incredible! How did you manage this?” you demanded, gaping at him in amazement. Then you giggled. “Wait, let me guess. Mav knows another guy?”

“Actually this time, it was Payback who knew a guy,” Bob laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in his, brushing his thumb across your soft skin. “His cousin works concierge at the hotel, so he managed to pull a few strings.”

“Amazing,” you grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Don’t let me forget to thank Mav and Reuben when I see them at the party.”

“Just Mav and Reuben?” he teased, pretending to be wounded.

You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice as you told him, “Well I’m going to give you a proper thank you tonight.” Your eyes sparkled in tandem with the diamond pendant hanging around your neck.

Bob’s cheeks turned bright pink as he caught your meaning, and he reached up to tug lightly at the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat.

Winking, you leaned back with a smile. Your husband was saved from having to come up with a reply by the sudden appearance of your waiter, an older, dignified man named Antonio, who greeted you both warmly as he shared some drink recommendations.

Despite the fact that Bob hardly ever drank, he ordered the two of you a bottle of champagne that came highly recommended, which Antonio happily delivered along with a bucket of ice.

“To you, sweetheart,” Bob toasted, lifting the flute that your waiter had filled just a moment earlier. “This time of year wouldn’t be half as special if it wasn’t for you.”

“No, to you,” you smiled, raising your own champagne flute to mirror your husband’s. “Today was beyond words, and none of it would have been possible without you.”

“To us then,” he grinned, compromising as he tipped his glass towards you.

“To us,” you nodded in agreement, lightly clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. “Mmm, that’s delicious,” you murmured appreciatively, licking a drop of the champagne off your lip.

“Mhm,” Bob hummed, looking almost surprised. “I mean, not that I have much to compare to, but I’d say this is the best champagne I’ve ever had.”

“Better than at our wedding?” you joked.

“I stand corrected. This is the second best champagne I’ve ever had,” he chuckled.

You and Bob relaxed into smooth and easy conversation. Both your mothers would have scolded you for resting your elbows on the table, especially in such a fancy restaurant, but neither of you cared as you leaned in closer to one another, whispering over the candlelight as the twinkling lights outside the window illuminated your lovestruck faces. Faintly, in the distance, you could hear the soft sounds of classic Christmas tunes being played on a piano. It was the most perfect evening you could have imagined.

The food was some of the best you’d ever tasted. After much debate, you finally settled on the filet mignon with a bearnaise sauce, roasted vegetables, and what had to be the world’s creamiest mashed potatoes, while Bob selected the pork medallions with roasted garlic fingerling potatoes and a brussel sprout salad. Although really it was hard to say who had ordered what considering the way you kept picking food off each other’s plates.

By the time the sour-cherry cheesecake trifle that the two of you had ordered for the grand finale came out, you felt like you were going to burst right out of your pretty red dress. But like you always said, there was always room for dessert.

“You want to know the craziest thing?” you asked, looking up at Bob as you set your fork down on the plate resting between you and your husband. When he nodded at you, you went on, “I just realized that I didn’t think about any of my holiday planning at all today—the shopping, my work party, the parties we’re hosting, none of it. It didn’t cross my mind at all even though it’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. Isn’t that funny?”

Bob set his fork down as well and gazed at you from across the table, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile. ��Good,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his once more, gently playing with your wedding band. “That was my mission, and it sounds like it was a success. I wanted today to be a day where you just got to have fun and enjoy this time of year. I know how much it means to you, and I also know that it’ll be over in the blink of an eye, so we have to make the most of it while we can.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt the corners of your eyes pricking with happy tears. Your husband was truly the most thoughtful, selfless, caring man you had ever known. You would never know what you had ever done to get so lucky as to find him.

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, mimicking his actions and lightly rolling his wedding band underneath your finger as you reached for his other hand. You were quiet for a moment, then thought of his words from earlier, the words that had been niggling the back of your mind on and off since you’d left the ice skating rink. “What you said before,” you began slowly, chewing on your bottom lip, “about missing me these past few weeks. Have I really been that busy? I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, honey, no,” Bob gasped, squeezing your hands tightly in his own. “I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I’ve just been worried about you, that’s all. You’re always so happy this time of year, and I know how much it means to you, so I hate to see you running yourself ragged like you have been. I guess I was starting to be afraid that you were going to burn yourself out before Christmas even got here.”

Your heart constricted at the genuine concern in his voice, at the way he was always looking out for you, even when you weren’t paying careful enough attention.

“And I have missed you,” he added softly, lifting one of your hands to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you, too, honey,” you whispered, your throat clogging with emotion as you thought of the many nights you’d come home later than usual after running to the stores after work, too tired to curl up on the couch and watch a movie with your husband or just get to enjoy his company. “And you’re right—I have been running myself ragged. I can feel it. I’ve been so tired, and I feel like I don’t even have the time to enjoy all my favorite traditions.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I just—I just wanted everything to be perfect this year, you know?”

“It always is perfect,” Bob murmured encouragingly, gently stroking the inside of your wrist with his calloused fingertips, his movements slow and soothing.

“I know, but with it being our first married Christmas, I guess I just wanted it to be really perfect. I got it into my head that we needed to start all these new traditions and that I had to keep on top of everything at all times to make sure that it happened, but now I’m realizing that in the process of all that, I lost sight of what’s most important about celebrating our first Christmas as husband and wife—you,” you admitted, reaching up to lovingly cup his cheek in your hand.

He smiled softly at your words, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Sweetheart, the good news is that we have a whole lifetime of making traditions together. So long as it’s you and me, then that’s all I need,” he promised you.

You nodded, a couple stray tears spilling down your cheeks, which you wiped away with a sheepish little laugh. “You’re right. Today was a pretty good start to some Floyd Christmas traditions, I think,” you told him with a grin.

Bob reached out to thumb away the tears sparkling like diamonds on your skin. “I agree,” he smiled. “But the truth is, I don’t care what we’re doing. We could go ice skating on the beach or watch a movie on the couch. We could have a five-star dinner at the Fairmont Grand Del Mar or eat take-out on the kitchen floor.” He glanced around for a moment, just to check if anyone had heard him, his blue eyes laughing as he turned back to you. “I just want to do it with you. That’s what Christmas really means to me, sweetheart. All the other stuff, that’s icing on the cake.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered, leaning across the table and capturing his mouth with your own, the taste of sour cherries and champagne still clinging to his lips.

His fingers tangled in your hair as he cradled the back of your head and kissed you back until you were both sitting breathless in your chairs.

“You’re the love of my life,” he told you. “No matter how many traditions come and go, that’s one thing that will never change.”

As soon as you and Bob got home that night, exhausted in the best way after a perfect day together, you both ran to change into the Christmas pajamas you’d worn last Christmas Eve, then curled up on the couch with steaming mugs of hot cocoa to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas.

“Tired?” Bob asked softly as the Peanuts crew sang “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” while the credits rolled.

“Mmm, a little,” you nodded, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his shoulder.

“Ready to head to bed?” he yawned, pushing the blanket back and rising from the couch before turning to hold his hands out to you.

“Mhm,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your husband’s and allowing him to pull you to your feet. “But not to go to sleep just yet,” you added pointedly.

At your husband’s raised brows, you giggled softly.

“I still have to properly thank you for today,” you reminded him with a playful wink.

You had never seen him move so fast.

That Christmas turned out to be one of the best you’d ever celebrated. Your work party went off without a hitch, the Daggers were already talking about how they needed to make a party at the Floyds’ an annual Christmas tradition, and your families loved getting to spend the holidays together as one huge unit. Every gift you’d purchased was well received and every meal you cooked was touted as the best anyone had ever eaten.

But that wasn’t what made it so special.

As you had been reminded this year, Christmas was about so much more than the planning and the presents and the parties. Those things were nice, sure, but they weren’t what made this time of year so magical.

What made this Christmas so perfect was the handsome man with blue eyes and a wide smile waiting for you beneath the mistletoe.

He was the only gift you needed, today and every day for the rest of your life.

#a lew magoo christmas #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

[rustedhearts]

battlefield (boxer!steve x librarian!fem au)

summary: you reappear in hawkins after eight months away—only this time, steve’s nowhere to be found. what happened while you were away, and why are you refusing his calls?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of the ring ♡

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, breakup (though not really), manhandling (steve leaves a bruise), toxic relationship, steve sucks! but he tries to make up for it, reader (libby) wears glasses and has a little brother.

a/n: here's what i have to say about this one: the girls that get it, get it. the girls that don't, don't.

“it would help me to know, do i stand in your way? or am i the best thing you’ve had?”

—battlefield, pat benatar

hawkins, indiana october 1990

In February, you said goodbye to your family. You gave a temporary two week’s notice to the library with a firm promise to return when Steve’s first tournament had finished. You packed up your old bedroom, said goodbye to childhood forever, and stepped out a woman. Steve’s woman.

And all you knew, for the next eight months, was: Steve. Training, dieting, fights, press conferences, and endorsement deals. Steve, Steve, Steve. Life revolved around him completely.

Until October, when you returned to Hawkins, and said hello to your family once more.

You appeared on a Saturday afternoon. A crisp chill hung in the air, scented of damp soil and the sweet aroma of autumn leaves. They filled the town with rust-colored enthusiasm; the tree in front of your old bedroom window, though, was golden yellow. They made your green lawn appear like a pool of honey. And it was on your yellow lawn that your mother gazed out to find you standing, luggage in hand, staring at the door.

She dropped the duster in her hand and flew to the door, practically tumbling down the front steps to fling herself at you. She squeezed and prodded and pulled, assessing you like some sort of miracle on her doorstep.

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing home?”

You kissed her cheek, flashed a smile, and rolled your suitcase into the house. You hugged and kissed your father hello, laughed dryly when your younger brother Nick made a joke, and strolled upstairs with your luggage. It was half of what you’d left with eight months ago. You appeared just as proportionally empty—halved. Missing, quite literally, the other part of you.

There was no Steve, and no sign of him on you. Only the big black sweatshirt he bought you from the Hot Rod cafe, paired with a white turtleneck and old, worn denim jeans from high school. You climbed into your old bed—still made with the same colorful quilt and frilly sheets—and closed your eyes, still wearing the clothes you’d worn on your flight.

You said nothing of Steve, or why you were home.

You just…slept.

♡ ♡

You slept until Sunday evening.

Until the sunlight dwindled and your father’s knuckles rapped at the door. You brought your head out from beneath the covers to peer toward the door just as it cracked open. Your father’s glasses glared with yellow lamplight.

“Honey…are you okay? You’ve been in here…—well, sweetheart, we haven’t seen you since you got home.”

You shrugged, sniffling. The sound came with a slurp of thick snot, and upon closer inspection, your father immediately noticed the swollen bags under your eyes and their reddened, bloodshot state. “Sorry,” you murmured. “Just jet-lagged.”

Your father stepped into the room, leaving the door open, and sank onto the edge of the bed.“Honey, did he hurt you? Is that why you’re home?”

Huffing, you threw yourself onto your back and let your hands flop atop the mattress. You glared at the poster of James Dean above your bed.

“No, Dad—“

“—because if he hurt you…I know people. I can have him taken out in—“

“—Dad! Stop,” you groaned, rubbing at your swollen, aching eyes. The pillowcase under your head had been soaked and resoaked with a river of tears, and now they sat in a crusty, dried trail on your cheeks.

Your father sighed, though that look of furrowed concern and disappointment lingered. You wanted to assure him he was incorrect. You wanted to promise Steve didn’t hurt you, that you were here on your own volition just to visit. But you’d be lying. And you were tired of lying on Steve’s behalf.

You hoped and prayed your father wouldn’t ask you again—because the next time, you wouldn’t be able to muster anything but the truth.

“We’re happy you’re home, honey, but…we just wanna make sure everything’s okay.”

You pushed your hair away from your face, puffing air into your cheeks only to expel it out. “It’s fine, Dad! Okay? I just…I just want to sleep.”

Your father slid off the bed, standing to full height again. He rubbed at his jaw—salt and pepper beard sounding rough and dry—and backed away.

“Alright. Well, your dinner’s in the oven to keep warm. Mom’s making pudding. Chocolate, your favorite.”

You pursed your lips, feeling guilty and small, and nodded meekly. Your father flashed a minuscule smile and headed toward the door. Maybe you could blame the jet-lag for your sudden abruptness, but that would be another lie. You’d been a bristly version of yourself ever since you left New York(…and Steve).

“Alright, honey. Sleep tight.”

“Night, dad.”

When the door clicked closed, you groaned and kicked the covers off. The room was stiff and warm, the windows firmly shut to clamp off any semblance of an autumn breeze, curtains and blinds drawn to hide the leaves. You didn’t want to see how pretty the world looked while you suffered miserably.

But at least you could shower. You could try to do that.

In your old bathroom—floral wallpaper, pink tile, frilly bath mats, potpourri on the back of the toilet tank—you stripped down bare. You clenched your fists and gazed into the mirror, and almost instinctually, your eyes fell to your left forearm. A swell of blood popped beneath the skin just in the center of your arm, appearing violet in the aftermath, indigo in spots: the shape of Steve, left bruised on you in a handprint.

You turned away from the mirror and turned the shower on, heat high. You stepped in and closed your eyes, lip caged between your teeth to cease the trembling. The shower stream boiled your tears and drained your nose. The water smelled a little metallic: old pipes gone unused.

Eyes sinking closed, you tipped your head back into the water and let it rain over you.

♡ ♡

"Who the fuck was that?"

Seated on a padded leather bench on a gym in New York City—book in hand, glasses perched on the bridge of your nose—gazing up at Steve looming over you. His skin practically steamed, drowning in a sheen of glimmering sweat, hair clinging to his forehead, overgrown and neglected on the road. Cheeks swollen with red warmth, brows creased, eyes nothing other than empty.

You closed your book and glanced off toward the back of the strange man's head, exiting your periphery. "I don't know. He wanted to know where the bathroom was, Steve."

Five minutes ago, another gym-goer came up to you, towel thrown over his hulking shoulder, and asked you where the bathroom was. He smiled a dazzling white, catalogue smile, and you pointed toward the toilets. You directed your eyes back to the book in your lap and said nothing else. Steve wailed on the mitts in the ring, answering every of Big's 'one, two' with a sharp smack of fist.

And now here he was, towering over you like you'd asked the man to dinner.

"How come every time I turn around, some creep is all over you? Huh?"

You sighed, setting the book on the bench beside your purse. Big lingered in the ring, pretending not to listen as he slurped water from a Gatorade bottle.

"I don't know, Steve—"

"—oh, so he was a creep?"

"Jesus," you groaned, throwing your head back toward the fluorescents above you. Steve had been a tangy sour taste in your mouth since you arrived in New York two days ago. "No, Steve, he was not a creep. He was just—"

"—you know, you must be doin' somethin' to invite all these guys your way."

You turned back to Steve, gaping at his furrowed frown. Surely he didn't mean that. Surely he wasn't questioning your loyalty to him. You'd done nothing but cater to him all year. You followed him around the country for his career; put your life on hold for his career; neglected and abandoned your own needs and desires for his career—only to be scolded for every wrongdoing in Steve's eyes.

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm tired of having to worry if every time I turn around, the vultures will swarm my girlfriend. They just eat you up, huh?"

You leapt to your feet, the ache to cry growing stronger by the second. His words cut deep—the implications behind them cut deeper.

"That sounds like your problem, Steve. Those are your insecurities talking, and they don't have shit to do with me," you hissed, snatching your belongings from the bench.

You were a step away from Steve when he called back out. "Hey. Hey! Get back here when I'm talking to you, Libby."

You scoffed, shaking your head furiously as you stomped toward the door. "You're fucking crazy if you think I'm gonna listen to you—"

His hand was on your arm then, yanking you into a spin. You flew into his chest, a painful collision for both of you. But you glared, serpent-like, as mean as you could muster, into the death stare of your boyfriend. You didn't like that look on his face. You didn't like the grip he had on you. It came out of nowhere.

But his rage-fits usually did these days.

"You're not goin' anywhere," he growled evenly.

You yanked at your arm, teeth clenching together. "Yes. I. Am. Let me go, Steven."

He persisted, fingers squeezing tighter. You coughed away a yelp, wondering if you stomped on his foot if that would loosen his grip or make it worse. You weren't sure you wanted to try—and suddenly, that hurt worse.

You never wanted to be afraid of Steve, and he promised you'd never have to be.

"Harrington," Big called sternly from the ring. He leaned on the ropes now, watching carefully.

"Shut the fuck up," Steve barked his coach's way, though his attention never left you. You pulled at your arm again.

"Let me go!"

"Let her go, Harrington."

"I said shut up!"

Eyes stinging with tears, you pushed at his chest with your spare hand, smacking your book against his bare skin. "Let go, Steve!"

You sprung loose, exhaling a weak cry when your arm came away throbbing and splotchy. You adjusted the strap of your purse on your shoulder and clutched your book against your chest, gazing at Steve like a stranger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you wailed, tears slipping free as you slammed into the door to exit.

He didn't come after you.

He stayed to train. You waited in the room, weeping noisily in the cold bathroom. As the hours ticked away, you found yourself dreading his arrival. Fearing what might come of it.

You scrambled to your feet, and in a rush of hyperventilation and buzzing nerves, you packed your bags. Anything you could grab on hand, anything you recognized as yours—you shoved it all into your suitcase on the floor and zipped it up. You knew, even as you slipped your coat on and rolled it through the door, that you'd forgotten most of your things.

And as you rode the elevator down, you stopped crying. You snatched the pen in your purse and hurried to the front desk, snatching a stationary pad and using the marble countertop for something solid.

Steve,

You promised me happiness, but all you've given me is pain. I can't do this anymore. I can't keep letting you hurt me, no matter how much I love you, or how much you claim to love me. Your anger and jealousy have ruined us, and I can't take it anymore.

I'm going home. Please don't follow me. Not even if you're sorry, and not even if you really mean it this time.

—Libby

"Please give this to Mr. Harrington when he comes back."

♡ ♡

"Hey, honey. Glad to see you up and...dressed! It's a miracle."

Your smile veered toward a scowl as you sank into your chair at the kitchen table, showered and in a fresh change of clothes: your high school sweatshirt from your final homecoming game, the green and gold of Hawkins High. It was still soft and smelled of laundry soap.

All your other clothes smelled like Steve.

"Yeah," you murmured, wet hair dripping on the table.

Your father shuffled into the room in his slippers, glasses perched low on his nose, just as your mother slid a cup of homemade pudding your way. You gingerly accepted the spoon, mustering the smallest grin of appreciation. You hadn't wanted to eat. You tried a packet of trail-mix on the plane and it made your stomach flop. The smell of Sunday dinner (meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans) still hanging in the kitchen air made you want to throw up.

But the pudding was smooth and sweet, and you ate small bites to keep your mother happy and your father quiet. You couldn't stomach another 'are you okay?'

You kept your sleeves tucked over your knuckles as you ate, limbs hidden in your sweatshirt and a pair of linty joggers. Soon, your entire family gathered at the table, licking pudding from spoons, tapping silver against porcelain to fill the quiet. The television hummed with an evening program in the living room. Even Nick sat, slump-shouldered beside you.

Their silence was almost as bad as their pestering.

"Guys," you sighed, spoon clattering on the table. "I'm fine, okay? I don't need you to...please don't hover, okay? I'm home now, and that's that."

You bounced between their gazes with a pointed look of your own, brows raised in question. Your parents bobbed their agreement, though the sourness to their expressions leaned toward hesitation. Your little brother, Nick, however, stared at the table with pursed lips. In his own silent way, his admiration for Steve spanned past athletic abilities and bled into morality. You didn't want to give him reason to believe Steve didn't deserve that admiration. Whatever happened between the two of you had nothing to do with him as a person.

You didn't want your little brother to think differently of his idol.

Before anyone could say anything else, the phone on the wall shrilled. You knew who'd be on the other line the moment your mother stood to answer, shuffling over in her pajamas and answering with a polite, chipper tone. You inhaled deeply when her eyes cut over to you.

"Sure, she's right here. Honey, it's Ste—"

You stood to your feet, chair screeching on the tile. "I'm sleeping."

You disappeared swiftly, steps ascending the creaking stairs followed by the clamp of your bedroom door slamming. Your father looked toward your mother, who pulled the phone from her chest and cleared her throat.

"You know what? She's sleeping right now. Try back in the morning?"

Steve's voice murmured through the other line in response, and your mother glanced at your father, who strained to listen.

"I'm sure she'll call you when she's ready, Steven. Just give her some space."

♡ ♡

Monday

You woke at noon and pouted at your disheveled reflection in the vanity mirror. A polaroid of Steve was wedged in the corner of the mirror: black hoodie, hood pulled up, strong jaw, cut cheekbones, a purpled split in his lip from a prior fight. He came home to you like that, bloody and bruised. He wasn't supposed to make you feel that way, too.

You pulled it from the mirror and placed it face-down on the vanity table. The kitchen phone rang while you coated your lashes in mascara, and again as you rummaged through your closet and a half-empty wardrobe left abandoned for months. You refused to touch your suitcase or the contents inside. It all reeked of Steve. All tainted by his touch.

The phone rang as you plucked your car keys from the glass bowl in the kitchen, and you heard it again—a distant, muffled blare—as you threw open the garage door and uncovered your untouched car. You drowned it in the growl of your engine, and for a moment, you felt relieved that it wouldn't be you crying today.

It would be Steve.

♡ ♡

You went to the only place you felt safe: the library.

Two words into your explanation speech, your boss, Shelly, placed a hand on your shoulder and slipped your name tag into your palm.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." She beamed, patting your arm and directing you on your way.

You dove right in, swimming through the stacks of books at a glacial, peaceful pace. You knew the system like the back of your hand, and soon all the books were in their rightful places on the shelves.

"Libby? Oh my god, when did you get home?" Lisa, another victim of abandonment for the sake of Steve, came rushing down the aisle you were in.

You hadn't spoken to Lisa since you left, and suddenly a pang of guilt crashed into you as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. You returned the hug and mirrored her smile.

"Just the other day," you told her as she pulled away. "It was a last minute thing."

She bombarded you with questions, too blinded by enthusiasm to be upset with you for ghosting your friendship. You told her as much as you could, wincing when Steve's name came from her mouth. And like Beetlejuice or some other demonic figure, call his name three times and he shall appear.

"Baby."

You whipped around, smile crumbling at the sight of Steve stalking your way: sunglasses on, new Cadillac keys in one hand, a bouquet of pink roses in the other. Lisa became forgotten, and the stacks of books darkened like in vignette around you as Steve closed in on you.

You dropped the book in your hand on the metal cart you'd been working on, turning away from Steve to rush down the aisle.

"Lib—baby, come on!"

Lisa watched Steve zoom past her, mouth agape with confused awe as he chased after you. Your poker face remained bitter and impenetrable as you made your way through the center aisle, skirt flouncing with every stomp of your kitten heels.

"Libby, please, stop."

"I told you not to follow me," you droned without turning around.

His keys jingled with every jog after you, cellophane-wrapped flowers crinkling in his fist. You curled your fingers into a fist of your own, nails biting skin as his scent crept your way. You were grateful it was still school hours and the library was only half empty. Half the humiliation.

"You really thought—baby, please, stop."

Thick fingers circled your wrist, skirting you to a stop far gentler than the one that drove you away. His grip, much more delicate, still made your eyes sting. You kept your chin turned away but allowed your body to stop at his will. In your periphery, his puppy-dog look begged you to pay attention to him.

Steve heaved for air. "You really thought I wouldn't come after you? That I wouldn't fight for you? Baby, please. Come on, I love you so much. I'm-I'm sorry."

Your cheeks burned white hot, lip wobbling. He was always sorry.

You pushed at his hand, urging his touch away from you. He followed your movements, and like he didn't understand, he pulled you closer. You pushed at his chest this time, insistent on space between your bodies.

"Steve, stop," you sighed, wiggling your wrist in his hold.

"Baby, please just talk to me—"

"—you hurt me, Steve."

Steve sighed, head hanging toward yours. "I know, baby—"

"—you don't know. I told you not to come after me."

Steve took his hand away, shoulders drooping. He deflated with a syrupy sigh, the heel of his palms reaching for your jaw. The metal of his car key bit into your chin, the cellophane of the flowers you wouldn't be taking tapping your cheek.

"Libby, why are you doing this? Please, I'm here, I'm sorry." His voice wavered with undeniable guilt, dripped with sorrowful regret.

But it wouldn't be that easy this time.

How many times have you stood in this position now? How many times has he grabbed your face and kissed it clean of tears he triggered you to shed? How many times has he stomped on your heart, only to glue it back together for a chance to shatter again.

"Go, Steve," you mumbled, shoving his hands away again.

He'd never seen you so withdrawn. You were almost...cold. Unfeeling. Steve recoiled like you'd burned him, hands coming to dangle at his sides. You hadn't looked at him once, and you turned on your heel without doing so.

He watched you walk away, standing in the carpeted center aisle of the library with his heart in his hands.

♡ ♡

Tuesday

Steve sat on your porch with his head in his hands, elbows digging divots in his thighs.

Big and Mikey were frantic, calling his apartment phone insisting he return before the endorsements caught wind of his sudden departure. He spent the night tossing and turning, glaring at your flowers still wrapped and tied with ribbon on the kitchen table. He'd let them die if you wouldn't have them.

He woke this morning after barely a wink of sleep and found himself here. He parked the Cadillac on the curb and tapped his fingers on the wheel, wondering if he should wait it out in there. But then your mother tapped on the glass of the window, and he rolled it down to flash her a smile.

"Steven...I think she wants to be alone."

Steve nodded, looking off toward your window. "Yeah. Right, yeah. I just...I want...I have to—I just want her to—"

"—you can stay. But if she asks you to leave, please respect her wishes."

Steve nodded again, and watched your mother's car back out of the driveway moments later. When she was gone, and the house was empty aside from you, Steve hurried to the steps. He lifted a hand to knock and paused.

He really hurt you this time, he knew it all too well. But…you always took him back. No matter what he did, you always took him back if he said he was sorry. Why was this time any different?

Steve huffed, kicking the wedge of metal under the door. Why did he always have to snap? Why did he always have to lose control? You deserved better, and if you gave him a chance, he’d try to be that for you.

Muttering under his breath, Steve fixed his hands on his hips and began to pace the porch, rehearsing before he knocked: “M’ sorry…m’ sorry for bein’—ach, fuck. Libby, m’ sorry for—“

“—do you know what you’re sorry for, Steve?”

Steve whirled around, hands dropping to his sides. You were pajama clad and puffy-eyed, a pair of glasses too big for your face slipping down your nose. Your slippers had bunny ears and lint around the edges.

“Everything, baby,” Steve breathed, taking a wide stride toward the door. “I’m sorry for everything.”

You sighed, leaning against the doorway. You crossed your arms, and as you tucked them against your chest, Steve found the bruise on your forearm. He stopped in his ascent toward you, hands paused mid-air.

“Wha—what is…did I—is that from me—“

“Steve,” you whispered, yanking your sleeve down. “Just…it’s not a big deal, okay?”

He blinked at you, shuffling back a step. “Not a big deal? Libby, I never meant—it is a big deal, baby—“

“—obviously it’s a big fucking deal, Steven. I just…I don’t wanna do this right now, alright?"

Steve understood your sudden hostility, but it still made him frown. He took another step back, stumbled this time. He couldn't swallow past his heart, thumping in his throat. "O-okay..."

You looked anywhere but him. His shoes, the tree-coated lawn, the birds swooping down. You reached for the door behind you, stepping back into the house. Steve jerked forward, jaw clenching. He wasn't used to refraining from you. He didn't know how to stop from touching you, kissing you, feeling you. He felt sick over what he did.

"Is it—can I...come back? Can we talk?" He took his lip between his teeth and gnawed, ripping skin and splitting the seams. He sucked the blood into his mouth and you tipped your head, letting it rest against the front door.

His cheeks held the faintest pink glow, eyes doe-like and melancholic. God, you were easy, weren't you?

"Yeah...yeah, Steve, we'll talk."

Steve released his lip, nodding. His hands wrung together in line with his pelvis. "Tomorrow?"

You nodded, lifting your head from the door. "Tomorrow."

♡ ♡

Wednesday

The only place in town to get coffee was Laurie's, and you sighed as you stood on the curb outside the diner. The autumn breeze whipped around you in a brisk tunnel, skipping crisp leaves across the street, bringing wisps of hair to your eyes. Steve was already inside, tapping his sunglasses on the granite tabletop, knee shaking furiously against the booth. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had breakfast in that very booth with him, smitten with his charm and drunk on his attention.

The bell chimed with your arrival, and Steve watched you with half-lifted eyes as you slid his way. You sank into the booth with grace, reaching for a pink sugar packet to fiddle with.

"Got you a coffee. Vanilla creamer," he said, motioning toward the stained white porcelain on your left.

"Thanks."

He sat, hunched, like halved version of himself. Sliced by his own wrongdoings, a pile of poisoned pieces in a diner booth. His knuckles ached from punching the old bag in his apartment, eyes heavy from crying. He cracked a toe on the end of his dresser and broke a mug. He nicked his finger on a shard when he fumbled to put it together again.

Even his regret was enraged.

Steve tapped his sunglasses again, scratching at his scalp. You cupped your palms around the mug for warmth, steam fogging the lenses of your glasses. He hated that he didn't know what to say. He hated that you weren't yelling at him, throwing things at him—something. He'd let you tear his hair out if it meant you still cared enough.

"Baby...I don't know what to say," Steve sighed airily, hands resting on the table.

You clicked your shoes together under the table, watching the vat of brown liquid ripple in your mug. "Yeah."

Steve looked at you. He watched you stare blankly, he watched you breathe out. "Yeah? That's...that's it?"

You shrugged. "I'm tired of being the one to explain, Steve. I'm tired of outlining your own behavior for you."

Steve dragged a hand through his hair, huffing through his nose.

"Alright, I'm not...I'm not sayin' you should. I just—I'm just sorry. You know I'd never hurt you—"

You cut him a look: incredulous, pinched, pained. Steve tossed his glasses aside, and they skittered toward the sugar packets.

"—on purpose...God, baby, I'd never hurt you on purpose."

You rolled your lip between your teeth, looking toward your arm, bruise hidden beneath another sweater. Steve mirrored your gaze, head sagging toward his shoulder.

"Can I...can I see it?" he murmured.

You turned to him, cheeks warm. The diner clinked with cutlery, clattering with piles plates. Only a few truckers and an old woman filled the space around you.

You pulled away from your coffee and nodded, hands falling to your lap. You took another look around as Steve sat up, inhaling to steady himself, and inched toward the edge of the booth.

"Not here."

Steve followed you to the alley, keeping a reasonable distance that killed him to maintain. You rolled your sleeve up, back to the brick wall, and let Steve cradle your arm to inspect. The hand that squeezed the skin scraped gently across you now. You shivered as his breath fanned the indigo mark. It was starting to fade at least.

You were about to remark on this small relief, attempt an ill-humored joke, when Steve collapsed to his knees. Chunks of gravel skittered with his weight upon them. You gasped and flinched at his sudden movement, gazing down to find his mouth coating your arm in weepy kisses.

You were frozen in his featherlight touch, fingers barely pressing into your wrist; smattering you in wet lip prints.

"Jesus, m' sorry. M' so—" He sniffled, loud and slurping. "M' so fuckin' sorry."

You leaned into the brick for support, mouth agape and only capable of silence.

"Please f-forgive me, angel, please. I'll never do it again, I p-promise," he whimpered, eyes like shallow, pink pools of water pleading up at you.

With unsteady fingers, you lifted your right hand to his cheek. He fell into you touch, sighing into the skin. He pressed a kiss to your palm, smeared tears against your uninjured skin. He hiccuped for air, jolting with stacattoed sobs. You'd never seen him so distressed. The closest he ever came to this was in Seattle, when the mention of his mother sent him into a spiral.

You slid your hand across the nape of his neck, lifting your palm to glide down the back of his silky hair. "Alright. Alright, Steve, it's okay."

He fell forward, arms winding around your thighs, face smushed against your stomach. You buried your fingers in his hair, kneading like dough.

"It's okay, you're okay. I forgive you, baby."

Steve nodded, squeezing you tight. You ached something awful in your gut, a piercing pang in your chest. You dipped down to press a kiss on his head, squeezing your eyes shut.

And right there in that sharp graveled alleyway, you got down on your knees with him. Eye to eye, mouth to mouth, you hid your bruise beneath a sleeve again and attached yourself to him. His tears were salty and cool, sucked free of warmth by the air nipping at exposed skin. His lips were soft and tasted like acidic coffee.

Remnants of a sob lingered on his tongue when he exhaled into your open mouth. His hands were hot and heavy on your cheeks. You clutched at his hoodie for dear life. He tore away from your mouth and journeyed kisses down your cheek—open-mouthed, full of breath, a little slice of teeth. He wandered to your neck and nuzzled deep.

A ceremonial on your knees.

Your mother would have questions. Your father wouldn't trust Steve for a long time. Your little brother would never know the difference. Big and Mikey would take the pair of you back without a word, because at least their pockets would still be lined with dough.

And Steve?

Steve learned that you'd stay, no matter how bad he could be.

♡ ♡

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #boxer!steve #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington hurt/comfort

[gothicwidowsworld]

First kiss M.A

Warning: literally based of my first kiss experience, yes i know its embarrassing but also fucking hilarious also couldn’t find a gif from the episode i wanted so have this instead :)

“I… I don’t understand how I keep getting roped into this shit.” the y/h/c young woman grumbled loudly taking a sip of some leftover French chardonnay. The chardonnay had been an unexpected but welcomed surprise, after complaining a few episodes ago about the sheer amount of reds that were featured the wannabe sommelier Clément Novalak made sure to select a white for the girl. Clem had probably dropped the name of the province the golden liquid had come from during his spell about aged oak barrels and the apricot orange-peel floral notes but in this exact moment Y/N could not have cared less. 

“Because you love spending time with us.” Marcus replied, shooting the girl a cocky smile as his honey eyes captured her familiar y/e/c over his sunglasses. “Debatable.” Y/N hummed snarkily. “Clem is bearable at times, but you two….” Y/N gestured at the two Kiwi boys before trailing off taking another sip from her sadly rapidly emptying glass. “I’m going to take that as the compliment I’m hoping it was intended to be.” The French driver mumbled, absentmindedly readjusting his bow-tie.  “Aw you know I love you Clemmie” the y/s/c young woman exclaimed in a sing-song tone playfully throwing her free arm around the tuxedo donned man. “And yet no love for me… not even a little. What kind of girlfriend are you!” Marcus moaned in disbelief at the long-time friendship being rubbed in his face. “Oh quit whining and get on with it.” Y/N sassily retaliated rolling her eyes at the Kiwi’s hysterics. 

“Fine.” Marcus grumbled, however he struggled to hold back the building smile. If there was one thing Marcus sucked at it was hiding his emotions. It didn’t take a genius to work out how he felt about the young woman. From the way his soft golden hazel eyes would sparkle to the small twitches of his upper lip as he tried to bite back a growing grin. “I meant to ask Max during the podcast but I never got around to it, so when and where is your first kiss.” Marcus continued, still slightly kicking himself that he’d forgotten to ask such a juicy question to Max ‘rejected him 26 times’ Fewtrell himself. “We can re-divert!” James stated quickly a smug grin beginning to form, the grin targeted towards the F2 Driver dropped quickly when Clem expertly deflected the question “Actually James when was your first kiss.” The Frenchman asked. “It was in Whangamatā actually in 2013.” The dark blond began setting the scene. “2013?!” Y/N coughed out choking slightly on a sudden giggle. If she did the maths quickly that meant James hadn’t kissed anyone until he was sixteen. This new found knowledge practically obliterated the cool suave Bond-like demeanour James had built up. There wasn’t anything wrong with saving your first kiss, absolutely nothing wrong with going at your own pace. But Y/N had known James since he was 18 and the idea that James could probably have somewhat confidently chugged a weak beer before even locking lips with a girl was mind blowing. Shooting the older man an apologetic smile Y/N continued listening to James retelling of probably one of his most awkward life milestones. “Did you give her a wee pecker.. Or was it a slobbery kiss?” Marcus quizzed his fellow countryman, enjoying the growing bashfulness coming from his mate.

Soon it became clear it was Y/N turn to share her recollection of her first kiss. She wished she could lie and say she simply didn’t remember but knowing Marcus well she knew the Kiwi wouldn’t let it go, especially if he thought it could potentially be a little embarrassing. Groaning Y/N pondered for a second, placing her wine glass down and tucking her legs neatly beneath her. Adjusting her hoodie she racked her brains, the Screaming Meals Trio were some of her closest friends but there were still some things the girl didn’t feel needed to be shared and reliving certain parts of her childhood was one of them. Boy looking back Y/N was embarrassed enough, she didn’t need the trio pissing themselves laughing. So, what about your first kiss Y/N/N ?” the French native asked, his narrowed dark hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “Marcus didn’t have to share his so why should I?” Y/N frowned, narrowing her eyes playfully at the Kiwi sat directly across from her. “Well firstly mine wasn’t that interesting, secondly it’s my show.” Marcus called out, poking his tongue out a little at his reasoning.  

“Ok first kiss.” Y/N began pausing for a second. “Like first proper kiss when you were aware of what was happening?” Y/N asked slowly hoping for some clarity, her head tilt in slight confusion. 

“Woah woah woah how many guys have you kissed that you ‘weren't aware of?’” Marcus objected loudly shuffling forward from his relaxed position, emphasizing his point with air quotes. Marcus wouldn’t call himself jealous, in fact that’s one of the last words he’d ever associate with himself, but the idea that there could potentially be a list of guys who’d kissed his girlfriend before him was difficult. The Kiwi Driver couldn’t help the surfacing insecurity, I mean what if (god forbid)  they were better kissers than him? “Don’t be gross Marcus… I mean like I don't want to say 4 or 5 mate… I barely remember it other than he’d been nagging me for ages and apparently he was no longer satisfied with my sadistic self only letting him kiss the bottom of my foot…” 

Stifling a giggle at the mixture of reactions from the boys Y/N shrugged as if her statement was beyond normal. “Also sorry Greg if that made you realise you had a foot fetish or something….” The girl added, reaching to collect her previously abandoned glass. “Uh… ok so what about your first proper kiss then?” Clem managed to ask, the Frenchman still slightly frozen in shock. “Um I was in year four so like 8… oh god…” Y/N trailed off cringing at the memory of this relationship. Hell could she even class it as a relationship? It hadn’t lasted that long, but it had been her first real exposure to boys. The boy in question had been the popular boy at school, all the girls had wanted him and he’d picked her. Something young Y/N had been so immensely proud of. 

“I’m probably going to regret asking this but how old was he?” James interrupted hesitantly, a look of concern filling his pale features. “I think. I think maybe 11? Oh fuck that’s  questionably dodgy.” the young woman groaned in realisation. “That’s like mega dodgy… 10 shades of dodgy.” the insurance broker agreed quickly, running a hand over his face. Silence fell over the small group. You could probably have heard a pin drop, or the sharp intake of breath from an extremely baffled Kiwi named Marcus Armstrong. “Jesus Y/N/N I think I can hear some police sirens.” Marcus exclaimed, clearing his throat, all the brown haired driver got in response was a half-hearted shrug. “Well you wanted something interesting?” the y/h/c girl replied simply. 

#gothicwidow #imagines #marcus armstrong imagines #marcus armstrong x reader #f2 imagines #screaming meals imagines #screaming meals x reader #f2 x reader #clement novalak imagines #clement novalak x reader #formula two imagines #formula two x reader #au imagines

[ragingclaw]

The Usual Routine (Harvey x OC)

Summary: Another day, another season. Harvey takes his time and mulls over things.

Word Count: 1,255

AN: Fluff. Just fluff. Also, I thought about focusing on my fic. I rolled a d20 and got a nat 1. Guess I'll dilly-dally.

The warmth of the morning sun hit Harvey’s face, something he had been experiencing ever since he moved into the farmhouse with Hiraya. Sensing that the right side of the bed was empty, Harvey instinctively reached out for his glasses and made his way to the kitchen, only to find it empty except for the plate and a cup on the table.

Sitting, Harvey hummed to himself as he marveled at the fact that he had found himself living in this peaceful house. Three years after he’d married Hiraya, he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have been the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Remembering the quiet mornings that he would wake up to make him feel warm as he took a spoonful of the complete breakfast in front of him.

In the distance, he could hear Gregory and Flora already at their usual shenanigans. He knew that those two are shouting at each other as they clear up debris scattered around their farm, it is the start of a new season after all. A perfect time to spend time with Aya and Danny, he thought to himself, placing the now-empty plate on the sink and drinking the remaining coffee in his cup.

As he officially started his day, Harvey heard footsteps coming from their son’s room. “What do you want for breakfast?” turning around, he saw Hiraya carrying Daniel whose arms are tightly wrapped around his mother’s neck. A smile appeared on his face when he heard their son mumble something to Hiraya. He looks and sounds just like you, Harvey recalled his mother saying to him one time when his family visited him on his birthday.

After setting the plate aside to dry, Harvey watched Hiraya put Daniel in the chair before ruffling his hair, earning her a giggle. For Harvey, moments like these made his longing for a domestic life for many years worth it. It did not take Daniel long to notice him, as he was immediately bombarded with questions if they are going to help Hiraya on the farm or not.

“Good morning, dear. How’s the breakfast?” Hiraya greeted him with a small smile, finally completing his morning with a kiss from her. He then sat down beside Daniel, who demanded a hug as soon as he was seated. “Honey, it’s fantastic, and all of the dishes that you make are something that I always look forward to.”

He could see a blush form on Hiraya’s cheek and her attempts at hiding it, causing himself in getting flustered at her reaction in return. Announcing that she’ll prepare Daniel’s food, Harvey stood up and volunteered to do it, only for him to almost knock the both of them down. Noticing how close their faces are, Harvey’s breath hitched with how firm yet gentle Hiraya’s grip on his arm was.

It took Hiraya some time when she realized what was happening, and when she did, she couldn’t help but laugh at how silly they are. “Harvey,” she chuckled as she buried her face in his chest, “We are not teenagers anymore.”

“I can’t help it, honey. Your love makes me feel as if this is the first time I have fallen in love with someone.”

Hiraya looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Are you also this much of a flirt 20 years ago?”

“No,” he kissed the top of her head, “I’m just comfortable in expressing my emotions to you.”

The world seemed to slow down for Harvey as he gazed into his wife’s eyes. Uttering a quiet “I’ll cook” to her, he then started preparing their son’s food as his thoughts drifted to the very first day that he met Hiraya. If someone had told him 6 years ago that he would fall in love with one of the new people that moved into Pelican Town, he would laugh at them.

Harvey had been in two failed relationships before Hiraya. The first one was when he was just a sophomore at the university; a charming girl, but tried to control him too much, so much that he forced himself to push his nervousness around people and be a social butterfly after they fought when he declined her invitation one time.

Those five years with his ex drained him emotionally and mentally. Some of his friends advised him to try having one-night stands with other women after his first heartbreak, though he immediately knew that setup wasn’t for him the morning after he woke up with his head throbbing due to hangover, only to find his bed empty with a note from a friend’s friend. Up to this day, Harvey wondered how he was able to do those back then despite how shy he was around people.

If it wasn’t for his second relationship, if he could even call ‘two friends meeting after work to have sex and talk after that’ a relationship, he might’ve been content being alone and married his profession. He had talked with that friend of his after they’d done their routine to try and upgrade their relationship, although after three dates they both knew that neither of them wanted a serious commitment at that time, especially when they both spend most of their days at their jobs. At least you had someone help you sort out what you want, Hiraya said to him when she asked him about his past relationships.

A small hand pinching his cheek pulled Harvey out of his thoughts, seeing his son happily put his hand on his face repeatedly. Seconds later, a small chirping sound coming from the door caught their attention. “They’re looking for you, honey. Odd that they like being around you considering you can’t even understand what they are saying,” said Hiraya as she walked through the doorway.

Daniel’s face lit up as he saw the junimos following his mother, while a handful was clinging to her. “Any news from your friend, the wizard, about why I can see them?”

“No,” Hiraya sighed, placing a green junimo on Harvey’s shoulder, “though he strongly believes it’s because you’ve been exposed to magic the longest. He also mentioned that Grandpa’s place is one of the places that is potent with magic.”

A small “huh” was all that Harvey could manage. The green junimo, who was quietly sitting on his shoulder, used his mustache to cling over to his right shoulder. Surprisingly, the junimo seemed to weigh like a feather, though he still grabbed the clinging junimo and placed it on top of his head. Hiraya, who was watching all of this unfold, tried to stifle a laugh while Daniel giggled at his father’s predicament. “You stay there, and please hold still,” he mumbled.

For a moment, the subtle ruckus happening outside of their house suddenly sounded pleasant. The sounds of their animals, the rustling of the leaves, splashes of water caused by the fish in their pond. All of it made Harvey flustered, his heart swelled with joy. This is all I ever wanted, Harvey mused. This is what I waited for all my life. To create my own family with the one I love. Finally, I’m home.

“I guess this will be our usual routine, don’t you think honey?” Harvey asked with a smile, breaking the silence that surrounded them. 

Looking at his wife, he noticed that Hiraya seemed to be thinking the same thing as him, as he was met with a gentle smile from her. “I guess it is.”

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #stardew valley harvey x oc #stardew valley oc #sdv oc

[augment-techs]

So I had an idea. Maybe Bulk and Skull have a secret meet spot in the World of the Coinless universe. It can be something fun like an arcade or maybe even a roller skating rink, and it brings up nostalgic memories of the past. If you want an extra punch, it can be something along the lines of "This is the last place I ever saw them genuinely smile." 👁️👁️

Twelve dead rabbits, a hundred chicken eggs of a dozen or more colors, six jars of honey, and some medicine for a variety of ailments that could have been brought to heel with the snap of fingers before everything went wrong.

In the dark of the roller rink that had been swallowed underground in one of the tremors similar to earthquakes when Rita set her monsters on the Rangers for the last time, they looked for all intents and purpose like the harvest of scurrying goblins, the theatrical pilfering of small dragons, or a small miracle of faerie for Bulk to stumble upon.

But...no. 

Once his eyes got used to the darkness only lightened by a kerosene lamp near the entrance he always came through--the window scraped and empty of glass for years now, covered and blocked by weeds and ivy and what little of nature that was stronger than the decay and rot--that was only lit during these meetings at the new moon, Bulk saw the hunched figure beside the offerings.

While time and training and growing into his role had given Bulk all the trappings and appearance of a slightly more svelte bear on two legs, Skull himself had only grown taller and thicker by degrees of the season. He had strong shoulders for carrying the world, yes, but whenever he was wrapped up around himself in the dark like this, Bulk could not help but think of that little boy he'd found crying alone in a park over a decade ago.

Not that Skull cried anymore. Not that Bulk had seen.

Can't cry when your emotions are frozen under a lake in what the Coinless assumed was a gussied up Hell that passed for a palace. Can't show emotions when you're trying to play a game with rules that only just held still but were always changing to the will of a psychopath.

Loping over to the figure that did not move but absolutely knew he was there, Bulk stood before him a moment to fish around inside his heavy coat's deep pocket, pulling out a threadbare mauve handkerchief wrapped tightly around the gift he'd brought along for this meetup.

It would have been nice to bring, more, with all the spoils Skull brought the Coinless like a magician's magician, but he also didn't want to upset Skull when he knew--like he always knew everything since undertaking...all of this--that they really couldn't afford to give him much of anything. Not in the winter, not in the summer, not even when it seemed as if food was in abundance in their underground hideouts where they had taken up proper farming and could almost seem to get away with the leavings.

There was too much risk; even if he was always hungry in some way.

Even though he would never feel hungry. Not in the way most people did.

Bulk sighed and thumped heavily down to take a seat beside his best friend, unwrapping the food he'd brought to split, and trying to smile like they were kids again instead of young men nearing their thirties that felt older than that by far.

"Hey, I brought a knish some of my girls made for their favorite uncle. It's mushroom, potato, and pork," he singsonged, breaking the filled bun in two and holding the bigger half out to Skull expectantly as he nibbled up a mushroom trying to break free from his own, "And it's still warm buddy, c'mon."

It took a moment, but the other did move from pressing his face to his knees, arms unwrapping and one leg stretching out so he could still perch his chin up without much effort.

He tried to smile as he took up the offering, but it wasn't nearly as convincing as like when the memory of the place they stood in was awake and alive, all light and music and the laughter of a hundred odd teenagers spinning around in circles underneath a mirror ball without a thought to school or parents; only nibbling on the varied fair behind the stalls, sipping soda they weren't allowed to take out onto the court when it had been polished smooth as glass.

Also there was a cluster of bruises and cuts across the brunt of the left side of his face, darker bruising along the side of his neck in the obvious shape of a hand. His bottom lip was split, so the half-hearted smile couldn't stretch and Bulk suddenly doubted adding so much salt to the meal was such a good idea.

"Would one of those girls be my little goddaughter? You did say you were finally letting her do the baking without supervision."

#boom! comics power rangers #mmpr #world of the coinless #Coinless Bulk #Red Sentry Skull #ask fill #prompt fill #trade fill #short version here; long version on AO3

[blackacre13]

Logan: there’s about 300 submissions in my inbox please chill you horny bastards

Me: omg I have another fascinating idea I just have to share

lmao I have a prompt that’s similar to the one from a while ago about Debbie being covered in Lou’s hickies: Debbie and Lou wake up after a particularly intense night together in which Debbie came really hard and when she takes a look at Lou the next morning she sees that she’s absolutely covered in scratches and bites that she left, so she begins to apologize but Lou actually finds it very hot.

And winner of best prompt format goes to... Lmao this made me grin. I am all for the horny bastard Loubbie prompts always.

“What’s that thing? That thing that’s like don’t drink from the rink,” Debbie laughed, trying to snap her fingers as if it would help her remember what she was trying to say in her tipsy state.

“I think you’re saying two things,” Lou snickered, licking the salt from the rim of her tequila glass as Debbie’s eyes grew wide.

“Two things? What are the two things?” Debbie grinned, watching the blonde’s tongue dart around the glass.

“I think you’re saying, don’t drink the kool aid, and get high off your own supply, but like, at the same time,” the blonde snorted, taking an ice cube out of the glass to suck on.

“You’re like, really, really smart, Lou. You know that right?” Debbie sighed dreamily, placing her hands under her chin as she looked at the other woman in awe.

“You’re just really, really tipsy,” Lou smirked. “And I know you, Ocean,” she shrugged.

“I think I’m drunk,” Debbie cackled before pausing as she gasped, suddenly looking disappointed. “I don’t want to be drunk,” she mumbled, looking down at her empty glass with a frown.

“And why’s that?” Lou teased. “Something on your mind? Think I might do something for you when we leave this bar?”

“Something to me maybe,” Debbie whispered, looking up at the blonde shyly as her cheeks blushed. “I want you to Fuck me, baby.”

“Debs,” Lou groaned, her own cheeks flushing as her belly stirred. She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before she considered the brunette with a serious look. “How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough that I’ll tell you to Fuck me in a bar,” Debbie announced, her hand snaking up Lou’s thigh. “Not drunk enough that you’d feel guilty about taking advantage.”

“You want me to Fuck you, Debs?” Lou whispered, leaning into the brunette as Debbie lips found Lou’s neck.

“Right here. Right now,” Debbie hissed.

Barely even a minute later, Lou had Debbie pressed up against a stall door in the bathroom with her hand inside her panties, Debbie’s dress riding up between them as she let out a deep moan, neither very much aware of their surroundings at all and unsure, several orgasms between them later, how they’d ended up back in their apartment with Debbie slammed against the wall and Lou on her knees, the bedroom too far a destination from the foyer.

Flashes of kissing and touching and biting and scratching and moaning and Fucking and cursing and…

“Baby?” Debbie yawned. “God, my Fucking head. We definitely are gonna need some—oh shit.”

“Debs?” Lou asked, her face turning to sheer panic as she took in Debbie’s concerned face looking back at her.

“Lou, baby, I—Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Lou laughed, rolling onto her side as she propped herself up against her pillow. “Honey, when I tell you that last night felt so damn good, that isn’t even the half of—“

“Lou,” Debbie whispered, her finger trailing down the blonde’s chest as she looked at Lou’s skin in horror, the blonde’s blue eyes following her movements before meeting Debbie’s own again, her lips twisting into a smirk.

“Debbie,” Lou smirked, her voice dropping as she shook her head laughing. “Debbie, did you think I’d be mad? This is…god, this is beyond Fucking hot. Knowing I have scars from your nails dragging all over me. Bruises. Bites. Hickeys. You won’t ever hear a complaint from me. I mean, wait.”

“What?” Debbie gasped, crawling towards the blonde as her face returned to its previously panicked state.

“You missed a spot,” Lou whispered, arching her neck as she tried to lean forwards towards Debbie’s lips.

#queue #blackacre13 #ocean's eight #oceans eight #oceans 8 #ocean's 8 #ocean's eight fanfic #ocean's eight fanfiction #ocean's 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 fanfiction #lou miller #Debbie ocean #young Loubbie #Loubbie #heist girlfriends #heist wives #Lou Miller x Debbie ocean #lou x debbie #Debbie x lou #lou and debbie #Debbie and lou #lou and deb #deb and lou #lou x deb #deb x lou #Debbie Ocean x lou miller #o8 fanfic #o8 fanfiction

[noctumbra]

𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒆

summary ─ after a busy day what would you do other than having a couple drinks? ah, yes, you’d agree to spend a night with one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen and whom you only know his name. perfect, wasn’t it?

pairing ─ stepdad!bucky barnes x reader 

warnings ─ smut, +18, heavy age gap (reader is in her early 20s, bucky is in mid 40s), dom!bucky (light), kissing, oral sex, fingering, one night stand, dirty talk, pet names, cheating/infidelity

a/n ─ hello :D hope y’all like it sdgfsdjshd please leave a comment if you do! thank you so much!!! <33

It was a Friday, and you left school an hour ago only to perch yourself on top of a stool at a bar, asking for a glass of whiskey. It was a particularly intense day; professors demanding a lot shit from you and telling you to get them done if you wanted your master’s, you were going insane slowly, you thought. Sometimes you regretted your choice to get your master’s, but it was what you wanted, so you were grinding as hard as you could.

Sighing, you thanked the bartender when he placed your drink in front of you. The guy smiled at you and walked towards another customer. You took a sip, relishing the burn of the delicious drink, you hummed. It was funny how a sip of a drink that burned your throat while going down could make you feel relaxed already.

“Hello.”

You opened your eyes and swallowed the rest the drink you’ve been keeping in your mouth. Putting the glass where the bartender placed in front of you, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice had belonged to a very handsome guy. He had a navy blue suit on him with first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, no tie. He had blue-gray and beautiful eyes; his hair had whites and grays peppered in it just like his faint stubble. He must be in his forties, you thought as a smile spread over your lips. His lips mimicked yours as he, too, smiled at you.

“Hi,” you murmured. The guy’s smile widen just a little. He placed his empty glass on the counter and signaled another one.

“May I join you?” He asked. His voice was smooth, had right amount of deepness in it. He would sound great if he were to read stories at a radio station, you thought and frowned slightly. That was a weird thought.

“Um, sure,” you said, shuffling on your seat. “Of course.” The guy sent you another blinding smile, and you had to ignore the back flip your stomach did. He gracefully slid into the stool right next to yours and extended his hand.

“James,” he introduced himself. Feeling your face heating up under his intense gaze, you held his hand, shaking slightly.

“Y/N,” you said, and James hummed. The bartender gave James his drink, thanking the guy when he tipped him. “What made you want to join me?” You asked without missing a beat. James chuckled softly into his drink.

“You looked tired, maybe a little desperate for something different,” he murmured. His voice was so soft, you could fall asleep if he were to talk to you like that at a place where there was no one but you two. Oh. “I also wanted to come up to you and see if I could get you to agree to spend a night with me.”

You barely managed not to choke on the sip you took. “Spend a night with you?” You asked, eyebrows raised and you had a surprised look on your face. James nodded.

“That is if you want to, of course, I’m not here to push you into something you don’t want to,” James said, sipping his own drink. “Honestly, I need something more relaxing than a drink.”

You frowned slightly. You agreed on that because, yes, you needed something more relaxing than this damn drink in your hand. Your body had been tight and tensed as hell for a while now, and one of the most handsome guys you’ve ever seen was offering you to spend a night with him. It surely felt too good to be true. You were going to take it, though, just in case if you woke up or something. At least, you’d have one hell of a sex dream.

“Alright,” you said, “Okay, I’ll spend a night with you.” You nodded and finished your drink. “You better make me come, though,” you added. The chuckle you received was dark and filled with promise. You were loving this already.

“Don’t worry, honey,” James says with a dark tone. The intensity in his gaze increased, and you shivered. “I’ll make you body sing.”

───

A loud moan echoed in the fancy hotel room, and your back arched into James’ mouth around your nipple. His tongue was wet and hot and teasing your nipple in a way that you’ve never experienced─

“Ah, fuck!” Crying out, you gasped when his teeth grazed the sensitive and swollen flesh in his mouth. His fingers were assaulting your pussy and your clit; you felt your body vibrating violently. Swallowing your spit before it threatened you to choke, you widened the stance of your legs in a way of begging him to move onto the next step.

James chuckled.

“No,” he said simply, pulling off your breast. You panted. Your clothes were ground, discarded carelessly, while James was still in his suit, only his jacket was off and hanging on the corner of an armchair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; he was letting you see the tattoos he had on his forearms.

“Please,” you whine when his thumb started its ministrations on your clit. “God, please, James, please!” Your back arched against the ceiling when you felt his tongue joining his fingers in your pussy. This time choking on your spit, your mouth opened for a silent scream.

“Taste so damn good,” James murmured against your pussy, his voice sending vibrations that had you bucking against his face. James fidgeted in his place, rubbing his hard dick on the bed, he groaned. “Touch yourself,” he ordered as he straightened. You bit your lip and complied. Your fingers found your throbbing clit and you started to rub it slowly. Moaning, your head fell back and your eyes closed. Your fingers were rubbing your clit fast, now. Your other hand’s fingers were playing with your nipple that James didn’t get a chance to put his mouth on.

“Fuck,” James whispered at the sight before him and fumbled with his suit pants. His belt came off easily and he quickly undone the button, pulled down the zipper and got rid of both his pants and boxers in one go. Taking his shoes off in the meantime, he pulled his shirt off, too. He grabbed his wallet, fished out a condom and hastily put it on. Usually, he would be calm and collected at these kinds of things, but something about you made him feral.

Climbing on the bed, James found his spot between your spread legs. Your fingers were inches away from his hard cock, playing with your wet as fuck pussy. James rumbled a groan deep in his chest as he hastily flicked your fingers away and replaced them with his own. His calloused fingers collected your juices, spread them all over the tender flesh of your pussy and his thumb pressed down on your clit, feeling it throb slightly.

You cried out in pleasure. You were so close, so damn close, you just wanted to come. Your body was taut with how close your orgasm were to take over your body, and James chuckled. He knew exactly how you feel, could feel it with the tips of his fingers.

“D’you wanna come, baby?” He hummed, his huge body was leaning over yours; caging and covering and clouding your senses perfectly. You whimpered as you nodded vigorously. “Come then,” James commanded. “Come now, and I’ll make you come twice more before we call it a night. Then, I’ll fuck you in the morning and give you two more, hm? Whaddaya say?”

Your whimpers turned into gasps. Your legs were quivering on both sides of James, and you felt your eyes rolling backwards as your back arched and you came on James’ fingers. You could hear James growling and murmuring approving praises here and there, but he sounded like he was far away. Your ears were howling, your body felt tingly all over and your mind was drifting totally different place; you knew it.

Smiling dopily, you made grabby hands towards James. He chuckled lightly as he dropped almost all of his body bulk over yours and pressed kisses all over your neck and face. You hummed happily.

“In me,” you whined. “You promised me more orgasms, in me.”

James groaned and nicked your neck. Without saying anything, he grabbed his hard cock and ran it through your folds once and twice and third time until he had you whimpering beneath him. Then, he braced himself on the headboard, his cock slipping in your slick heat; James threw his head back to moan loudly.

“Oh, sugar, fuck,” James whispered raggedly. “Your lil’ kitty squeezing the life outta me, shit.” You hummed again as you tightened around him intentionally. James gasped; losing the hold he had on the headboard, he fell onto elbows. He panted into your neck for a couple seconds before he started to move. He fidgeted on his knees, getting his thighs against yours more, he bent your legs towards your chest with his body. You looked small under him in that position. You felt small and you loved it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in. As soon as James’ lips found yours, you let out a small moan which he swallowed happily. His hips were moving, slow and sensual movements first, stroking your walls all deep and beautifully.

He wanted to fuck you like this: deep and slow thrusts, stealing all the breathy little noises you make whenever he grazed some place sensitive in you while being this close.

He was too keyed up for that, though.

Snarling, James’ hips quickened the pace. His heavy and full balls were hitting your now-wet flesh, making obscene sounds as he slammed into you, you moaned. His cock was big: the length was just a little bit above-average but the girth he had─ whew. He was filling you so good was what you focused on at the end.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, “James, holy shit, James!” Your body shook with the force of his thrusts. His hips were slamming against yours almost painfully, but the pleasure his cock was giving you clouded the pain away.

“Yeah,” he moaned with a raspy voice. “Yeah, princess, gimme, c’mon.” His hot breath was washing over the sensitive skin of your neck, his stubble was rubbing against the same skin and his lips were closed around your earlobe. You whimpered as you tossed your head back. You could feel his orgasm creeping closer by the twitch of his cock in you and the tightening of his abs against your belly. You wanted him to come so hard that it’d make him lose it. Moaning at the thought, you grabbed him even tighter, pulled him closer and you dug your nails on his muscled back.

“Unnh,” you gasped and moaned and whimpered at the same time. “Come in me,” You begged. “God, fuck, come in me, please!”

You heard him snarl first and then, a growl made its way out of his chest. His hands grabbed your thighs and bent them even more against your chest. The pistoning motions of his hips got delirious, faster, quicker─ desperate. Biting your lip, your dragged your nails down, leaving angry red lines on his meaty back and whimpered once again.

“Please,” you begged. You knew he was right there, and you weren’t far from where he was. “I wan’it. Please, come in me, please─”

With a loud gasp, James came. His cock twitched in you madly, his thighs squeezed around your hips and his balls jerked. The twitch of his cock and tightened grasp of his hands pushed you over the edge for a second time that night, and you cried out, burying the noise in James’ skin by biting him on the shoulder, hard.

It took both of you some time to come down from your mind-blowing orgasms. It took you a little longer to re-gain the muscle feeling of your body although you still felt tingly and blissed the fuck out.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. You heard him chuckle.

“Holy shit, indeed,” he agreed with amusement present in his voice. He sat up and disposed the condom, ditching it into the trash. You lay on the bed, senseless, and listened to him going around in the bathroom. A minute later he came out with a wet cloth on his hand, helping you clean up roughly.

“Thanks,” you murmured, shying away from him all of a sudden. James smiled. He really was the most handsome and pretty guy you’ve ever seen. He winked at you cheekily, leaning over for a kiss.

“Wanna join me in the shower? I was thinking we could order some room service and get some of the calories we lost in the past hour.” You chuckled, already getting up. James held out his hand, and you grabbed it, smiling at him.

“Sure, why not?” You agreed.

Later, you realized that you would agree to almost anything when it came to James.

────

    Two Weeks Later

You sighed as you collected your papers on the kitchen table where you’ve been abusing yourself to study for the past two hours. Your brain was refusing to focus on the papers, focus on studying, and kept reminding you of that guy from the bar. The guy who fucked you senseless, ripped two orgasms in one round only and then pulled four more; two in round two and two more in the morning just like he promised he would. You had spent such a nice time with him and have been secretly hoping that you’d see him again, so you kept going to the bar.

He never showed up.

Although you tried not to let it get you too much, you couldn’t help but feel a sting on your chest. You wanted to see him again, wanted to spend time with him. You knew that even only talking with him would make you feel better,  you didn’t need to have sex, but he never showed up.

So, you tried to move on, to forget him, but it seemed a bit impossible since your brain kept reminding how amazing that one night you spent with him once in every two hours.

Sighing once again, you stood from the table with your papers and folder in your hand. Your mother said that she was going to have a guest joining you tonight, for a dinner. It was almost 7PM now, your mother and her guest would be at home in ten minutes, you thought.

The food was ready, your mother cooked it last night and you helped with the dessert. You hoped the guest liked cherry since you made a cherry pie. The house was clean; you made sure that everything was normal and there was nothing they shouldn’t have seen around.

After changing into a nice, maroon colored, long-sleeved dress from your sweatpants and t-shirt you moved back into the kitchen. You were in the middle of getting the table ready when you heard your mother talking in the doorway.

“She must be home,” your mother was saying and you smiled as you made your way to the door and open it before she could ring the bell. “Ah! There she is! Hello, sweetie!” She quickly pulled you into a hug and gave you kisses. You kept the door open as she walked inside and invited her guest inside. “Come on! Don’t be shy. I promise she won’t bite.” Your mother chuckled as you rolled your eyes at her joke. You would bite if it was necessary, you wanted to say but kept it to yourself.

You heard a familiar chuckle at first and then, he walked inside.

James.

Oh, shit, you thought as you felt your stomach doing flips in your body.

“Hello,” he said quietly. His beautiful blue-gray eyes were carrying a mischievous glint in them as he smiled shyly at you. “I’m James, but everyone who’s close to me calls me Bucky.” He extended his hand out to you, and you took it, surprised.

“Y/N,” you murmured. You could see your mother smiling happily at you two.

“Ah, Y/N,” she said, “I wish I told you this earlier, but I didn’t know we would take this way, it happened rather quickly,” she continued. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while, now, and… Bucky just… asked.” You frowned as you pulled your hand free from his grasp.

“What do you mean he just asked? Asked what?” Your mother’s smile turned a bit dopey as she held James’ hand.

“Y/N, my sweet babygirl, I want you to meet my fiancé, James Barnes.”

Fiancé.

You fucked your soon-to-be-stepfather two weeks ago.

Fuck.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #stepdad!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #stepdad!bucky #wicked tongue #bucky barnes au #daddy bucky

[goldengoddess]

hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh

will you marry me - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)

warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)

kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.

but he knew you.

and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.

so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.

so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you. 

you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate. 

you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away. 

you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.

you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”

he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”

you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”

the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up. 

and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you. 

later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight. 

“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”

you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful. 

he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”

his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?

before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals. 

you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you. 

you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall. 

kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job. 

“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you. 

so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp. 

you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”

but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand. 

“angel” he started speaking

“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”

he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”

another gasp on your part. 

he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”

you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.

you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”

you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him. 

after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”

“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly. 

“even marry me?”

“especially marry you.” 

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods

if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #six of crows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #six of crows imagine #grisha #nina zenik #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone imagine

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #two shot #one shot #defending jacob #dark fic #dark!fic #irl

[anotheranimestan]

Steamy Nights

Shouta Aizawa steaminess + suggestive language

Please note that y/n is obviously of age in this one

wc: 2.4k

Tell me why I got 🦋 when writing this loll. This man is fineee

Stretched out on Aizawa’s couch, you were waiting for him to get home after another long day of teaching. A little while ago he’d given you a key to his place, which was a big surprise since he values his privacy so much. Since you hadn’t been able to see him for a few days, you figured tonight would be the perfect time to use it. Work was really taxing on him lately and you knew he was stressed. Probably over stressed. To make the most of the night, you decided to set the atmosphere.

The apartment already had Shouta’s personality all over it. Lots of dark furniture and wood. Absolutely no harsh lighting, just a few dim lamps. His walls were scattered with some paintings he’d bought on your art show dates together. Old books and blankets everywhere. His sweet cat usually curled up in her corner.

He had a drawer full of scented candles. Your favorite was the cinnamon one but he claims it’s too sweet for him. Although you highly doubted he’d even notice the difference, he just holds random stubborn opinions sometimes without any good reason behind it. Just wanting things to complain about. Most people found his pessimistic grumpy attitude unattractive but...he’s just moody. An exterior shell. Inside was was soft and sweet.

You’d just finished lighting a few of the cinnamon candles and putting on some of his favorite music in the background when you heard the door click open.

He’s always so light on his feet. Sometimes if you weren’t paying close attention he’d come in and scare the life out of you on accident.

You rounded the corner, excited to see him.

“Hey Eraserhead.”

You always called him by is pro name when he’s in his hero costume. People usually assumed it was out of respect or privacy but he knew the real reason. You were teasing him. You disliked his hero name and his hero outfit. Recalling the day Present Mic convinced him to use it, you’d pestered him relentlessly to put more effort into it. Insisting he’d regret it one day. He said he didn’t care...but now look at him.

“Please y/n, when are you going to stop calling me that?” He said rubbing his eyes. He was low energy as usual.

“After you change it.”

“I can’t change it.”

“Exactly.” You whispered smugly.

He sighed. No matter how many times you had this conversation you would always win. Rightfully but he wouldn’t admit it.

You drifted over to greet him properly. Brushing the hair out of his eyes and placing a sweet lingering kiss on his cheek.

And as for his boring, baggy costume...you understood it’s purpose. He wore it to stand out less, aiding in his fight style. But it was still a pain since you couldn’t properly hug him in it. The capture weapon was always in your face and you could hardly feel his body through the layers.

His modest attire duped most people. Making his tastefully well built body underneath a best kept secret. Which you supposed was an upside. Only you (and Present Mic for some reason) had ever really gotten to see him shirtless.

“I’m going to change.” He said kissing your forehead. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

He reemerged from his room a few minutes later. Wearing a droopy black shirt and sweatpants that were loose around his hips. You could see the dipped lines of his V. Just north was his lightly defined six pack. And just south was unfortunately concealed under black briefs and his untied waistband...

He caught you staring.

Feeling red and exposed you quickly redirected your attention to something else. “So are you hungry babe? I could make something?”

He declined.

“Okay...what about grading assignments. Do you want help to make it go faster?”

Declined again. Apparently he worked straight through lunch to finish that already.

You were beginning to feel useless. You’re supposed to be making him de-stress but it’s like he was so self-sufficient there was no room for you.

You sat next to him on the couch, his arm wrapped around you. You brushed some hair behind his ear. His long dark hair was always messy from his constant naps. Plus, you constantly running your fingers in it doesn’t help that situation. He was quiet. Massaging his temples. You could see the tension on his face. It made your heart twinge with pain. Just then you noticed his ear fully. He had at least six piercings on this one but he wasn’t wearing any of his earrings. Usually he’d put them on when he wasn’t at work but he didn’t tonight. And you knew exactly why.

“Babe. I have an idea.”

“And what’s that?” He played along.

He would take them out when he secretly wanted one of your amazing head massages. You always focus on his ears and temples just like he liked so he’d left out his earrings hoping you’d get the hint. This man could never just ask for something in his life. Luckily you could read him like a book.

“Come on.” You purred. Pulling him with both hands off the couch. He complied wearily.

Aizawa didn’t spend much of the money he made from pro hero work on lavish things. The only times he splurged was to buy you nice gifts. However, you did convince him to purchase one nice thing for himself. You knew he wanted it anyways but was just too stubborn to actually buy it.

A jacuzzi tub. He loves hot baths after a day of dealing with his “problem children” students. It was the only thing that could get his muscles to relax. And the moisture from the steam felt nice on his eyes.

Making sure to bring a candle and the speaker with, you lured him into the bathroom.

“Want to take a bath with me?” You asked sweetly.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” A tiny smile spread on his lips. You were too irresistible to deny.

“Okay you run it and I’ll go get the wine.” You sang excitedly. “But don’t make it so hot. You almost burnt my skin off last time.”

“It felt normal to me.” He said casually.

“Yea because you’re a psychopath.” You quipped before springing to the kitchen.

You guys had two types of favorite wine. One was for your long deep discussions about art and literature. Or when asks for your advice on dealing with his students because he knows he’d just lose his temper and expel them without your ideas. And the other, the pricier and far more potent one, was saved for special moments. Just like these. You poured your glass full, of course, but you filled his to the tippy top. Not only did he need it, but Lord knows tipsy Aizawa was sexy.

When you returned, he was crouched over testing the water temperature. His face gently lit from the soft glow of the candle in the dark room.

“I made sure to cool it off. No psychopaths here.” He teased trying to sound bored. But his voice was noticeably happier than when he’d arrived.

You instructed him to take a few sips of wine, desperate to get that show rolling.

“I know what you’re doing.” He said with an amused little smile. He swapped the cups in your hands so you now claimed the full one.

“Good. So then you should know exactly how to play along.” You said as you switched the glasses back with a wink.

He sighed in defeat. But that rare smile was still adorning his cheeks. He took a few y/n-approved size drinks.

His hair was falling into his eyes again. You set your glass down on the tub edge and pulled him into you. He wrapped his arms around your waist while you pushed his hair back and secured it in a clip.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” He said softly.

“I know. Now that I have a key I wanted to come bother you a bit.”

His eyebrow raised at the word bother.

You panicked slightly. Hoping he wasn’t actually bothered that you’d come uninvited.

“That does sound like you.” He said as he kissed your nose. “I hope you do it more often.”

Your heart spasmed.

“Really? You do?” Your insecurities ears’ perked up.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” He said in his deep sleepy voice.

A happy little smile broke its way through. You could only shrug in response.

You slipped your hands under his shirt and pulled it up slowly. Dragging your knuckles along the dips and bumps of his abs as you went. Gently you pulled it over his head. He helped by raising his arms which just made the rest of his muscles flex. Your heart started beating a little faster. No matter how many times you saw him he always made you flustered.

Your eyes were glued on him. His tattoos were now completely visible. Another best kept secret. They trailed around his shoulder, back and half his chest. You placed some honeyed kisses on his collar bones as you pulled down his sweatpants and briefs to leave him fully undressed. He was mouthwatering type sexy. The candlelight was highlighting all his high points in the best possible way. The music was perfectly complimenting your emotions and the sleepy eyes staring at you so lovingly were severely compromising your thought process. There were a lot of things you wanted to do with him suddenly but you focused your eyes on the goal here. A relaxing, hot bath.

Bath bath bath.

Reluctantly containing yourself you pried his hands off your waist and nudged him towards the water.

“Okay okay, go on.”

“You’re coming too right?” He said as he grazed your bottom lip with his thumb.

You nodded, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

He laid down in the water and took some more large swigs of wine. His glass was half empty before you’d even taken your first sip. He watched you undress with intent in his eyes, soaking in every curve and dip of you as well. He reached an arm out to you once you’d fully unclothed. He wanted his hands on you immediately.

But you had a goal here. Bath. Massage. Focus.

You slipped in behind him so that he laid between your legs. His broad shoulders nearly covered your whole body when he leaned back against you.

The tub was huge. Easily fit you both and could probably add another person.

“And now for my favorite part.” You announced as you switched the tub on its low setting. The rumbling under the water sending tiny vibrating waves around the whole tub.

Definitely worth spending his money.

Your hands rubbed every inch of him you could reach. His abs, the thick muscular sides of his waist, his biceps. You alternated between hugging his neck whispering cute things in his ear and massaging him.

Of course he was practically falling asleep as you spent time on his ears and temples. His head was heavy against your chest. It was so cute. You loved when he fell asleep on you.

But you knew he was keeping himself awake. He was rubbing your legs and the backs of your thighs. Squeezing and kneading them gently. Placing kisses on your arms and hands whenever he got the chance.

After about 20 minutes and one refresh of hot water, both your glasses were empty. He’d drank most of it since he’d downed the last few sips of yours too.

Wanting to see his handsome face again you shifted and positioned yourself to sit on his lap, thighs wrapped snuggly around his waist. After making sure you were fully comfortable, he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. He pulled you close and trailed circles with his fingertips up and down your back under the warm water. He loved the weight of you on him. You both exhaled a deep stress relieving breath.

The steam was working its magic, the rumbling of the jets felt so good massaging your legs. And his heart beat, you could feel it through his chest. It was slow and steady. Making you drowsy off him.

He noticed you were lost in thought, stroking his hair and tracing your fingers along the lines of his tattoo. He took advantage of this time to soak in all your features, watching you under drooping lashes. The flush of your cheeks, the delicate arrangement of your beauty marks. The far off expression on your face, he knew it well. He loved observing you when you were like this. You were beautiful.

“Relaxed yet?” You purred. Starting to tease him with soft kisses.

“Almost there.” He replied before catching you to deepen the kiss. Your soft skin and body heat was melting him away. He wanted more. Using both hands he pressed your back into it.

He savored your lips for a long while, becoming more and more passionate as the seconds ticked by and the wine hit his bloodstream.

You felt him shifting underneath you. Squirming slightly from the pressure that was building up. More butterflies. His hands clamped down around your hips.

“Okay your plan worked.” He smiled into your kiss. Eyes still closed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re referring to.”

He tapped his finger against the empty wine glasses.

You started sucking on the sensitive spot under his ear. You knew tipsy Shouta always got turned on by that.

His arms both constricted tightly around your waist. His hips were pressing up into you now with impatience.

“Let’s go to my room.” He concluded. You giggled, causing your lips to vibrate against his sweet spot. You heard the soft moan from deep in his throat.

He stood up keeping you wrapped tightly around him, carrying you with ease.

He half-heartedly patted you both down with a towel, his hand not losing contact with your ass for a second.

Before he could whisk you out of the bathroom you grabbed the speaker and candle again.

The scent wafted into the air around you.

“Mm that smells good.” He said distracted for only a moment before his lips gravitated to your body again.

“Oh really. So you do like it.” You said with the smuggest tone. “You’ll never guess what scent it is Shouta.”

He didn’t reply. Too distracted with kissing your shoulders.

“Cinnamon.” You said with as much sass and emphasis as you could muster.

He paused. Caught. How did you always get him like this?

He pulled back rolling his eyes with a smile. Nose to nose now, you pressed him further with a smirk.

He cocked an eyebrow at you. Looking directly in your eyes he said, “Mhm. Keep this same energy when I take you in there.”

And just like that he’d knocked down your resolve and your whole body started fluttering.

He carried you into his bed and you two “relaxed” for the rest of the night.

~~

😳 the way I want to be y/n.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa imagine #aizawa fluff #aizawa smut #aizawa headcanons #aizawa x you #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #aizawa sexy #aizawa sensei #aizawa fanart #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa drabble #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa angst #shouta aizawa x reader #mha shouta #shouta fluff

[buckybarnesdiaries]

heaven

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you're the author lemme know your @.

bucky barnes x fem!reader x sam wilson

⎢ masterlist.

word count: 1.781.

warnings/tags: NSFW, +18!!! threesome, fingering, unprotected sex, language, mention of bodily fluids.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

You weren't drunk enough to blame alcohol for letting Sam invade your mouth with his expert tongue. The music outside of the random room you found maintained you with your feet on reality somehow, to not think it was a dream. A good dream. Even if you were focused on the way he was making you feel and the heat he was causing between your legs to burn down your soul, Bucky's fingers rolling the dress' straps by your arms until it fell to the floor kept your attention on him too. From one second to another, you were naked among the only two men you desired in your life —your boyfriend and his new best friend.

You couldn't help but moan pleased when they pressed you against their bodies and Bucky's huge hands made their way to your hard nipples. He squeezed your breasts slowly, delighting himself with every touch and the sound of every gasp dying on Sam's tongue, still dominating yours masterfully. You ran out of breath at the feeling of their rock dicks being rubbed to your ass and pussy respectively. You were in heaven between those two men.

“Tell him what you want, doll”. Your boyfriend murmured hoarsely into your ear, touring the shape of it with his teeth, causing you goosebumps all around.

“Ca— Can you…? Fuck…” You whined through your parted lips when Bucky dug his incisors in your shoulder. “Sam… I… I wan— want yo— shit… I've fantasized of you… fuckin— fucking me with your fingers”.

“That's what you want, uh?” He inquired rhetorically, pawing your sides roughly as one of his hands toured your right thigh straight to your cunt barely covered by a thin thong. Soaked.

“Please…” You begged, placing your arms around his neck.

Sam licked his lips, not needing to look at Bucky for permission. What you didn't know is that ten minutes ago they had a conversation on the terrace to make that happen. No one could deny that you'd die for Bucky's love. He was everything you had, and you were everything he had. But, when both of them appeared in your house really fucked after a mission, you started to feel some kind of desire for Sam. Only desire. Your heart was occupied with your boyfriend.

You came back from your thoughts as soon as the second man recently involved moved the small string aside. He played and teased your folds using the fingertip of his index digit, making you toss your head back to Bucky's left shoulder. Your boyfriend drunk delighted the crying you uttered inevitably when Sam slammed his finger into your tight walls, clenching around him. While the soldier was being all sweetness and delicacy, kissing you slowly, the pilot started to fuck you hard adding a second curled finger. And God blessed the loud music outside to cover your wrecked moans and your pleads.

“Does Sam make you feel good, doll?” Bucky purred with his eyes fixed on yours, watching you gasp in sync with the palm crashing violently against your pussy.

The three of you knew you hadn't much time to be disappeared before someone suspected, and the fierce pace of thrusts to your g-spot had you shivering under Bucky's grip.

“Oh, fuck, Sam”. You sobbed, not being able to form a proper sentence.

As your boyfriend guided his lips to your neck —sucking a hickey there to mark his forever-territory—, the pilot was back to attack your mouth. Your fingers were tightly nailed to the back of his head, starting to rock your hips looking for more friction against their sensible cocks. The grunts coming from them filled the room.

“Shit… you're gonna make me cum in my pants”. Sam growled, landing his free hand in your ass, squeezing it and forcing you to move it faster against Bucky's dick, being a bundle of moans dying on your neck.

“Got'a better idea…”

As you heard your boyfriend chuckling petty onto your ear with his orbs fixed on the dark ones of his friend, you knew they were going to ruin you.

“Listen to me now, doll. 'M gonna leav—”.

“Plea— Please, Bucky, don't”. You whined, not knowing how much you could handle the way Sam was impaling you by adding a third finger, making you cover your mouth with a hand or the whole compound would hear you.

“I can wait for you”. He hummed, turning your face towards his. “But I wan'you to show him how good you make me feel… And I'll give you a reward later”.

You were conscious that it didn't matter the times you begged him to stay, they had made a decision before coming into that room and that was what was going to happen. Bucky placed one last kiss full of love and tender at the moment Sam gave a break to your abused cunt, and you watched him leave after checking there wasn't anybody around, placing well his jeans in the zone of his bulge crotch.

“We can't stop if you don' want to continue”. Sam mumbled then, holding your hand to bring you closer.

You were panting trying to recover your breathing, pouting at him inevitably. As soon as Bucky left you alone, you felt a slap of reality and insecurities straight to your face. And he noticed it, gently wrapping your lower back with his arms since your legs were shaking and too weak to stand by themselves.

“Look at me”. He asked you then, showing you a fleeting smile barely curving up his lips. “Bucky wants it and I do too. But it only matters if you want or not. This… This is like a test, alright? You try and if you like, and if you want, we'll repeat. Bucky, you and I”.

You nodded hardly swallowing, sure that you'd make it up to your boyfriend later. You weren't in love with Sam, only with Bucky and you needed to demonstrate it to him. You glanced at the pilot unzipping his pants to pull them down along his boxers, letting his painful erection spring free to his abdomen still covered by the white shirt he was wearing. Your right hand gripped his sensitive skin, licking your lips at the sight, pumping his glorious dick slowly, as Sam made you walk backward to the immaculately done bed. He sat first, not being in need of telling you what you had to do next.

He watched you pull down by your thighs your black thong till it was thrown on the floor, before heading to his lap and sitting on it. Sam's cock was thick and long, pretty similar to Bucky's, so you knew it will cost you a second to fit your clenching and abused cunt around him, but you were too anxious for being fucked by him that you didn't care. You practically bounced on Sam, ramming his hardness into you beyond your limits. He was fast enough to make you drown the loud cry out in his mouth, crashing his lips on yours.

He filled you completely, gripping his hands in your hips slightly painful to urge you to move, to dance your body. And you did it with nothing but whines and gasps.

“You're so… tight, baby girl”. Sam grunted rolling his eyes white. “Oh, fuck…”

You still couldn't believe what was happening between those four walls. You were impaling your cunt once and once, with any mercy, using your boyfriend's best friend's dick. And you liked it. You loved it. Sam was making you feel really good. Not the same way Bucky used to do, but enough to put you to beg him for letting you cum. You needed it, and you wanted him to flood your guts too.

“Ple— Please… Please”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck, feeling the tears of pure desperation run down your cheeks.

“C'mon, my sweet girl… cream my dick…” He whispered with such a honeyed tone, almost hurting you by the way he had to nail tighter his fingertips in your buttocks. Painfully pleasurable.

You couldn't contain the orgasm anymore at his petition, looking for his mouth to invade yours again by using his tongue to drown the delighted scream he caused on you, while the ecstasy hit your body wildly. But Sam didn't stop from forcing you to keep jumping onto his twitching cock, pushing you down strongly and feeling him almost touching your stomach when his seed was spilled inside your clenching and glad abused pussy.

“For the fuc— fucking love of… God”. He roared in a broken tone of voice.

Your thighs were quivering at both sides of his legs, your lungs were emptied and your mind went completely blank.

Once you made sure to look like anything happened, you left the room before Sam —ashamed but satisfied—. Trying to walk normally, as your legs were still feeling weak, you looked for your boyfriend where he told you where he was going to be waiting for you. In the desolate kitchen. You glanced at Bucky sipping a glass of whisky, suddenly fading away your embarrassment and your insecurities with a smirk towards you, stretching his cold hand to hold yours and push you to his warm body.

“Did Sam fuck you good, uh?” He wanted to know humming, gently caressing your swollen and somewhat darker lips with his iron thumb. You nodded in silence, stealing the glass from his other hand to drink it in just one gulp.

“Can yo… Can you take me home?” You murmured in a plea, almost pouting at him.

“Hey, hey… Listen”. His tone changed in the blink of an eye from seduction to concern, placing his index finger under your chin. “You don' have to demonstrate me anythin'… God… I've never in my life felt so damn turned on than tonight… Watching you being fucked by Sam while you were looking at me…”

“You… You didn't leave bec—”.

Bucky interrupted you by freeing your hand from the glass, wrapping his left around your throat, and nailing the other in the center of your ass, directing his middle finger to that tight unexplored hole under your dress.

“I wan'to repeat, doll”. He purred in your ear, causing you to gasp against his by the pressure in your entrance. “I wan' Sam and I to fuck you at once… I wan' you to suck my dick —your dick— as he eats your sweet, little pussy… Fuck… Fuck, I'm hard only by imagining it, doll”.

“Buck…” You sobbed tightening your fingers in his shoulders. “Take me home… I beg you… Please”.

a / n: i'm thinking about turning this into a polyamorous relationship, and therefore into a series. what do you think?

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

tag list: @whatrambles @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @soldierstucky @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax @lieswithoutfairytales @angrybirdxx @clownerlyluv @kait-is-always-late @marvel-ousnesss @natashadeservedbetter @ebxny27 @fanofalltheficsx @spider-man-lover @masterlists101 @lewd-alien @warm-sensations @stealapizzamyheart @talk-on-the-street @theresnoplatypus

#bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader x sam wilson #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #bucky barnes smut #sam wilson smut #sam wilson fanfiction

[bloodcoveredwithwalls]

Content

Tags: Soft, soft, fluff, INSIDE era, gender neutral (any can read)!

Word Count: 2.7k 

You walk out of the kitchen with a glass of coffee. A spoon of sugar and enough milk. Just the way Bo likes it. Today though, he wanted it made for the evening, instead of his usual morning routine.

“Bo! Your coffee’s ready!” You scream up through the stairway.

“Coming!”

Running down the stairs was Bo, with a stack of clothes, some his, some yours. You recognize one of your favorite clothing on the pile in his hands.

“Excuse you, is that my flannel?” You ask, tugging on the cloth.

“Excuse me, and yes. Yes it is, honey.” He answers with his eyebrows raised and an awkward smile.

“Aaand, what is it for?”

“That, I may not be able to tell you now. But, come with me to the guesthouse today, will you? I’ll give you a sneak peak.” He says, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. No struggle of course, he was way taller than you.

You nodded, “Okie. Very exciting.” noticing your wool beanie in between the stack.

Bo’s been working on a new project. For at least a year now, he’s been planning on everything. The songs that’ll be in it, how it’ll be played out. Your living room, bedroom and even the kitchen has Bo’s notes and his notebooks scattered around. You’ve promised him long ago that you wouldn’t open or look into any of them. Of course, you didn’t, respecting and giving him his privacy.  

He stays in the guesthouse for hours a day. From morning to night, some days he would even sleep in the guesthouse. You’ve never been in there since he first went in to start his project. Never stepped close at all. Sometimes though, whenever you lay in bed at night, you swore you could hear him slamming the keys of his keyboard from afar, or maybe even him yelling at things.

You know he struggles with his own content. You’ve been through this quite often. He would sometimes come back to the house frustrated, unable to create something that he would like. Some days, he would come back crying, walking straight into your open arms and sobbing into your shoulder. And although you’ve offered to help, he shrugged it off and reassured you that he wants to try his best and work on it alone.

“You need anything else?” You asked as you follow behind him.

“At the moment, no. Oh, wait actually yes. You know my favorite pair of socks?”

“The one with the yellow bit at the end?”

“That’s the one. Thank you Y/N, honey.”

You place the coffee mug on the kitchen table and walked to your front door, where right next to it, is a little cabinet. You pull the top drawer open and looked for the socks, pulling pair after pair, until you found them.

“Found them!” You happily beamed. But as you look back to where Bo was last, he wasn’t there. You saw the sliding door leading to the backyard open , the gentle breeze greeting the kitchen and living room.

You closed the drawer and briskly walked to the kitchen to grab Bo’s coffee mug before stepping out through the door. You tiptoe through the cold grass, quickly making your way to the guesthouse.

Just as you were about to step into the room, Bo came out, quickly closing the door and stopping you in your tracks. He spread his arms out to cover the door. You looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Okay. Just a fair warning before you go in.  There’s a lot of random shit scattered around literally everywhere. So, don’t be too surprised. Or worried.” He smiles.

“Got it. Oh, and here are the socks. And coffee.” You throw back a smile at him. Managing a thumbs up with the pair of socks in your grip.

“Perfect. Thank you so much.”

He turns around and slowly pushing the door handle down his his left elbow, turning his head slightly to you with a shy smile on his face as you both enter into the guesthouse.

The lights were off, the room only illuminated by the sun peaking through the blinds. As you look around, you realize he wasn’t kidding at all. The floor was covered in different wires coming out from different directions. A camera on a tripod was set in the middle of the room, facing towards where you first entered. One of his keyboards was placed on its stand near the camera to a certain angle, while the other that Bo owns was on the floor, awkwardly propped up against the wall.

The desk and cabinet had different books and pieces of paper scattered on top, camera

“Alright, if you don’t mind, the sofa we have is where you can sit on for now. I know the room’s an absolute mess right now.”

He puts his hand out for you, and you grab onto him, slowly making your way to the sofa in the corner of the room with your eyes to the floor, making sure you aren’t stepping on any of the cables.

Bo sat down on the sofa, and pats on the empty space next to him, signaling you to sit. As you did so, you couldn’t leave your eyes off every corner of the room.

“So, this is it so far.”  He sighed.

“I don’t even know what most of all the stuff on the floor is for.” You said, waving your hands from the left to the right, framing what you’re seeing.

“Here, let me show you.” He stands up, walking towards on of the devices on the floor. As he stepped on one of the buttons on it, a bright purple light   projected from a panel near you and onto the right side of the wall.

He stepped on a different button, and this time the light projected to another direction from a different panel.

“Woah…” You muttered.

“Pretty cool right?”

“Very cool…” You said with your lips parted in awe.

He takes a sip of the warm coffee.  “And, tonight, I want you to be here as I record my very first step to my project.”

God, his smile could sweep you off your feet every, single, time. You were so proud of him, so happy to see him step out of his nest and finally work on something once again.  

You frantically nodded, not able to contain your excitement.

He took a sip of his coffee, “But. We might have to wait a bit, because I’ve gotta record this first bit in complete darkness.”

“You sure you want me to stay? I mean, I can wait back in the house.”

He placed his mug on the desk beside him and walked towards you. He reached his hand out and you placed yours in his.

“I haven’t been at home much for some time now. I only ever come back to sleep or to have dinner with you. And you’ve been the only person there for me throughout my process of making this.”

His blue eyes stay on yours. His voice is soft, very gentle, making sure you’re getting what he’s trying to say.

“And Y/N, it’s only fair that you get to be a part of it.”

Once again that smile of his is back. You can’t help but to jump up from your seat and hug him, landing your head on his chest. He froze for a second, hands spread apart with you in between. But in a second, he enveloped you in his warm embrace.

“I am so, so, so proud of you.” You said to him in a muffled voice, “I really am.”

He slowly releases you, and holds you by your shoulders. You notice he was a little teary eyed, his face softening from usual. You place a hand on his cheek and he rests on your hand, soon his left hand follows and holds your hand against his cheek.

“Let’s get ready shall we? I’ll help out with anything you need.” You said to him.

For the next two hours, you helped Bo get ready to record. He vaguely tells you what goes where, and you follow as instructed, moving his cameras around, testing it to see if it’s the way he wants it. Lights were moved around to different areas of the room, testing the way it shines onto him from different angles. You listened and watched as he tests his mic, adjusting how loud the audio output was gonna be, making different tracks to separate the instrumental track from his vocals. This was all a fascinating process for you.

Occasionally, you would have to leave the guesthouse to wait outside as Bo tests something out. He’d told you prior to getting ready that he wanted a few things to be a surprise to you when he starts recording. You were a sucker for his surprises. Anything that Bo’s ever made is a masterpiece to you, so, you’d be happy to wait outside to see what he’s done eventually.

It wasn’t long that you had to wait outside until finally, he opens the door to the guesthouse and tells you to come in. Even then, he covers your eyes to avoid you from looking around too much and spoiling the fun. He guides you back to the sofa, and after you’ve settled on your seat, he tells you to close your eyes.

“Keep them closed! No peeking!”

You hear his voice moving further away from you as he said so. Your curiosity grew, wanting to know where he’s going and what he was up to now.

“Okay, okay! Promise they’re closed!”

You covered your eyes with both hands, unable to hide your smile. You’ve never felt this excited for anything ever since the pandemic started.

“Okay, once I tell you to have them opened, I’ll have started recording by then. So, try your best to be as silent as possible.”

“Got it.” You manage a thumbs up with one hand, while the other now covers both your eyes.

You hear him shuffle around the room, a little “ow” coming out from him as he slaps something on. You didn’t recognize what it was. Then, you heard what you thought was the light switch being flicked. After hearing him shuffle around a for a bit more, he finally tells you to open your eyes from a distance.

“Okay, you can open them now, honey.”

You put your hands down and slowly opened your eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the suddenly dark room. Bo was sat on the chair you both set up, with the light shining to his right side. You guessed what he slapped on was the headlamp stretched around his head. You had a million ideas of what it might be for, but knowing Bo, it’s probably an idea you wouldn’t have thought of.

You pressed your bottom and top lip together and did a zipping motion from the left to the right. He smiled, holding his laugh in as to not mess up the shot. You shoot him a thumbs up and he returned it by blowing you kiss.

And he started. He pressed a few buttons on the keyboard of his laptop then sat back against his chair, relaxed and a little slouched. A catchy beat came from the speaker you helped him set up. Soon after, a few synths came in, making a tune. You sat, frozen to the sofa, only able to take in what's happening in front of you.

Bo was looking away from the camera before he slowly starts lifting the mic closer to his mouth, before starting to sing on cue.

“If you’d have told me, a year ago that I’d be locked inside of my home.” In between, a pre recorded audio of him singing came up before he continued singing live again.

“I would’ve told you, a year ago, “Interesting, now leave me alone.””

You were in awe. You love his deep voice. Finally hearing him sing to these new lyrics that he’d wrote over the past year felt so surreal. You smiled seeing how Bo bounces his leg to the beat of the song.

“Robert’s been a little depressed. No~”

You felt your heart sank at the line, but you kept your cool, not wanting to distract him. Although you were quickly able to calm down a little after hearing the bridge of the song come up. You couldn’t lie, it’s a catchy song.

Once you heard the build up to the chorus, you saw Bo reach his hand up to press a button on his headlamp.

“I’m sorry I was gone, but look I made you some content.”

Bo looked up and so did you, and your jaw dropped as the disco ball hung on the ceiling appeared to be spinning around, reflecting the light shining from his headlamp. The disco ball projected all the lights against the walls of the room, making it look so bright and interactive. You looked around the walls, seeing the lights dance on every single item in the room. You couldn’t hide the smile growing on your face, forgetting if Bo might get distracted by you.

“Daddy made you your favorite, open wide.”

You snap your gaze back at Bo after hearing that, loving how he added in that line to the song. He was concentrated as ever, maintaining a leveled eye contact to one point as not to move the light shining on the disco ball. He continues on, and you stare at him, smiling as you enjoyed the catchy tune.

“It’s a beautiful day to stay inside.”

He lowers the mic with the last line, and looks down into the camera, shining it with the headlamp. You squint your eyes, to try and look at him. The room went dark as he turns his headlamp off, leaving the room pitch black. He walked over to the light switch and flicked it on.

He catches your eyes, smiling wide at you.

You stand from the sofa, making happy little hops towards him.

“How did I not see the disco ball?” You ask in complete awe.

“That’s a bit of Bo’s magic.” He jokes, grinning at you as he takes of his headlamp, throwing it to the chair.

You hug him again, tight and proud. Happy that you were able to linger in the guesthouse and watch him take his first step into the project.

“So. What do you think?” He said, throwing a glance around the room then to you.

You cling on to him, a hand around his waist while you lean on his side.

“Absolutely incredible. Loved the song, loved the lighting, and definitely loved seeing you sing.”

“I need you to know this song’s for you. You’re the reason I’m able to start making content again. So, thank you so much.”

You place other hand on his chest, still leaning onto him.

“Thank you for starting again.”

He reached around for your hand, holding both of them in his before leaning down to kiss you. So gentle, so loving. He places his hand on your cheek, letting his fingers fall to your jaw and neck, the perfect fit. He pulls away, giving you one last quick peck on the lips.

You sigh happily.

“Well, we can leave everything here for now. Give me a sec, I’ll just quickly turn everything off.”

You watch as he leaps to his laptop, then to his speaker, making sure everything’s been saved and turned off properly.

“Alright. All good.”

“Pasta for dinner?” You ask him, intertwining your hands with his.

“Anything you make, really.” Nodding in approval.

You both step out of the guesthouse, knowing that for a few months or maybe more, you won’t be able to see him in there anymore. Before he closes the door, you take a last look at the slowly spinning disco ball. You were left to imagine what’s Bo going to create next. Only surprises.

You walked back to the house hand in hand, watching Bruce wait in front of the sliding door.

“Anyways, Daddy huh?” You teased him.

“Oh hush, I know you love it.” He laughed, patting the top of your head.

- 

Boy, was this fun to write. Thank you so much to @pharlapcartoonist​ for the request and idea behind this, I hope you liked it! I’m open to more requests! Hope everyone has a great day! Please stay happy and stay safe. <3

#bo burhnam #bo burnam inside #bo burnham fanfic #bo burnham fluff #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham x y/n

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Loss

Summary: Your husband had to learn a lesson. That he would have to sacrifice your marriage by losing a bet to August Walker seemed something he just accepted. That he would lose you to August in that process wasn’t something he expected. 

Pairing: August Walker x F!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: gonna tag this as dub con to be safe, also: soft August (yeah just as surprising to me as it is to you) smut (Oral; female receiving, protected sex), mentions of a miscarriage, infedelity 

A/N: It’s been a hot minute. I’ve had this idea a while ago, but only now had the motivation to finish it. Hope you enjoy this wiiiiiild August journey

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

Looking at your husband you tried to make sense of the words that had just come out of his mouth. You had been thinking about divorcing him before. He just wasn’t the man you had fallen in love with all these years ago. You didn’t care for luxury. You wanted the man back that you fell in love with. The man who stayed up with you at night, watching the stars, reading to you until you fell asleep.

The man was long gone.

He changed once you had moved to the states. His suits got more and more expensive and the time he spends with you got less and less. His answer for everything seemed to be to throw money at it. You had a big collection of jewelry, shoes, art, you name it. But all you wanted was him. At least you used to until you found out just exactly how he made his money.

Selling weapons on the black market.

“You lost a bet. And you bet me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not your whore, I’m your wife.” you shook your head.

“Look I need you to do this one thing for me and then I’ll give you everything you want, honey.” He said exhausted, not looking you in the eye. You sucked your bottom lip in, your body shaking with rage.

“You want me to fuck a man I’ve never met before? And you’re okay with it? Just like that?” You fought back the tears threatening to escape. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll make it up to you. Everything you want.” He said quietly. He would get you anything you wanted? Fine.

“Everything I want?” you asked to be sure.

“Everything.” he nodded, finally looking at you. Almost 15 years ago you had looked into his green eyes for the first time. You always thought these would be the eyes of the man you would grow old with. But now all you felt was a disappointment.

“Fine. One night with me for this Mr. Walker for everything I want from you.”

This was really happening. It was a week later, you were sitting in your bedroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your husband had instructed you to wear the sexiest lingerie you owned. Shaking your head you heard a knock at the door.

“You ready?” your husband asked. You looked at him in the mirror. Even now he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“Don’t you feel the tiniest bit of guilt at whoring out your wife to some shady men you made business with?” you asked.

“I’m sorry…” he said quietly. Closing your eyes you got up from your seat, pulling the long silk robe you were wearing closer around your body. You wouldn’t be sleeping with the man. Not in a million years. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t gonna make your husband feel bad about it.

Stopping next to him you patted his chest.

“Maybe he knows how to make me cum,” you whispered against his ear before you walked out into the living room.

You always loved this house. It reminded you of your parent’s home. It was warm and you had spent so much time decorating it. Now, sitting on the sofa as your beloved husband welcomed the man he had practically sold you to, all you felt was cold. This hasn’t been a home for a long time.

Nursing the glass of champagne you ignored your surroundings, your mind trying to figure out when the last time was your husband had actually talked to you. When did it all go downhill? Even in the beginning when he started working with these shady people he had always made sure you were happy. You wanted to have a baby. That you were pregnant at some point but lost the child before the third month was something the two of you had never talked about after it happened. Only you and your therapist knew how much you mourned the loss of your unborn child.

“Mr. Walker, this is my wife,” you heard your husband say. Well... Showtime you joked to yourself, emptying the glass of champagne before you turned your head to look at the man who had entered the room.

“I know,” the man said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You knew him. He had been over a few times. You had never spoken to him, but sometimes it was like you could feel his eyes on you. He was tall, dark curls framing his face, but it was his eyes, that captured you. The light blue a contrast to the darkness that seemed to surround him. You didn’t get why he was wearing a mustache but somehow it seemed right.

“Mr. Walker,” you nodded and he held out his hand that you took, helping you up before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. He released your hand, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as you swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat.

“Pleasure,” he winked and you breathed in deep. His eyes didn’t leave your face and you had almost forgotten that you weren’t alone when your husband coughed behind you.

“Scotch, Mr. Walker?” he asked. August shook his head.

“No. I’m not here to drink.”

“Did you forget your whored me out already?” you asked, looking at your husband before you walked past both of the men towards your bedroom.

“Honey…” he warned. You shrugged.

“Come on, Mr. Walker. I think we wasted enough time already.” You said over your shoulder, not waiting as you made your way down the hallway.

You left the door open, your confidence shrinking the further you went into the bedroom. Sucking your bottom lip in you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance if August Walker would want to have sex with you. A shiver ran over your body and you jumped as the door clicked close behind you.

Slowly you turned around, looking at the man that leaned at the door. You were about to open your mouth to ask him how on earth he would think about even suggesting something like this when he sighed.

“I’m not here to fuck you. I’m merely here so that your husband learns his lesson.” He pushed himself from the door walking to the sofa that was in front of the big window overlooking the ocean. You watched him, as he sat down, taking out his phone, and began to read.

Unsure on how to proceed you sat down on your bed with a loud sigh. He merely looked up at you, a small smile on his lips before he focused back on his phone. That gave you time to look at him.

You had noticed him before when he came by, always wearing the most expensive suits. He always seemed calm, spoke quietly which made him somehow more dangerous.

“Is this something you do often?” you asked, hugging your knees, making sure you were covered by the robe you were wearing. He looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“Teaching people lessons?” You added sarcastically.

“Only if they think they can make a fool out of me. Usually, my lesson involves a more… physical approach, but I didn’t want you to suffer through his recovery.” He set his phone down on the sofa next to him.

“Maybe you should pick something he loves more than me to teach a lesson then. Like his scotch.” You rolled your eyes.

“He loves you.” Mr. Walker said. You chuckled.

“Yeah. Clearly he does. Mr. Walker would you let any other man lay a hand on the woman you love?” you asked. He looked at you and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t name. Longing? Desperation?

“I would kill the man who even dared to suggest such thing.” He said quietly, his eyes not leaving yours. You ignored the shiver that ran down your back. “And please call me August.”

“Well then, August,” you had to smile a little. “How does this work? How long am I to be at your pretend mercy?”

“I do like to take my time when I’m with a beautiful woman. So make yourself comfortable.” He winked and you rolled your eyes.

“Pretty full of yourself, huh?”

“I never had any complaints,” he shrugged.

“Ever thought people had been too scared to actually complain?” You tried to hide your smile, as August chuckled, shaking his head before he got up and slowly took off his suit jacket.

“I’d like to think the women I fuck are too satisfied to complain.” He folded the jacket, letting it hang over the sofa.

“Well if that’s the case I envy these women…” you whispered. He still stood there, in all his wide-shouldered glory, looking at you. Slowly you sat yourself up, crossing your legs as you lean with your hands back on the bed, supporting your upper body.

“You have a loving husband, I’m sure there’s….”

“What is it that you do August? Why did my husband get involved with you? Why… Why is everything more important to him than I am?” You shook your head. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.” You let yourself fall back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

Minutes went by before he spoke again.

“Do you still love him?” August asked. You turned your head, seeing him still standing next to the sofa.

“I am in love with the man he once was. But the man out there? The man who asked his wife to sleep with a man because he lost a bet in some gambling? How could I love him?”

“He does love you.”

“He certainly has a funny way of showing it.” You grumbled.

“What do you miss most? About him?” August asked. You turned to your side, not caring if your robe wasn’t covering you anymore. Somehow you felt safer with August, only knowing him for an hour or so, than with the man you were married to.

“The way he used to look at me. How we could spend all night talking. How we used to not leave the bed all weekend. I miss feeling safe in his arms when we used to dance with him humming a song in the moonlight…” you closed your eyes.

“That’s a lot you miss,” August said quietly. You heard him come closer and you opened your eyes as he knelt in front of you.

“I’ve been lonely for a long time. He may love me, but I don’t think he is still in love with me. And I’m not with him.” You felt his hand on top of yours then.

“Come on.” He pulled you up from the bed and you let him.

“What?” You asked confused.

“Dance with me.”

Slowly you let him guide you to the middle of your bedroom, his hand holding yours until he stopped. Shuddering you breathed out before you looked up at him. His thumb rubbed circles over the back of your hand and like you had done it a million times before your other hand curled in the back of his neck. He was so close. He closed his eyes at your touch, breathing in deep, before his other hand came to rest on your back, slowly pushing you against him, before he began to lead you into a slow dance.

His eyes opened just when you decided to rest your head on his shoulder. Your fingers played with the hair in his neck and you may have imagined it, but you felt him shiver. You breathed him in, feeling a little dizzy feeling someone so close again. He kissed the top of your head.

“I wanted you since the first time I saw you almost a year ago,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know I was there when you were outside in the garden. I think you were cutting some flowers, wearing a blue summer dress. I watched you instead of listening to your husband who was trying to sell me god knows what.” You closed your eyes, letting him talk.

“He doesn’t deserve you. Fuck I don’t think I deserve you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and when he lost everything he had with him at the poker table I did the first thing that popped into my mind.”

You breathed in deep. Slowly his hand on your back had wandered lower, stopping just above the curve of your ass. You shivered.

“He told me I can get everything I want when I do this, you, for him.” You said quietly. “So to get what I want you to have to take what you want.” You looked up at him, seeing the storm in his eyes.

“How is the man that supposed to love me learn his lesson if he doesn’t suffer?”

“Don’t…” he growled.

“He thinks you’re fucking me, August,” you got on your tiptoes, whispering in his ear.

“Don’t you think he should hear how you fuck me too?” He released a breath, his hand finally running down, grabbing your ass as he pulled you even closer.

“I won’t be leaving his house without you afterward,” he said, making sure to look into your eyes.

“That’s good, cause I don’t want to stay here with him afterward.”

He closed his eyes, his hand releasing yours after he gently lay it down on his shoulder. He reached for your face, tilting your chin up before opening his eyes.

“How long?” he asked, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“How long hasn’t he touched you?” August leaned down, kissing your forehead, your temple, your eyes.

“At least a year…” you breathed out, melting against him.

“Fuck…” he cursed before his lips crashed down on yours. His hand caressed your face, pulling you closer as you held on to him. You parted your lips, moaning when his tongue slipped into your mouth. He tasted dark and dangerous and you didn’t want to live without tasting him ever again.

He tugged on the belt holding your robe together, pushing it off your shoulder as your fingers slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned against your lips before his mouth wandered down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Pushing his shirt off his shoulders when you finished unbuttoning it your hands pulled his head down to kiss his lips.

“I want you on the bed. Legs spread,” he whispered, his voice deep and you whimpered as you turned away from him, walking over to the bed to lay down. You watched him, as he opened his pants, pushing them down, getting his shoes off in the process. One of your hands ran down your body, slipping in between your legs. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this wet. Rubbing slow circles over your still clothed clit you bit your lip as you watched him come over.

“Show me how wet this pussy is for me,” he demanded hoarsely. You bit your lip as he knelt on the bed in front of you. Pushing your panties to the side you heard him groan.

“Fucking soaked. Touch yourself,” he grabbed your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg as you teased yourself, wanting nothing more than his mouth on you. You cried out, when he playfully bit the inside of your thigh, both of his hands parting your legs wider.

“Make him hear you,” he smirked before his tongue licked through your slit. You threw your head back, your hands grabbing the bedsheet beneath you. He nibbled and sucked, his tongue driving your sheer insane.

“There… Right there…” you grabbed his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth. You felt one of his hands ran up your body as he looked up at you, his lips sucking on your clit. He pushed two of his fingers into your mouth, you sucked hard and almost biting him. He chuckled against you, his fingers leaving your mouth only to bring them down to your pussy as he released your clit.

“You gonna cum for me?” His fingers lazily circled your clit before he slowly pushed them into you. You parted your lips, breathing loudly, trying to maintain eye contact until he angled his fingers.

“Fuck August,” you cried out, surprised by the wave of pleasure that shot through your body.

“There it is…” he grinned. You moaned when he focused on that spot inside of you.

“I need…” you began only to moan loudly when his tongue was back on your clit. Your eyes flew open, your hands grabbing his thick hair.

“I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, moaning loudly when your orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking, your thighs caging August in between your legs. He moaned against you, devouring you like you were his last meal, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm until it became too much and you whimpered, pushing him gently away.

“Fuck me…” you whimpered, trying to normalize your breathing.

“That’s the plan,” he teased, grinning down at you.

“Fuck you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, that too.”

You shook your head with a smile. He kissed up your body, stopping at your bra.

“Let’s get you naked so I can fuck you.” You sat up, letting him take off your bra. He pushed you down into the mattress, kissing the valley of your boobs as his other hand slowly pushed your panties down.

“I want you inside of me,” you pulled at his hair, earning a moan from him. “And I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Careful what you ask for, princess.”

“I want to feel you every time I sit down in the next days. I won’t break…”

“At least not today,” he winked before he pushed his boxers down. You bit your lip as he stroked his cock. It was bigger than any you had before.

“Condom?” you asked. He nodded, jumping off the bed to get to his pants.

“So you weren’t planning on this happening, huh?” You raised your eyebrow as he walked over, pulling the condom over his cock.

“Wishful thinking.” He slapped your thigh, hard and you whimpered.

“You liked that huh?” He slapped you again. You moaned, turning on the bed to get on your hands and knees.

“Don’t be gentle,” you reminded him, wiggling your ass as you looked at him over your shoulder. His eyes seemed to darken as his hands landed on your hips, pulling you towards him as if you weighed nothing.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he said before he entered you in one hard thrust.

“FUCK!” you cried out loudly.

“Still sure you don’t want me to be gentle?” He asked close to your ear as he bends down, his teeth pulling at your earlobe.

“Do your worst,” you clenched your inner muscles making him curse. He slapped your ass, hard.

“You’re such a bad girl, princess. What am I gonna do with you?” He kissed down your back before he pulled out and entered you again. You didn’t get time to answer when he began to fuck you. Deep and hard, just how you liked it. His fingers would leave bruises on your hips from the way he held you and you would wear these marks with pride.

“Such a tight fucking pussy. I knew you’d be the death of me…” he groaned. You let yourself fall on your elbows, the change of angle making you see stars.

“Shit I want to cum inside of this pussy. Mark you from the inside so every fucking man on this planet knows your mine…” He slapped your ass and you whimpered his name. It never felt like that. Sex never felt that good…

“I’m yours. All yours…” you moaned, your head pressed into the mattress to lower your moans. You felt him pull at your hair.

“No. Let me hear you. Let him hear what he lost when he put his job in front of the woman he loves.” One of his arms pulled your upper body up against his chest, his hand holding one of your boob

s as he fucked into you.

“August…” you cried out.

“That’s it. Cum for me.” He thrust faster, holding you close and pulled at your nipple. Your orgasm took you by surprise, like a tidal wave spreading over your whole body and August fucked you through it following you only moments later, biting into your shoulder, marking you as his.

You stayed there, in his arms, his cock still deep inside of you, the only noise in the room your heavy breathing. He kissed your shoulder softly, his lips wandering up to your neck until you turned your head and he kissed you.

“You really wanna get out of here?” He asked.

“If you’ll have me?”

August was standing next to the two suitcases you had packed that contained only some clothes you would need. You made sure to wear a strapless top so your husband could see the marks August had left on you. Your wedding band and engagement ring lay on your side of the bed.

“Ready?” August asked quietly. He was standing at the door. You nodded, taking one last look before you opened the door. Your husband was sitting across the door at the wall, staring up at you as you stepped out.

“Everything I want?” You said. He nodded with a small relieved smile until August stepped out of the door and you made sure your husband saw that you weren’t wearing your wedding band when you took August’s hand.

You looked down at him, seeing his face fall. Once upon a time you had loved this man. But this was before he had willingly sold you. Before he had neglected you. Before he had ignored you.

“Everything I want,” you squeezed August’s hand as you looked at your husband, seeing him nod slowly. You took one suitcase and August the other, bigger one. You saw your husband’s eyes wander up your body, stopping at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“Everything you want,” your husband said with a sad expression.

“Consider your debt paid,” August said, before he squeezed your hand. You looked at him then, his eyes on you and you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t know that this would be the beginning of something you had been searching for all your life. A life with a man at your side who would always put you first. And who would let the whole world burn before any other man would have the chance to even think about touching what was his.

#my writing #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x you #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

[earlgreydream]

butterbeer.

| draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader | fluff |

a/n: requested by my dearest hufflepuff, @fitzfiles​ i’m so soft for draco 

You sat curled up in the Hufflepuff common room, your thick herbology book resting on your lap. Cedric was beside you on the couch in his golden quidditch sweater, smiling kindly at you. 

“Do you see? In order to care for the mandrakes, you must bury them in the soil like this,” you showed Cedric your notes. Every Friday afternoon was spent tutoring Cedric in herbology after your shared class. 

“Yes. You’re much better than Sprout at explaining it. You should become the new herbology professor when the bloke finally retires.” Cedric grinned at you. 

“I like Professor Sprout! That would be fun though!” You giggled. 

“Oi, Y/N! Your boyfriend is griping to be let in here,” One of the Hufflepuff girls called to you as she entered the common room. You smiled at her apologetically, squeezing Cedric’s shoulder as you stood. You walked to the painting, letting it swing open to reveal Draco Malfoy. 

“Hi,” you smiled at him, and he gazed at you softly with a loving smile. His usual arrogance and sharpness was gone from his expression as he looked at you with utter adoration. 

“Hi, darling,” he stepped into the common room, kissing your forehead lightly. 

“Cedric.” He nodded, greeting your best friend. Draco had been a bit prickly toward him when the two of you first began dating, but he warmed up when he realized that Cedric wasn’t a threat. 

“We’re not quite finished. Do you mind?”

“I’ll wait. You can’t go in this anyways.” he said, nodding to your school uniform you hadn’t changed out of.

“I know, darling. It’s warm in here and I haven’t had the chance to change.” 

You walked back over to the couch, and he sat on the floor on a golden cushion, his head resting against your thigh. You lightly ran your fingertips through his snowy white locks as you leaned over your herbology book, helping Cedric identify the differences between the plants for your O.W.L.S. 

The other Hufflepuffs no longer stared at Draco, now used to having him in their common room. Draco was often hanging around, enjoying the warmth and coziness, and the way he was welcomed. He found that he much preferred it to the chilly, marble elegance of the Slytherin commons. 

One of the second-year girls walked over, setting down a plate of pumpkin pastries.

“Y/N, Draco, Cedric, have some,” She said sweetly, smiling at the three of you and sitting down across from the Slytherin prince. 

“Draco, would you maybe look at my potions paper? I swear Professor Snape hates me, and I’m nervous.” She asked shyly, and Draco sat up. 

“Of course, let me see.” He took the paper from her hand, and she moved to sit beside him. You smiled down at your boyfriend, and the kind way he spoke to her. 

“This is great, but you should add here that polyjuice potion takes a long time to make...” He fell into soft chatter with her, showing her where her paper could be stronger. Draco was gentle, careful to praise the younger student on what she did well. It warmed your heart, and you turned back to finish with Cedric. 

“This is perfect. I’ll put in a good word for you too, with Snape. Please, I’m always happy to help you or tutor you if you need it, alright?” he asked her as she stood.

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Of course.” 

“I love it when you’re sweet.” You said, leaning down over Draco and kissing the tip of his nose. He stood, helping you to your feet and taking your heavy textbook for you.

“I’m still mean!” He teasingly defended himself and you shook your head at him with a small smile.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Pansy that you’re secretly nice,” you teased back and he followed you to your dorm. 

He set your textbook down on your desk, mindlessly folding the various clothing you had tossed over the back of your chair or top of the trunk at the end of your bed. He was extremely neat, always folding your clothes or putting things back in their places whenever he visited your dorm. 

“Y/N, is this my quidditch sweater I’ve been looking for?” He asked as you pulled a yellow Hufflepuff jumper over your head, letting it fall over your black skinny jeans. 

“Um, no, it belongs to my other boyfriend who plays on the Slytherin quidditch team,” you answered with a straight face. 

“You’re dating Theo behind my back?” Draco asked, humor laced in his voice.

“No, sorry, the other one,” you bit back a giggle as he reached for you, tickling your sides and making you squeal.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m yours, Draco!” You squealed, trying to escape as your laughter interrupted your breathing. 

“That’s right. You’re mine,” his voice dropped a few octaves, making you shudder with a small smile on your face. 

“It doesn’t smell like you anymore. You can have it back.” 

“Oh, I can have it back?” he smirked, pulling. you into a kiss. 

“But I want another one in return.”

“Y/N, that jumper is mine too. And that one.” He pointed, and you rolled your eyes.

“You have plenty. You can share.” 

“Come on, let’s get going.” 

Draco wrapped a scarf around your neck and fastened the buttons on the coat like you were a child. You knew he was just doing it because he cared, and you let him, taking any affection you could get from Draco. 

“Where are your gloves, honey?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, and he frowned.

“It’s cold, you can’t keep losing them.” 

“I know, let’s go now. I’ll find them later, for next time,” you begged.

“You can hold my hands so they don’t get cold, and my coat has pockets.” 

“Alright, love, come on,” Draco wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you to him as you apparated to Diagon Alley. 

You shivered as snowflakes gently dusted into your hair, the freezing air nipping at your skin. You squeezed Draco’s hand, and he led you through the bustling street, weaving through groups of people. Draco was right, it was cold, but you didn’t dare complain, not wanting a lecture from your boyfriend about how you should keep better track of your gloves and hat. 

“Y/N, go ahead,” he gently pushed you in front of him as he opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron, helping the two of you escape the cold. 

Draco kept a hand on the small of your back, leading you through the crowded pub. You squeezed through the crowded area, and ascended a flight of stairs to the second level. You smiled when you saw your favorite spot was open, a window bench with lots of pillows and a street view. You took a seat in the large round window, and Draco settled beside you. 

“What can I get for you two?” A waitress asked.

“Butterbeer for us both, please.” You said politely, and Draco added vanilla cookies. She smiled and promised to have your order soon.

“Thanks for helping me escape school. I needed some “us time” away from it all,” you told Draco, who planted a kiss to your lips. He tasted like sage and vanilla, and his kiss was sweet and gentle. 

“Of course, I love spending time with you,” Draco wrapped an arm around your waist, and you leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. He turned and kissed the crown of your head, his fingers lightly tracing the embroidery on the sleeve of the coat you wore. 

The waitress returned with your drinks, and you grinned, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around one of the glass mugs. Draco smiled at your excitement. He loved seeing you happy, even if it was over small things, like a warm drink on a cold day. You were so sweet. You were kind to everyone, especially him, and he loved you for it. You were the breath of fresh air and the gentleness he needed in his life, and he was profoundly in love with you. He adored you, and he was secretly happy when you stole his sweaters, because he loved to give them to you. 

A tiny silver necklace with a moon charm always rested beneath your collar, matching the one he war. He’d given it to you as a gift on your birthday, three years ago when the two of you started dating, and you never took it off. It made him happy to see you wear it proudly. Sometimes, he would watch you from afar, seeing your fingers touch the pendant lightly whenever you missed him. He’d walk up to you then, and see your face light up with joy when you saw him.

“Draco, can I have one of your vanilla cookies?” you asked sweetly, looking up at your boyfriend expectantly. 

He held out the plate to you, and you picked up the top one off the small pile with a smile. You bit into the soft cookie, smiling at him gratefully. He kissed your cheek, and you fed him a piece. He lightly nipped at your fingertip, making you squeal with delighted laughter. 

“Don’t bite!” You giggled, pecking his lips, which now tasted like sugar and butterbeer. 

“M’sorry, love,” Draco laughed, not sorry at all. 

The two of you played chess on the tabletop with a small set the pub had while you drank the butterbeer and finished off the cookies. You watched the snow fall outside, and Draco tried to teach you chess strategies, though you were mostly lost. 

“That’s alright. It’s getting late, anyway.” Draco said when the two of you got stuck in your match, the empty mugs long forgotten. You looked up, seeing that the sun had set, and the only light outside came from buzzing street lamps. 

You held Draco’s hand tightly as you stepped out into the cold night, burying your face in his shoulder as the two of you walked back to a side street where you could apparate back to Hogwarts without being seen. You held your breath as Draco waved his wand, and you were suddenly back in your dormitory, disturbing your once-sleeping cat. 

“Will you stay?” You asked Draco, and he nodded, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Of course.” He kissed you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you.

You hung up your coat and scarf, slipping your boots off and placing them in the bottom of the wardrobe. Draco draped his slacks, sweater, and undershirt over your chair, and pulled one of his jumpers you had stolen over his head. You stripped before pulling another over your head, his last name stitched on the chest. You turned to see Draco was pulling down your duvet, and you smiled at him softly. 

You walked over, freeing your hair from your plait and picking up your brush from the dresser. Draco’s pale fingers wrapped around the brush, prying it from your grasp. You smiled up at him as he gently brushed the tangles from your hair, helping you get ready for bed. You sat on the sheets, knees pulled to your chest, and Draco softly dragging the brush through your hair. You were nearly asleep when he finished, yawning as you sat up. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He slipped into bed behind you, pulling the duvet to cover you both. He murmured a spell to shut off the lights, darkness falling gently over the two of you. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest, settling with you into his arms. 

“Goodnight, Draco.” You whispered, and he kissed the back of your head.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

#draco lucius malfoy #draco fluff #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco fanfic #draco fanfiction #soft draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco one shot #draco malfoy one shot #draco oneshot #draco malfoy oneshot #draco/reader #draco/you #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #hogwarts #draco malfoy drabble #draco blurb #dracotok

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sweet Tooth [Spencer x gn! Reader]

A/N: this is for my “Donuts” square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ AKA The four times Spencer gave you donuts and one time he didn’t. 

CW: absolutely none, complete and utter fluff.

WC: 1.5K

Find my Masterlist here.

You would always remember the first time you saw him. The morning rush had you exhausted, sweaty and somewhat flustered. You swore every DC man and his mother got their coffee for their morning commute at your shop. 

Just as it was dying down he stepped up to the counter, large hazel eyes and a slightly awkward smile. 

“Black coffee please.” His voice was like honey to your ears. It took a few seconds for you to register his words. 

“Uh...yeah sure. Coming right up.” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and turned towards the coffee maker. “Anything else?”

The man mused this for a moment. He had unruly curly hair and a jawline that could cut glass. 

“Do you have a donut recommendation?” 

You finished his coffee and slid it across the counter as you contemplated this.

“Well my favourite is strawberries and cream. But you have to have one hell of a sweet tooth for that.”

He smiled with a small nod. 

“I’ll take one of those.” 

You got a paper bag and cautiously placed the delicacy inside. 

You rang up his order and he paid. You slid his donut across the counter but he smiled playfully.

“It’s not for me.” He slid it back, his eyes sparkling at you. “Enjoy.” 

And with that he was gone. 

You stared dumbly at the spot he had just been standing. The moment had been so fleeting it was almost as though it had never happened.

But there was a strawberry and cream donut on the counter in front of you.

***

Three weeks passed and there was no sign of your mystery donut customer. Every time the little bell over the door chimed over those three weeks your heart skipped a beat and your eyes would dart to the door. But it was never him.

Over time you started to think you must have imagined him. You’d been exhausted that morning and maybe your mind had created the handsome stranger as a distraction.

Or if he had been real, he’d probably been a tourist which would explain why you hadn’t seen him again. And every day your hope dwindled a little more that you ever would see him again. 

You weren’t even sure why it mattered. It had been a fleeting moment, a small act of kindness but for some reason it had stuck with you. Maybe it was his intoxicating eyes or his warm smile. 

After you returned from your break that day and were getting your apron back on, something caught your eye. It was a paper bag behind the counter with your name on.

“What’s this?” You asked your colleague with a frown. 

She turned from where she was cleaning the coffee machine.

“Oh some guy came in and asked what the sweetest donut we did was. I told him it was probably the caramel sensation and he paid for it and told me to keep it for you.” She shrugged.

“What?” You picked up the bag. “Who? When?”

“Some guy.” She shrugged again. “Tall, messy hair. Said his name was Spencer I think.”

“When? How long ago?”

“I don’t know?” She laughed. “Maybe a quarter of an hour ago?” 

Your heart dropped and soared all at once. He’d been here and you’d missed him. But he’d left you a donut. 

You cautiously removed the donut from its bag and before you took a bite you muttered to yourself, “thanks Spencer.”

***

Two days later right smack bang in coffee lovers rush hour, he appeared again. He sidestepped being served by your colleague and as a dad and his boisterous children stepped away, he materialised in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “How was the donut?”

“It was good thanks.” You blushed, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Good.” He blushed slightly too. “So you know my name, am I allowed to know yours?”

You giggled a little and pointed at your name badge pinned to your apron.

“Y/N.” 

Oh god he felt foolish. He’d never thought to look. 

“Oh yeah.” His blush deepened. “Sorry.”

“Can you hurry it up!” A large, angry looking man behind Spencer grumbled. “I don’t got all day for your flirting.”

You both blushed again at his words.

“Uhm...black coffee?”

“Yes please. And a donut of your choice.” 

You set about making his drink, trying not to stare at him but it was hard when he was so gorgeous. 

You picked out two chocolate sprinkle donuts and bagged them separately. 

“Why two?” He frowned a little when you slid one over the counter. 

“It’s your turn to have a donut on me.” You pulled at all your confidence and winked at him. “Coffees on me too.”

“What? I can’t do that.” He shook his head a little frantic. 

“You’ll think of a way to return the favour.” You smiled at him and then you moved on to serve your next customer while Spencer just stared, slightly slack jawed. 

***

Another few weeks passed and Spencer didn’t come back into the coffee shop. You worried you scared him off with your blatant flirtatiousness. Maybe you’d come on too strong. 

Just when you’d resided yourself to the fact you had indeed frightened him away and that he was probably getting his fix at Starbucks rather than your small boutique cafe, a delivery man of all people proved you wrong.

He nudged the door open with his hip, a large flat box in his hands.

“I’m looking for Y/N.” He grunted slightly as he came to the counter.

“That’s me.” You pointed at your name badge. How did people always miss that?

“These are for you.” He set the box down on the counter. 

You stared down at the delights through the transparent lid. At least a dozen donuts of all varieties laid inside. 

You looked back up but the delivery man had already gone. 

You carried your treats through to the back office and opened the lid where you found a small note inside. 

You unfolded it and read the messy handwriting inside.

Y/N, 

Sorry I haven’t been in for a while, my job is hectic. But I wanted to make up for it, so here is a donut for everyday I haven’t been able to see you. Hope to see you soon,

Spencer.

You felt yourself blushing as you read his words over and over. He wasn’t avoiding you. You hadn’t freaked him out. He sent you a donut for every day you’d been apart. 

God this man was something else. You couldn’t wait to thank him to his face. You just hoped you didn’t have to wait too long.

***

It was another week before you spotted that mop of curly hair sat at a table outside the coffee shop in the DC sunshine. 

You waited for the place to quieten down, placed two chocolate custard donuts on plates and took your break. 

You took a few deep breaths as you pushed open the cafe door and stepped out onto the street. He had his back to you reading a newspaper as you approached. 

“I thought it was high time I returned the favour.” You spoke, making Spencer almost jump out of his seat. 

You giggled a little and without being invited you slid into the empty seat opposite him. 

“Oh hi Y/N.” He spoke, regaining his composure and folding his newspaper. 

You slid him one of the donuts.

“Hi Spencer.” You smiled back at him. 

You kept eye contact as you both took a bite of your respective donuts. 

“So, as much as I love trading donuts back and forth,” you started between mouthfuls. “Are you ever going to ask me on a date?” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, you were never so forward with men. But Spencer was different. You would do anything it took to make him yours. The attraction between the two of you was palpable. He’d made the first move with the donuts, now it was your turn.

“That’s why I’m here.” He smiled at you and it sent shivers down your spine. “What time do you get off work?” 

“Five.” 

He looked at his watch, it was just before two.

“Ok, I’ll be right here when you finish.” 

“You’re going to wait all that time for me?” You couldn’t hide your blush.

“As long as I have coffee, I don’t mind waiting.” His smile turned a little shy and you thought it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. 

“I’ll make sure you never have an empty cup.” You finished your donuts, your eyes fixed on one another. “I need to get back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. 

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” He looked up at you, eyes sparkling. 

You thought about this for a second before you grinned. You started walking away and turned to speak over your shoulder. 

“I donut mind Spencer. I donut mind at all.” 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you

[junova]

.˚✦ ๋࣭ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

my universe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

notes: this one has been in my drafts....forever. never really liked it too much but fuck it. maybe i can redeem it in a part 2??? this is more of a prologue if anything. idk we'll see. happy reading!

pairing: modern!steve rogers x reader, former!bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

concept: bucky was all you'd ever cared about, wanting him more than anyone. until he comes along, showing what it actually means to love someone. welcome to heaven in hiding.

warnings: 18+, sexual content, jealous!reader, bucky being a dick, soft!steve, heavy angst, steve is a funny lil shit at the end

wc: 3.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt unbearable to be here. Watching how fondly she still looked at him, after all this time, not missing a beat. It was suffocating, surrounding you by a sea of water and having no other option than to drown. Greedily, his love swallowing you up in your entirety.

He did really try to dodge her looks of longing but still, even now he felt the pull to her. It didn’t really matter how long they were absent from each others’ lives.

As you sat next to him, you could feel him slipping from your grasp. Far beyond your control, way out of your depth, he was falling. Deep down, you couldn’t really blame him. The pictures you’d seen of her did no justice, she was truly a vision. Much brighter than you would ever glow and it made you wonder if what he spoke just a few hours ago still held meaning.

Not to mention, she seemed to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Making you grow even more envious of her.

Sure, she had broken his heart but it wasn’t beyond forgiveness. She had simply put herself before the relationship and if you had been in her shoes you could imagine yourself doing the same. All she wanted was a better future for herself, at least it’s what he had told you.

Now sitting here you couldn’t stop thinking about how she looked at him with admiration and love laced in her eyes. Truly, if she still wanted him in her arms there was nothing stopping her.

Surely, not you. You two seemed to live on two different planes of beauty and hers was the kind you dream of having but only have a very little probability of obtaining. With her ruby hair and glossy lips, tempting nearly everyone around her to the way she carried herself and spoke to you like you were the only person she was invested in.

It wasn’t difficult to see why he spoke of her so much. You would, too.

You tried to enjoy the wonderfully prepared meal Pepper and Tony had made, well mainly Pepper. It was delicious, but your senses had gone bitter and it had nothing to do with the food.

You weren’t sure when you started to drift off, maybe it was when Bucky began looking at Natasha like she hung each and every constellation in the sky. Or maybe it’s when you heard her melodic laugh when Bucky delivered the punchline.

It was like Steve, Wanda, and Thor didn’t exist. The lovely couple in their own little bubble, speaking in a language only the two of them understood. Utterly and completely unaware of any and all of their surroundings.

“You okay?” Steve questioned, placing his hand on top of your hand, giving it a small squeeze. Discreetly and under the table away from prying eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need some air.” You weren’t sure what could remove the nothingness inside of you, but maybe some space would provide some comfort.

You felt like your heart had been ripped out right in front of you, again. He said he wouldn’t do it again, that he wanted to be with you, but all she had to do was come to town and he’d been chasing her just like he always did.

Excusing yourself you dipped out until you were out on the back patio. Alone to just think and mull over any little thing that should have tipped you off, but didn’t. You let it slide on, blinded by how much you thought you loved him.

You weren’t left in the peaceful night long, until Steve was joining you with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of red in the other.

“You looked like you could use a glass or two.” Steve gibed carefully. “I’m just using your sour mood as an excuse to escape from the party.” You were about to object when a full glass of wine was shoved into your grasp.

“I’m not in a sour mood. I’m just swell.” You spoke before taking a big swing of the drink, nearly emptying it’s contents, sending it barreling down your throat.

“Sure, honey. Just like the green monster isn’t oozing out of you.” You found yourself intentionally growling at him, just a little agitated of the truth he spoke.

The absolute audacity on this man seemed to never end. Whether it helped you or caused more misery than he intended.

“It certainly doesn’t help that she's so goddamn perfect. Was she fucking made in a lab? Jesus Christ.” You were jealous and if Steve already knew there was really no point in hiding it. It was written all over you, the longing look you were giving Bucky all night, desperately wanting to be the one he wanted.

“She’s not perfect, nobody is. Just better at hiding her faults than everybody else.” He said it like it was some known fact. Something you should’ve already known, but insecurities tended to eat you alive. Truthfully, it didn’t help that Bucky acted like Natasha walked on water in his hopeful, gleaming eyes. Stinging you like a bee piercing your soft, plush skin for the first time.

He really loved her. It didn’t matter how many times she messed up, what he felt was all the same — she was the one.

“Really? I don’t buy it. Name one.” Steve perched himself on his knees in front of you, his hands on the armrest of the chair you made yourself comfortable in. “Okay.”

“How about the fact that she loves Bucky just about more than anyone else but she’s too selfish to let him go? Then, for months she leads him on and promises she’ll come home but always leaves him heartbroken.” Steve let it flow all in one breath, as his body rested between your legs.

“Sounds gruesome.” You confessed because it hit a little close to home. “Yeah, it is and he has no right to do the same thing to an angel like you.”

You hated how he was right, truly hated it, but anyone with eyes could see how much Bucky dragged you through the mud. He had a good heart, but it just hadn’t been good to you.

Bucky’s intentions weren’t malicious and it didn’t seem like he was either but it didn’t take away from how much he continued to hurt you. All of the unintended consequences only affected you as he went on with his day.

Over and over, he continued to cause you pain and he didn’t even know it. Or he did and just neglected to acknowledge it. If he did, he’d actually have to deal with just how much he was actually hurting you.

It wasn’t like either one was particularly gunning for the latter, but Steve was. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had left you high and dry whenever the red head, beauty stepped foot into town. Although it was the first time you had a front row seat to the attention she commanded from him.

You both sat there in silence for the moment, taking in the starry night as he rested his cheek against your leg. He began running fingertips up and down your exposed calf, letting him soothe you.

“I’ll keep thinking I’ll be alright. That’ll get over him, but he just keeps pulling me back and jerking me around for his ride and I let him.” If anyone saw you besides Steve, you didn’t think you could handle it but you’re comfortable around him.

He’s continuously been there for you everytime Bucky pushed to the side for her. Always so sweet, so tender, comforting you in his warmth. Never once judging you, always taking the time time to just sit and listen to you.

“I don’t think it’s even about him anymore. I’m just chasing this unattainable moment, just so I fill this void in me. Maybe if he loves me I can love me, too.” Mumbling under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Bubba.” You smiled for a second, as his voice dripped in concern. “You don’t need him or what little he can offer. Not when you can love yourself better than anyone else can.” He pulled himself up to his feet, picking you up from the chair until you were surrounded by just him.

“We love you. I love you, so stop listening to those nasty little thoughts, bubs. They’re far from the truth. You are truly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and deserve the absolute world.” With slight pressure from his index, he tilted your chin up, letting your eyes drown in his.

“Don’t expect anything less.” Steve breathed out, before testing the waters. He just held you there, caressing your back as you just sunk in his arms, allowing his warmth to ease your hurt. Just like he’d done so many times before.

Somehow, Steve seemed to know exactly what you need to hear. You didn’t know how he managed to be so wonderful all the time. Maybe you could just stay there forever with him shielding you from every single evil in the world out to get you.

“Can you take me somewhere? This is the last place I want to be.” Steve simply nodded before lacing your hand in his, before making your way back inside.

The moment the two of you stepped foot into the house, it was silent. Everyone looked at the two of you. Steve took notice of the Bucky’s bugged eyes at the joined hands of his two best friends, but knew better than to verbally acknowledge it.

It wasn’t something Steve and you hadn’t done, but never in the prying eyes of Bucky. Thor and Wanda had taken note of it a few times, but never spoke a word about it. Secretly, Wanda hoped it meant something for you, because she could see just how much Steve adored you.

He never spoke a word, so you remained clueless to a feeling he never felt like he had a right to speak on. No matter how strongly he felt, he knew if he confessed, it would do more damage than good.

You had become one of his closest friends in the past few years he’d known you and he wouldn’t jeopardize it for anything. Selfishly, he left you under Bucky’s radar because being your friend was far safer than risking the rejection he was sure would be sent his way.

He knew you were close to cutting Bucky off from your life completely, he just had to wait it out. Natasha being here tonight was the icing on the cake for Steve, because all he had to do was be here for in a way Bucky never could. Not when he was slicing through your heart every time his attention diverted from you to her.

Just because he was stuck in a past love instead of the future and Steve would fully take advantage of it — being there for you in any way you needed.

Regardless of everything, he wanted to — needed to. He couldn’t live with himself if he let you go through the hurt and heartache alone. Not when so many times you had seeked the comfort of him to lean on. Steve would never be one to say no to you.

“Are you leaving, doll?” The endearment Bucky intended to be sweet but left a sour taste in your mouth. More than that, you didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his pet name for you. The one she thought was only reserved for her.

Maybe if he held affection for you like he did earlier today, your heart would be filled to the brim, but he didn't. So, you weren’t. “Yeah, Steve’s going to take me home. I have an early morning tomorrow and I’ve already had a bit too much wine.” Bucky didn’t argue, nodding with a tight lipped smile.

Perhaps his indifference is what made you hurt even more. He didn’t care about anything, not even you with you so closely tangled with Steve. It didn’t have an effect on him because the woman sitting by his side, draped over him held more value than you ever could.

“You sure? I can make sure you get home safely.” Bucky pleaded, but before you could respond Steve did.

“I got it, Buck. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He looked like he wanted to say more but he decided to stay silent as he watched you walk out the door with Steve, hand and hand.

The drive home in the Uber was silent, Steve didn’t say a word, just the weight of his arm holding you close. He took note of how you refused to look at anything but the luminescence of the New York’s city lights captivating your vision.

Even if it hurt Bucky only chose you whenever Natasha wasn’t around you couldn’t help but focus on how hot and heated your body felt with Steve so close to you. Holding you so tightly like he was afraid you would let go.

Perhaps it was a bit shady of you to drape yourself over his childhood best friend whenever he rejected you, but now you were finding yourself finding solace in Steve in everything, like you used to with Bucky. He had become this safe place for you, where you wouldn’t be shamed for how you felt or what you were going through.

Even if he knew how much you were hurting from your own obliviousness to Bucky’s behavior, he always let you find solace in his strong, comforting arms. Always sturdy enough to hold the weight of your hurt and what he was carrying too. Just like tonight.

“He’s never going to love me the way I want him to — like the way he loves her.” It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a stone cold fact. Something you’d tried to ignore over the past year, especially.

Not wanting anything in this moment but him, you laid your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat giving you a sense of peace in the aftermath of your heartbreak. The crisp material of the white button up he was wearing shifted from the weight of you, he didn’t really mind.

“I think it’s time for me to let go of this image I have of him, one he can never live up to and accept him for who he is and where he’s at right now.” Steve nodded, still not saying a word, slipping farther and farther away from you as he let his thoughts consume him entirely.

It’d been happening a lot more lately. This. The close, excruciating intimacy between Steve and the woman he was in love with.

Over the past few months, anytime you were upset about something, you would show up at his doorsteps crashing into him as you wept. Always wanting to be close to him, snuggled up to his side, bleeding your heart out to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone.

Not even Bucky.

Then there was the one kiss on New Years’ Eve a few weeks ago which stayed imprinted on the forefront of his mind. He remembered when he woke up the following morning, he was holding you to his chest, the both of you bodies laced with one another.

He got up before you were there to consciously witness it, but it was all he thought about weeks after. Being that close awoke the need to be near you. It was already there, but now he knew how it felt to hold you in the comfort of his own bed.

It nearly killed him when you woke up, making your way down the stairs from his bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and the shirt he wore last night. Steve wasn’t drunk enough to completely forget the whole night, nothing had happened in his room last night. Seeing you, in here, in his apartment, made him think what his life could possibly be like with you here.

If he was ever to be so lucky.

As of yesterday, when you told him Bucky finally wanted to move forward with you, it broke him. Even if he kept his true feelings hidden, he felt you crush his heart with one fatale squeeze. Any particular hope he once had, was diminished into a fantasy far from reality.

The both of you were Steve’s best friends — he had to be happy for you.

Then, Natasha came to town. Storming through Bucky’s heart just like she’s always done. When Steve invited you to the dinner his best friend was trying to keep you from, he knew it could possibly be the last fatale blow to whatever string your relationship with Buck was. Maybe his, too.

Steve knew going after you could mean losing his really good friend, but he simply couldn’t stop himself. Not when you were a pure goddess ascending from above in all of your glory, capturing his heart in every single glance you threw his way. At this point, he didn’t care what it’d cost him.

As long as he had you, it would be worth it.

When the car pulled up to your street, you let your hand glide down his chest, resting on his lower abdomen. Not missing the way his body trembled under your touch, the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to protect him from you — not that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

As soon as those sinful words left your mouth, he knew he was done for.

Perhaps, if the both of you hadn’t been tipsy of the bottle of wine you shared, you wouldn’t feel the urge to invite him up, but he smelled too good and acted too perfect for any other consideration.

“Do you want to come inside, Stevie?” You purred watching the gears switch in his mind. Contemplating if he really should go through with it. Now that it was within his reach, he was becoming hesitant to grab it. You were drunk, he was drunk. Hence the uber and the both of your cars left behind in Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to go up there, bubs.” Instantly, you pouted. A deep frown etched on your beautiful face. “Why not? I think it would be a wonderful thing. Don’t you?” With one swift movement, you were cupping his crotch, making your intentions more than clear.

The grunt leaving Steve’s mouth was animalistic as he tried to exercise the very little restraint he was holding onto. It seemed to become increasingly difficult as you refused to move your hand away.

“I need you to take care of me and I’ll take care of you.” Finally releasing your grip on him, you exited out of the car and you didn’t have to look back to know he was falling you into the lobby of your apartment building.

After a silent elevator ride, with you tucked into his side you made the walk down the narrow hallway into your home, fidgeting to open the door with Steve’s hands caressing your sides. Carefully watching as you kicked off the painful heels, the bottom of your feet thankful, pulling you deeper into the apartment.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You retreated, afraid someone else might turn you down, too. If Steve did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s been your person you can count on and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

Stopping your movement once you reached your bedroom, you were still waiting for his response. Meticulously, he reached for hand before twirling you around your back pressed against his front. Sighing, when his hand dragged up your spine, while the other hung on your waist with his hand pressed against your stomach.

Pushing the thin strap of your velvet dress, letting it fall off your shoulder. Soft, firm lips touching your soft skin, you couldn’t help but lean back into him. Tilting your head back, offering yourself up to him on a silver platter.

His touch felt like heaven and you didn’t think you’d ever want him to leave. Not when you always felt safe wrapped up in his large muscular arms. Never making you question if you felt wanted.

“Right now, my body wants you as badly as it ever has.” Steve confessed while his lips migrated towards your neck, giving you some much needed attention.

“Does it?” You questioned him, losing any other train of thought as let his other hand push the other strap off your shoulder, the slinky dress falling to floor pooling at your feet.

“It does, sweetheart, but it’ll have to wait.” Already pouting like the brat you were, ready to seduce him right into filling you up, just like you brought him here tonight for.

Dropping down to your level, Steve whispers in your ear, “Because when I fuck you just the way your pussy is aching for it won’t be when you’re drunk, princess.” Throwing gasoline on the fire he created, sharply he bit your earlobe, making you moan.

“I’ve thought about this so much, princess. At first, I thought I would take you from behind, but then I wouldn’t see those begging, doe-eyes itching for a release.” You were trembling for him. His filthy words flooding straight to your slick, crying for him already.

“Maybe you’d want to ride me, huh? Do you want to fuck yourself on my fat cock?” At this point, if it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed if he found out just how wet you were. Your panties are completely ruined because of him.

“I want to ride you so bad, Stevie.” Maliciously, he laughed before giving your clothed pussy a rough slap, causing you to gasp out. Your nails digging themselves into his bicep as you reached for it.

“Well, if you had been a good girl, maybe I’d let you cum on my cock.” You turned around face to face, ready to bruise your knees for him in a heartbeat. In this space and time, you’ve never wanted anyone more.

Harshly, he gripped your chin as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, dragging it down so it plumped right back up. “Bucky will be here tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I took his precious little play thing home and he’s not gonna like that one bit.”

“He wants to have his cake and eat it, too. If you want to let him, by all means go right ahead. And if you don’t? You know where I live, princess.” Very much in contrast to the last few minutes, he sweetly kissed your cheek and headed out right back the door without so much as a second glance.

Leaving you with a hell of a lot to process.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tagging: @tonystankschild | @andromedasstarship | @tinylumpiaa | @brattycherubwrites | @bval-1 | @kayteewritessteve |

#ohhhh....this one got a lil spicy at the end ;) #to be continued.... #if i dont get lazy <3 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem reader #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x poc reader #steve rogers au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes x poc reader