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herrmannhalsteadproduction · 6 months

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Game Night 3: It’s Bex Ball, Bébés (Chapter One)

Summary: This is Part Twenty of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Swearing and a ridiculous amount of shenanigans

Chapter One

Otis

If Otis had known it would come down to this, he would never have agreed to join in on freaking Bex Ball.

He should have known. This was Bex they were talking about after all. She’d never let them play something normal like soccer or football, hell, Otis would’ve even taken volleyball. Not that Bex Ball hadn’t been fun—

It was just insane.

“Come on, Otis!” Bex squeezed his shoulders, trying to pump him up. “You’ve got this.”

He did not ‘got this.’

“Alright, settle down and shut up,” Chris called out to the teams. “Let’s finish this.”

Ruzek strutted over to stand in front of Otis and smirked. “Heard you might have a little performance trouble with this one,” he said.

Otis didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Ruzek could think whatever he wanted. Otis was going to focus on…focusing and beat this curse once and for all.

“Hands out,” Chris said, motioning at the space between them. Otis and Ruzek both lifted a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors, on three…”

He could do this.

Otis took a deep breath—

***

Three hours earlier

***

Will

“Come on!” Bex yelled down the hallway. “We can’t be late!”

She’d been on Will as soon as he’d come home from work—literally shoving a sandwich into his mouth and then shooing him toward the shower. It wasn’t like he had control over the ED. He’d come home as soon as he could, but apparently, they were still cutting it close.

Game Night was serious business. Especially this Game Night.

Will was both intrigued and slightly terrified by what Bex Ball might actually entail.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he hollered back as he came out of his room, pulling a shirt over his head. He stopped short when he saw her standing by the front door. “What the hell is that?”

“What’s what?” she asked, nonchalantly shifting the truly gigantic ball in her arms so she could see his face. Barely.

“The gigantic ball that’s almost as big as you!” Will squeezed past her and the freaking ball so he could get his shoes on.

“Isn’t it great?” Bex grinned at him, looking enormously pleased with herself. “We used to have a pretty big one at Chris and Cindy’s, but Lee Henry and Lukey popped it years ago. I found this one online. It got here just in time.”

He peered up at her as he tied his laces. “How were you planning on fitting it through the door?”

“It’ll fit,” Bex said confidently.

***

Five [curse-filled] minutes later.

***

Will

It did not fit.

“Well, shit.” Bex frowned down at the ball in her arms. “I guess I should have waited to blow it up.”

Will studied the ball, glancing between it and the door frame. “If we deflate it a little—”

“No, there’s no time,” Bex said, waving away his suggestion. “I’m gonna have to toss it to you.”

“Toss it—” His brain suddenly caught up with the mental leap hers had taken. “No. Bex! No. You are not throwing that thing at me from the balcony.”

“We’re not that high up! It’ll be fine.” She nudged him out the door, using the ball to help shove him into the hallway. “Hurry! Go!”

“Getting a little fast and loose with the definition of ‘fine’ today,” Will muttered to himself as he made his way downstairs. He stopped on the front steps, shaking his head. Why was he even agreeing to this? Trying to catch that thing would be a guaranteed to the ED and he’d never hear the end of that.

No, this—

“New plan, Will,” Bex yelled at him from the balcony. “The Tin Can’ll catch it!”

Before he could call back for her to stop for one freaking second, Bex was releasing the gigantic red ball and Will watched as it hurtled through the air toward her poor car.

The ball landed on the roof, rocking the Tin Can, before bouncing back up in the air and bumping against one of the first floor balconies. It dropped from there, bouncing a bit more when it landed on the patch of grass in front of the building and then rolling to a stop at Will’s feet.

Hunh. The Tin Can was made of sterner stuff that he’d though. Take that, Jay. He and Bex could pick out a solid car.

“See!” Bex was leaning over the side of their balcony, giving him a thumb’s up and a wide grin. “Worked like a charm! Stay there! I’ll be right down!”

The front door opened a disturbingly short about of time later—seriously, had she leapt down the stairwell or something?—and Bex went whizzing past him, kicking the ball back toward her car while she went.

“Not even a scratch,” Bex declared as she peered at the roof of the Tin Can. She patted it fondly and then went around to open the rear door of the station wagon. Will winced as she tried to shove the ball into the back.

“Bex, there’s no way you’re gonna get the door closed,” he said.

“Way ahead of you.” She whipped a pile of bungie cords out of her pocket. “Come on! Help me strap it in and let’s gooooooo!”

It took some wrangling, but they managed to secure it and then Bex poked at him to get in as she headed for the driver’s seat.

“You know, for someone who was not very into the whole outdoor aspect of this game night,” he began as he put on his seat belt. “You’re pretty chock full of enthusiasm.”

“That was before,” she said, starting up the car. “Now? It’s Bex Ball.”

“Still don’t know what that means,” Will said.

“You will.” Bex let out what he would absolutely classify as an evil laugh and Will’s terror began to outweigh his intrigue. She flapped a hand at him. “Help me look for cars because I can’t see shit out of the back.”

He craned his neck, trying to keep an eye out.

On the bright side, at least if they backed into anyone, they’d bounce.

***

Jay

Hailey stood beside Jay as they watched Bex muscle a truly gigantic ball out of the back of the Tin Can. It was at least three feet wide. Maybe four.

“Is this…like…a belated hazing or something?” she asked, shooting a glance at him.

“Nope,” Jay laughed. “I mean, you were at the Grudge Match, right?”

Hailey raised her eyebrows with a reluctant nod.

“Yeah,” he said. “Stuff like this is pretty much par for the course around here.” He paused, shaking his head at the sight of Bex hefting the ball over her head and chucking it at Will as he tried to run for cover behind unsuspecting Connor.

The ball bowled both of them over and Bex fell down in a laughing heap beside them.

“Uh, tonight might be a little more out there than usual though.” Jay bumped shoulders with her. “Come on,” he said, nudging her toward the group. “We can be on the same team and watch each other’s backs.”

She went willingly enough—Jay was pretty sure she was mostly just curious about what the hell was going to happen tonight. She wasn’t the only one. Bex and Chris had been extremely tight lipped about what exactly was involved with Bex Ball.

Bex had assembled a good-sized gang for the event. Aside from Jay and Hailey, they also had Mouse, Kevin, Kim, Adam, Julie, and Sam to represent 21. Sylvie was there along with Otis, Joe, Shay, Kelly, Stella, Matt, and Gabi from 51. Ethan and April had also tagged along with Will and Connor and Emery had somehow gotten roped in too.

Plus, they had an audience: Bex’s friends Kira, Malia, Isaac, and Devon had arrived loaded down with snacks and lawn chairs. And signs. They had Lexi Olinsky in tow which Jay was going to have to get the scoop on from Bex later. He’d heard something about Emery taking her under her wing? Al seemed less stressed about her lately so whatever was happening, it must be helping.

Beside Bex’s gang, Platt and Mouch had their own little set-up and the two groups were already swapping containers of food back and forth.

Knowing that crew, they’d also be trading bets soon enough.

Chris and Cindy were standing at the side of the field Bex had booked for the occasion; both of them with a shiny new whistle around their necks. Chief Boden and his wife Donna were babysitting the rugrats so they could come out and referee and Jay knew Bex had made more than a few cookie promises to swing that one. Judging by the smiles Chris and Cindy were sporting, it was worth it.

A piercing whistle blew through the air and Chris waved them all into a huddle. “Alright,” he said. “We’re gonna go over the rules, then we’ll divide into two teams, and then…we’ll play some Bex Ball.” He chuckled to himself and sighed. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Really, Herrmann?” Otis asked. “Over marrying Cindy and the birth of your many children?”

“Over winning the Grudge Match?” Cruz piped up.

“He’s waited a long time to share the joy of Bex Ball with people,” Cindy laughed.

“Inflict, you mean,” Chris muttered under his breath with a grin that was giving Jay a bad feeling. Cindy elbowed him and Chris straightened up. “Okay, rule time,” he said. “They’re barely comprehensible—”

“Hey!” Bex protested from the back of the group. “I mean…fair, but hey.”

“—so pay attention,” he carried on, ignoring her. “This is our field of play.” He pointed at the area behind them. It was kind of ratty with patchy grass, but a nice size.

Chris explained that since the ball was so big, the whole width of each end of the field was the goal line. Whoever got stuck as goalkeeper was going to have to be fast on their feet.

“So, we’re basically playing soccer, but with a giant ball?” Julie asked.

“I haven’t gotten to the play modes yet,” Chris said, smirking as he held up a finger.

Play modes? Jay craned his neck to shoot a WTF look at Bex—who wasn’t even paying attention. She was currently tucked into Mouse’s side as they giggled about something and Jay forgot about listening to the the rules as he watched them for a moment. He hadn’t seen either of them smile like that for way too long.

He waited for that familiar wave of loneliness to flare up, but…there was nothing. He was just happy. Happy for the two of them. Happy to be out with all of their friends.

It was nice.

Bex looked up and caught his eye. He smiled at her and she grinned back before pointing to Chris and mouthing ‘pay attention!’ at Jay.

He stuck out his tongue just to make her roll her eyes and then turned back to the front where Chris was talking about…flamingo mode?

What the f—

***

Sylvie

Kevin jogged up beside her as their team headed to their end of the field. “Hey,” he said, grinning down at her. “Excited for your first game night?”

“I think so?” Sylvie laughed. “I’m a little concerned about that gleam in Herrmann’s eye, but if you’re gonna be my buddy, I think I’ll survive.”

That had been part of the rules. Everyone had to have a buddy in place for some of the play modes? Sylvie didn’t quite have it all straight yet. She’d been expecting something more like ultimate frisbee? In hindsight, knowing this crew, that had been unrealistic on her part.

She was still game! For whatever was about to happen, lord help her.

“Happy to be your buddy,” Kevin said. He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a quick kiss. She leaned into it even though she was sure she was blushing down to her toes.

Things had been building between them for a few months now and they’d kept it quiet at first. Dating and kissing in front of everyone else had netted her a healthy dose of teasing from pretty much everyone they knew lately, but despite the blushing, Sylvie took it in stride.

Hard not to when she was so ‘disgustingly happy’ according to Otis. Not to compare boyfriends, but everything with Harrison had been so forced. Like she was checking off boxes with him. Being with Kevin somehow managed to be both fun and interesting and easy and comfortable all at the same time.

Which at first seemed suspiciously too good to be true. Gabi, Shay, and Stella had spent one long wine night talking her through the panic about when the other shoe would drop and helped her realize that sometimes you could just…actually be on the same page as someone.

She knew organizing this Game Night had been a feat, but she was so grateful to Bex for doing it. Getting to know Kevin’s friends and having him spend more time with hers felt like another important step. She didn’t see much of the Intelligence crew outside of Molly’s or at work, but hopefully this would open the doors to more hangouts in the future.

A laugh slipped out as she watched Matt chuck the ball at an unsuspecting Severide, knocking him off his feet.

More hangouts, but maybe with less projectiles.

***

Kelly

“So, it’s basically like soccer,” Kelly said to Stella and Shay.

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Shay argued and Kelly shook his head.

“Yeah, there’s some twists, but it’s a game Bex started when she was what? Four?” He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s going to be that diff—”

A flash of red was all he caught out of the corner of his eye before a force knocked him off his feet and down to the grass below.

Kelly groaned, blinking until his eyes focused on the freaking red ball rolling away and freaking Casey bent over, killing himself laughing. Kelly scrambled to his feet.

“Oh, it’s on now.”

***

Cindy

“Are there rules about hitting the other players with the ball?” she asked Chris as she looked through the pages of instructions Bex had left with them.

“Eh.” Chris waffled his head back and forth. “How about, you get a point if it was funny and you lose a point if it was a low blow.”

That sounded fair. Cindy added it to the list.

***

Otis

Otis bit back a sigh as he joined his team.

He was surrounded by couples.

His team had Bex and Mouse and Kevin and Sylvie who were all in their honeymoon period and Matt and Gabi. Jay and Hailey weren’t a couple…as far as he knew, but they were still partners. That left Bex’s friends Emery and Sam, but he barely knew them. Once again, he was the odd man out. They hadn’t even let him and Joe be on the same team!

Although, his team was marginally better than Joe’s. Literally everyone on his team was coupled up. Looked like both of them were going to spend the night as goalkeepers.

Otis trudged toward the end of the field when Bex called out his name.

“Where are you going?” she asked as she ran up to him.

“Figured I’d be in goal since I don’t have a buddy,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Bex shook her head. “No, no, no,” she said. “We’re gonna put Sam and his freakishly long arms in goal.” She grabbed his arm and started towing him along behind her. “You’re going to be Emery’s buddy.”

Hang on—

“Otis, you remember Emery,” Bex said, depositing him in front of a pretty blonde he’d seen a couple of times at Molly’s and definitely at the grudge match.

“Right.” Otis reached out to shake the hand she offered. “I remember the heckling.”

“Awesome.” Bex patted both of their shoulders. “So, you’re basically already friends. Have fun!” She trotted off, leaving them standing in awkward silence.

“Otis,” Emery said, rocking back on her heels with her hands in her pockets. “That’s, uh, that’s a cool name.”

“Oh,” Otis laughed. “It’s not my name. They just call me that because—well, it’s a long, weird firefighter thing, but my name’s Brian. Brian Zvonecek.”

Emery’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t know. Do you prefer Brian?”

“I’ve pretty much given up on being called anything but Otis by this crowd,” he said with a little shrug.

She stuck out her hand again, waiting for him to take it. “It’s nice to meet you, Brian,” she said, grinning as they shook again.

Oh. He ducked his head, his own smile sneaking across his face. He didn’t mind that at all.

“So,” Emery said, glancing around at the two teams. “I’ve just been dipping my toes back into the whole socializing thing—”

“Right,” Otis nodded. “I heard about—” He cut himself off, wanting to smack himself in the face when he realized what he’d just said. Like she wanted to talk about that. Ugh.

“Well, that saves us some time on the intros,” Emery said, a wry twist to her mouth. She waved off his apology before he could even get it out. “Have you ever been to one of these Game Nights before?”

“No.” Otis shook his head, grateful for the change in subject. “I think this is the first one they’ve done with this many people. Have you?”

“I’ve done small ones with her and Will and Connor,” she said. “Sometimes Jay, but not with the whole group. I wasn’t even planning on coming to this one, but you know how it is with Bex. You ask her how her day was and then before you know it, you’ve been added to the roster of some kind of ridiculous shenanigan.”

Otis nodded sagely. “I am familiar with this experience.

“Well, then, Brian, my buddy,” Emery said, bumping her shoulder against his. “Ready to get ridiculous?”

“I was born to be ridiculous.” Wait. That sounded better in his head. Why couldn’t he ever just say something cool—

“Today must be my lucky day then,” Emery laughed.

Hunh. He was beginning to think it might be his too.

***

Will

Will and Connor stood together at their end of the field. Joe was hanging out in the goal area and the rest of their team was scattered in a loose formation. They had a pretty solid group. Aside from the three of them, there was Adam, Kim, Shay, Julie, Kelly, Stella, Ethan, and April. An even match for Bex’s team.

It had taken a few minutes to get everyone organized and ready—with a delay after Matt knocked Kelly over with the ball and then Kelly chased him around with it, trying to get him back—but now it looked like they were finally starting.

Chris blew the whistle and tossed the ball into the middle of the field. There was a mad dash as everyone started kicking it around and also leaping out of its way. Then Cindy pulled out a megaphone. She clicked it on and all you could hear at first was her and Chris giggling before she finally managed to yell out, “Hot Potato!”

Crap. Which one was that again?

Will watched as Bex picked up the ball and tossed it over to Jay who instantly threw it to Hailey who turned around and tossed it Gabi, but it got intercepted by Shay who tossed it to Kelly.

Right. No holding onto the ball for longer than a second.

Connor ran by him, catching the ball and tossing it to Adam. “Bex ball!” he yelled back at Will with a joyful smile on his face.

It certainly was.

Will jumped into the fray with a grin of his own.

***

Matt

“Squad mode!” Cindy yelled out and Matt looked around for Gabi. She was already booking it across the field, linking arms with him as soon as she reached his side.

“How’s it going, buddy?” she asked, holding on tight to his arm.

“Even better now,” Matt said. He had no idea what was happening for most of this game and yet he was having a blast. The two of them ran forward, attempting to kick at the ball together without falling on their faces or their asses.

They were halfway successful.

***

Emery

Emery might murder Bex over flamingo mode.

She was currently hopping up and down on one foot and praying no one tossed the ball her way. Otis—Brian was hopping beside her, cursing under his breath, and Emery appreciated the solidarity. She kind of felt like she might have made a new friend tonight? Bex might have a point about the whole expanding your circle thing—shit!

Emery threw her arms up as Connor's throw went wide and headed her way, stomach turning as she realized exactly how this was going to play out. Between the momentum of her arms going up, the force of the ball hurtling her way, and the fact that she was standing on one freaking leg—she didn’t stand a chance.

She caught the ball and fell backwards with a shriek, taking Brian with her.

“Oh, crap! Emery!” Connor hopped over as fast as he could. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she yelled, struggling to disentangle herself from Brian. She spotted Jay and Hailey hopping up fast behind him. “Guys, get the ball!”

“Hey, I don't think so!” Connor swooped down, like some sort of elegant frickin’ crane, and grabbed the ball. He tossed it to Ethan and hopped off.

“Do you think anyone will notice if we just stay down here?” Emery muttered to Brian. They were off to the side. People could play around them.

He laughed and got to his feet. “Come on, buddy,” Brian said, reaching down to give her a hand up. “As Commander Taggart once said, ‘Never give up—”

“Never surrender,” Emery finished for him as she got to her feet. She caught his surprised look as she brushed off her pants. “Connor made us all watch Galaxy Quest a few weeks ago. It’s one of his guilty pleasure movies.” She held a finger up to her lips when he got a sparkle in his eyes at that little tidbit.

“Won’t tell a soul.” Brian crossed his heart. “Never would have pegged him for a secret nerd though.”

“You have no idea,” Emery laughed. “Find a way to casually bring up Star Trek sometime and see for yourself.”

“Emery! Otis!” Bex yelled over at them. “We’re still in flamingo mode! Come on!”

Brian matched her groan as they both lifted a leg. “I’m gonna flamingo her mode.”

“Don’t make me have to avenge her, dude,” Emery said. “My leg will be so strong after today. I’ll be able to do serious damage.”

“Just the one leg though,” Brian pointed out. “Won’t that mean you’ll just run in circles when you try to chase me?”

Emery snorted. And then switch legs. “There. Now I’ll be invincible.”

“Consider me warned,” Brian said, holding his hands up. Then his face twisted in alarm right as a red blur whizzed past her and took him out.

“My bad!” Adam yelled.

***

Joe

Joe watched his friends galloping across the field for Pony Mode and decided maybe being goalkeeper wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Trudy

Trudy sipped at her drink and watched their gang of idiots scamper around on the field.

“You know,” she mused to her fellow spectators. “I think Bex might just be a genius.”

Mouch, Kira, Malia, Lexi, Devon, and Isaac all nodded as they munched on their snacks and took pictures.

She managed to catch one of Chuckles biting the dust when the big red ball hit him square in the butt.

Seriously.

A goddamn genius.

***

Connor

Connor took a swig of his water bottle while they all stood off to the side for the short breather Chris had granted them. It was hot enough that none of them wanted to risk dehydration.

Ooh. Hot enough for his boyfriend to be taking off his shirt too. Connor watched Will use his shirt to wipe at his forehead and waggled his eyebrows at him when they made eye contact.

Will smirked back, taking the time to slowly stretch.

April came to stand beside Connor, holding her cold drink against the side of her neck. “Next time, I’m hanging out with the spectators,” she said, sighing as she watched Ethan also pulling his shirt off. “Or we play in the fall or something because this is…phew!” She fanned at her face.

Connor laughed. ‘Phew’ pretty much covered it. “I don’t know if I’d want to sit out,” he said. “It’s weird, but it’s fun. Although I have no idea what the score is right now.” Goals had been made, but Cindy and Chris had also been gleefully tossing out bonus points and penalties seemingly at random. Connor had given up trying to keep track.

A shrill whistle cut through the air—case in point. “Will! Ethan!” Chris called out. “Minus two points for peacocking!”

“For what?” Will asked while Ethan shook his head. “We’re not even playing right now!”

“Still counts!” Chris declared. “Put your dang shirts back on.”

April shot Connor a look. “Well, whatever the score was, at least now we know it’s two points less.”

“Break’s done!” Cindy called out. “Back on the field!”

Bex ran by, cackling as she bopped Will and Connor on the head with the ball. “Bex Ball!”

“Come on,” Will grabbed his hand and pulled him on to the field. “We’ve got points to make up.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Shush. You liked it.”

Connor pulled him in for a sweaty kiss because he really did.

***

Sam

Sam sighed as he watched the two teams move across the field in slow motion.

He did a killer sloth. Bex knew that.

Next time, he was putting his foot down. He wasn’t about to get stuck as goalkeeper again.

Sam shook his head at Emery’s lackluster form.

Honestly.

***

Bex

Bex’s head whipped around as she looked for Mouse. Chris had just called for Koala Mode and she needed her buddy. They spotted each other at the same time and he crouched down as she ran over, ready for her to leap onto his back.

He grabbed on tight when she landed, keeping a secure hold on her legs. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and leaned over his shoulder. “Hey, Mouse,” she whispered.

“Hey, Bex.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw the ball go that way,” she continued, pointing at a wooded area just off to the right of the field.

“Oh, really?” Mouse hummed as he watched Jay kicking the ball over to Kevin. “That’s no good. What should we do?”

“We should probably go find it.” She pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “So the game’s not ruined.”

“Can’t have that,” Mouse said, lips quirking up into a little grin. He took a quick look around, making sure everyone was focused on the ball at the other end of the field. Then he took off, moving surprisingly fast considering he was carrying her at the same time.

Hunh. Mouse was a lot stronger than he looked. Bex’s brain filed that very interesting bit of information away.

…how many days until Friday?

He wove through the trees and set her down gently once they were behind a fairly large one. “You know,” he said slowly, leaning back against the tree. “I thought I was supposed to be the bad influence in this relationship.”

“Who said that?” Bex stepped into his arms and slid her hands into his hair, drawing his head down for a quick kiss. “I’ll kick their butts.”

“Aw, thanks babe.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

“Anytime,” Bex said, grinning up at him. “But our team’s going to notice we’re gone soon so—less talking, more kissing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

Jay

Jay kicked at the ball and fought to keep his balance with Hailey on his back. It took a quick sidestep, but he managed to stay on his feet.

Koala Mode was intense. He felt like he was running around way more than before trying to keep up their defense and—

Wait a minute.

Something was off. He looked around and did a quick head count and—hey. “Where did Mouse and Bex go?” he asked Hailey.

“They went that way about five minutes ago.” She leaned over his shoulder to point at a wooded area off to the right.

Oh, hell no. He was not suffering through this alone. This whole thing was her idea! Jay marched over to the edge of the field as Hailey snickered into his back.

“Rebecca Marie Herrmann!”

***

Mouse

Uh-oh. Mouse’s eyes went wide. “You just got full named.”

Bex rolled her eyes with a sigh. “You know, he actually took longer to notice than I thought he would.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s go back before he full names you.”

Oh, no way was that happening. “Hop on.” Mouse crouched down so she could jump on his back and took off; Bex’s laughter filling his ears.

***

Chris

They had come to the end of their allotted play time and the game was tied.

Mostly because he and Bex had decided that would be the most hilarious outcome, but no one else needed to know that.

He and Cindy gathered both teams in the middle of the field. “We have a tie,” Chris declared.

“How do you even know that?” Otis burst out.

“Because, Otis,” Chris said patiently. “Unlike you, I have been keeping score.” He looked everywhere but at Cindy because as soon as they made eye contact, he’d break. He could not blow this by giggling. Bex would murder him.

“As per the rules,” he said, ignoring Jay’s snort. “In this situation, we play the tie-breaker game.”

“Is that…something other than Bex Ball?” Will asked cautiously. Skirting the edge of hopeful.

“Yes.” Chris nodded. “And it’s one round. Winner takes all.”

“Sudden death!” Bex cheered.

“One representative from each team, please come forward,” Chris said, stepping back.

After a few hushed, but fierce negotiations, Otis and Adam were pushed into the centre of the group. Chris held up a hand for quiet.

“The game is rock, paper, scissors.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Otis yelled.

***

Otis

He was sweating. This was not good. His team members from 51 were whispering furiously to the others behind him while the ones on the other team grinned widely from behind Adam.

So sure they had it in the bag because of this ‘tell’ they swore he had.

Severide pulled Adam back and began whispering to him; probably sharing said tell.

Otis had gone over it in his brain a thousand times and he was sure he didn’t have one, but the fact was, he never won rock, paper, scissors. Either he had a tell or he just sucked at it.

“Are we allowed to swap our player?” Gabi joked, but Chris shot her down.

“Nope,” he said. “Players are locked in.”

“Come on, Otis!” Bex squeezed Otis’s shoulders, trying to pump him up. “You’ve got this.”

He did not ‘got this.’

“Alright, settle down and shut up,” Chris called out to the teams who were all talking excitedly for two very different reasons. “Let’s finish this.”

Adam strutted back up to stand in front of Otis and smirked. “Heard you might have a little performance trouble with this one,” he said.

Otis didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Freaking Ruzek could think whatever he wanted. Otis was going to focus on…focusing and beat this curse once and for all.

“Hands out,” Chris said, motioning at the space between them. Otis and Ruzek both lifted a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors, on three…”

He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

Otis took a deep breath—

“Hey,” Emery popped up beside him. “Remember. Never give up…”

“Never surrender,” he said. She stepped back with a smile and a nod.

He could DO THIS.

Otis stared down Ruzek and the other team and threw both hands up in the air. “I’m going rock!”

***

Adam

Adam took a step back at Otis’s declaration. Was he serious?

He shot a look over at Severide who looked stunned before shaking it off with a wave of his hand. ‘He’s bluffing’ he mouthed at him.

Was he though?

Otis had a manic look in his eye as he put his fist out.

Adam squinted at him, trying to look for the clues the other team had told him about. Chris began his countdown and Adam had to go with his gut.

And Severide.

It was a bluff.

It had to be.

…Adam went scissors.

***

Kelly

Well, crap.

Otis really went rock.

***

Otis

His team exploded once they realized what happened and Chris had to yell above their cheers to declare them the winners.

He did it. He really did it.

“Good job, buddy,” Emery said, punching him in the shoulder. “Knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, buddy,” he grinned.

“Okay, teams, pack it up!” Bex yelled. “We’re all meeting up the diner after this. Dessert is on the winning team!”

Oh, right. He forgot about that part.

…still worth it.

***

Jay

Chris, Cindy, Mouch, and Platt had gone back to the Herrmann house to hang out with Donna and Boden for a bit before calling it a night.

Even with them bowing out, their gang took up most of the diner. Luckily, Bex had called ahead to make sure they had space. Everyone was table hopping, enjoying the chance to catch up and chat. Jay was currently at a table with Hailey, Emery, Otis, Connor, and Will.

He noticed Connor elbow Will and nod at something across the aisle. Will looked over and smiled softly at whatever Connor had pointed out.

So, of course, the rest of them all craned their necks to look too.

“Nice,” Will said. “Real subtle, guys.”

It didn’t actually matter that they were being completely obvious because the people they were looking at were completely oblivious.

Mouse and Bex sat side by side in a booth. His arm was around her, their heads tipped toward each other as they talked. And—Jay couldn’t help the little snort that slipped out when he noticed—they were busy swapping a bit of their meals on each other’s plates so they could each have fries and onion rings.

“Well,” Hailey said as they turned back around. “They’re kind of stupidly cute.”

“They really are,” Emery said, swirling a fry through her milkshake. “I’m happy for her.”

“We all are,” Will agreed.

“I know.” Emery did a little head bob, acknowledging that. “But—” She bit her lip as she searched for her next words. “I know you guys know about AJ, but you weren’t there for it.” She sighed. “You know how Bex is. She puts her whole heart into everything and he might have said he wasn’t looking for anything serious, but he didn’t always act that way and he gave her such mixed signals. He was a greedy asshole who took and gave her nothing in return.”

Jay knew he should have punched him when he had the chance.

“It’s just—after all of that and after everything with Mouse,” Emery said, smiling as she watched them. “It’s so good to see them finally get here. To know that Bex is with someone as all in as she is. She deserves that. They both do.”

“He came by last night,” Will said, sharing a little look with Emery and Connor before grinning over at Jay’s side of the table. “Just to say good night to her.”

Jay stopped with his drink halfway to his mouth as he processed that. “He was at my place to watch the game last night,” he said. “He lives in the opposite direction of yours...”

"Guess he took the long way home," Connor said softly.

Hailey and Otis sighed beside Jay. “Stupidly cute,” Hailey said again as Otis nodded.

Not that Jay had any doubts left about the two of them, but if he did, the last couple of days would have evaporated them completely.

He turned around to take another little peek at them.

And squinted.

“Is that a hickey on Mouse’s neck?”

Everyone at the table shuffled around to join in on his peering.

“Yup,” Emery said.

“One hundred percent,” Hailey agreed.

Well, that was enough people watching for Jay. “Who wants pie?”

Five hands shot up.

***

Kevin

Kevin walked Sylvie to her door.

“Well?” he asked, leaning up against the frame. “What did you think?”

“I would call that a very successful mingling of the friend groups,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “We should definitely do that more often.”

“Yeah,” Kevin agreed. “Except maybe next time—”

“Not Bex Ball,” Sylvie said quickly and he nodded.

“I’m putting that firmly in the once a year category,” he said. It was fun, but they’d gotten lucky this time. Putting that game in the regular rotation was asking for bloodshed.

“Maybe a movie night or something,” Sylvie mused and he could practically see the lists being written in her head.

“I’m up for anything,” Kevin said. “As long as it’s with you.”

“Mm. Smooth talker.” Sylvie grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a slow kiss. Then she unlocked the door. “Want come inside and talk some more?”

Kevin grinned and let her tug him inside.

***

Bex

“So, today is Wednesday,” Bex said as Mouse walked her to her car. “And tomorrow is Thursday.”

“I believe that is how the days of the week go,” Mouse said. “Yes.”

She rolled her eyes and tugged on his hand. “I just want Friday to get here faster.”

“Two more sleeps.” Mouse grinned at her. “Almost there.”

“You should come to Molly’s tomorrow night,” she said. “And help me close. We can send the rest of the staff home early and make out on the bar.”

“Bad influence,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

“That’s not a no,” she whispered against his lips.

Mouse pressed her against the side of her car and kissed her thoroughly. “It’s a yes,” he said, eyes going bright. “And then it’ll only be one more sleep.”

“Aha! A perfect plan.” Bex hugged him. “We’re good at this.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, a note of pleased surprise running through it. “We are.”

Click here to read Chapter Two.

Click here to read Game Night 3: It’s Bex Ball, Bébés on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @iunnowatuwant, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou,

#A Herrmann/Halstead Production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #jay halstead #will halstead #christopher herrmann #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #a herrmann/halstead production #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #romance #fluff #shenanigans #team as family #friendship

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ziptiesnfries · 9 months

Text

Captured

Roux & Ambrose masterpost

CWs: kidnapping, knives, creepy/affectionate whumper, drugging w/ needles, referenced past torture

It’s almost eight weeks before Roux is allowed out on a job again. It wasn’t supposed to be that long—they were just supposed to take enough time off for their finger to heal—but the team has been a little … over-protective. Sometimes it seems like they were more rattled by Roux’s torture than Roux was. Normally, it wouldn’t bother Roux that much; they know their team cares about them, and it’s nice to be cared about. But after what happened with Ambrose, Roux isn’t in the mood to be coddled. They just want to get back to work.

The job is to pass off a flash drive to a client. The location is a busy coffeehouse in broad daylight—very low-risk. Roux is a little irritated that Lyon is starting them off with something so easy, but they don’t complain about it. Soon he’ll be assigning them real missions again. For now, they’ll at least prove to him that they can handle this.

It goes off without a hitch. Roux meets the client, a dark-haired woman in a pantsuit, and slides the flash drive across the table. Aside from some bickering about their age—Are you old enough to be doing this?; Hey, listen, do you want the drive or not?—the client is respectful, checking the contents of the drive on her laptop before dismissing them. It takes five minutes. Easy.

They shoot off a text to Lyon on their way out: Done. I’ll be back in 20. Then they pocket their phone and head back to their car. Maybe after this, Lyon will give them a job that actually takes longer to do than it takes to get there …

As they cross the parking lot, a figure comes out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around them. Roux jumps, beginning to pull away—but they freeze as a cold blade slides under their shirt, pressing against their skin. “There you are,” purrs a low voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Roux’s blood runs cold as they recognize him: Ambrose. How the hell did he …?

Panic squeezes their chest, but they stay very still, eyes darting around. The parking lot is in the back of the coffee house. None of the windows face out this way, and there’s no one else out here. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Before they can gather their wits, Ambrose continues, “Do you have a phone on you, sweetheart?”

Roux can hear the blood rushing in their ears, and their own voice sounds far away when they respond, “No.”

The knife presses into their skin, threatening to draw blood, as Ambrose chuckles. “You little liar. Take it out and drop it.”

Feeling numb, they do as they’re told. The crack of their phone against the pavement makes them wince. Lyon should be able to track my phone, they think to themself, a ghost of hope. But they just told him they’d be back in twenty minutes. By the time Lyon realizes anything’s wrong, they could be anywhere. It would’ve been better to keep their phone on them, but with the knife pressed against their stomach, they’re not going to risk grabbing it.

“Good.” Ambrose’s breath brushes their ear, and they swallow down the bile crawling up their throat. “Now come with me.”

Briskly, with the blade still pressed against them, he walks them to the edge of the parking lot. Out of the corner of their eye, they see him fiddling with a key fob, and the trunk of a sleek black car pops open as the two of them approach. “Get in,” says Ambrose.

Their heart leaps into their throat, and they decide, in that moment, that they would rather die than get in Ambrose’s trunk. They grab his wrist and wrench the knife away as they twist away from him. He shoves them, and their back hits the tail light.

When they met him before, they were either sitting or kneeling, so they didn’t exactly have a concept of just how tall he is. He looms over them, his body pinning theirs in place, and suddenly the knife is against their neck. They swallow as he meets their eyes. “I’d really hate to hurt you, sweetheart,” he says, and he looks like he means it, even as he presses the knife into the soft, vulnerable skin of their throat. “But I will if I have to.”

“What do you want?” They wince at the feebleness of their own voice. Some distant part of their brain scolds them for not handling this better. They’ve been in more dangerous situations than this without panicking. But with Ambrose pressed up against them, staring at them like that …

“You,” he whispers. A violent chill runs down their spine, and they stare at him. He tilts his head and smiles, his gaze filled with affection. “I just want you.”

They hear a little pop, and they don’t have time to react before something sharp jabs into their shoulder. A moment later, Ambrose holds up an empty syringe and pulls the knife away from their throat. “There,” he says. “Now you’ll be a little more compliant, hm?”

Panic spikes through them, and they curse themself for letting Ambrose distract them like that. They shove him away, but they don’t get very far before he grabs the collar of their shirt, hauling them back to the car. “Let go of—mmph!”

His hand clamps down over their mouth. They desperately hope that someone heard them yelling, but it still doesn’t seem like there’s anyone else around. “Shh,” he murmurs, shoving them towards the trunk. “Just relax, you’ll be asleep soon.”

Their breath comes in short gasps through their nose as he manhandles them into the trunk, keeping his hand over their mouth until the last possible second. The moment he lets go, they scream as loud as they can—even though they’re already inside the trunk, even though their limbs are growing weak and their eyelids heavy—they scream. This time, Ambrose doesn’t even try to shut them up. He just nudges their limbs out of the way and slams the trunk shut.

They pound against the ceiling, their throat turning raw as the engine roars to life. They only stop to gasp for air. They’ve never been claustrophobic, so maybe it’s the drugs or the adrenaline coursing through them, but suddenly they feel like they can’t breathe. Spots dance in their vision, and they gulp in a lungful of air, feeling panicked and stupid and dizzy.

Slowly but surely, their struggles grow weaker. They’re clinging to consciousness by a thread, trying to pay attention to where the car might be going, but all they can feel is rocking, bumping motions as the car speeds along. Their hands fall limply to their chest, and their ragged breathing slows as everything finally fades away.

#zipwrites #oc: ambrose lacrosse #oc: roux #affectionate whumper #creepy whumper #whump writing #whump #kidnapping tw #drugging tw #knives tw #love me a classic kidnapping :)#roux & ambrose

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frankenfaandom · 2 years

Text

Mary goore angst? Mary goore angst. I want him to hurt </3

It was raining so hard you were afraid you'd missed a tornado warning. And when a thud sounded from the front door, you were absolutely positive that a tree had fallen and landed on your porch.

But, no.

You opened the door to find a blank looking Mary Goore. Jesus. He looked like shit, more-so than normal--pale, eyes dark. He wouldn't look at you.

"Mary?" You shoved the door open upon recognizing him, ushering him inside and out of the rain. He was soaked head to toe, completely drenched, unsurprisingly trailing puddles and mud through your house as he walked seemingly aimless.

He looked boneless. He looked tired. He looked -quite honestly- like he wanted to be dead.

You were quick to walk after him, calling his name again as you stepped around the messy floor. He found his way to your room before you could've told him no to laying on your freshly washed sheets.

Well, they were wet now. And Mary was just, laying on his back on your bed, stuffed animals falling all around him as he dipped into the comforter.

His eyes shut and he just, he just laid there. You let him, watching him from the doorway as he just breathed. He was acting like a robot on autopilot, if autopilot was "relax or else you will let hell break loose."

After about twenty minutes of leaving Mary to your bed alone, you entered your room again but with a cup of water and a joint. Maybe he just needed an upper.

When you peeked inside, he wasn't laying down anymore. He was sitting off the side of your bed, legs hanging off with his then bare feet. His jacket was thrown across the room, but his shirt and way-too-skinny-skinny-jeans were still worn, regardless of the way he shivered under your fan.

He held his head in his hands.

You knocked on the doorframe as you entered, finding your way to be seated next to the... terrifyingly quiet young man.

"Mary.. look, you.." He winced at your words, his hands grabbing strands of his hair, before letting go. He sat up straighter, looking at you. He was, desperately trying to hold it together--the red of his eyes giving it all away.

You felt your shoulders fall, right hand grabbing his thigh softly. "...you don't have to tell me what's going on. But, I'm here..."

His face contorts. It's like he wasn't really looking at you, more like looking at the side of your face. He couldn't handle the eye contact--but he couldn't be alone.

The vein in his forehead popped, and he looked away.

"I'm always here." And at that he kind of just, dropped it all.

His hands began to shake as he wiped his face more times than he needed to. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck." His voice was strained, like he'd been screaming all night. Not all that different than usual, that was kind of his thing. But this was different.

"I can't, I can't keep doing this shit." His voice quivered. "I'm fucking lost."

Your heart broke a little. His face and composure , eyebrows contorting into confusion, anger, fear--his mouth opening but no sound would come out.

Then he just started crying.

It was like when he was finally calm, the tears started again.

You could only pull him close, bruising his hair back and trying to comfort him any way you could. It was.. terrifying. This man? Falling apart in front of you?

You had to blink away tears a few times, and when Mary hunched in your arms you just had enough. You held him close, not caring anymore for physical limitations. He needed to be held, to be helped.

But you didn't know how. You didn't even know where to start.

#mary goore #angst #ghost bc #repugnant #mary goore headcanons #mary goore angst

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queen-rainy-love · 1 year

Text

New Year Concert part 1

Time to start a new arc! I hope you guys enjoy this.

*The scene is set at the New Year's Eve concert venue. It's twenty minutes before the event starts and Parfait and Pastry were walking toward Parfait's dressing room.*

Parfait: I cannot wait! This will be the biggest concert of the year!

Pastry: It is the last one of the year. There's not much to come after.

Parfait: And all the musicians here!

Pastry: It will be interesting. And thank you for inviting me. I did not believe you would do that. I thought you would have brought your sister or your boyfriend.

Parfait: Of course! I want my best friend to enjoy her first-ever concert! And what better way than a backstage pass! Besides, Licorice went on a mission, and Black Garlic...is banned from coming backstage.

Pastry: Best...friend?

Parfait: Oh yeah! As in I trust you a lot and I cherish you so much! Not to say I don't trust the girls in our squad but I feel like we can easily talk about anything!

*Pastry shyly smiled as the duo kept walking toward the dressing room. Despite the backstage crew running around, it was quite calming. At least it was...until the girls finally got to Parfait's dressing room. The pop star gasped in excitement.*

Pastry: What is it?

Parfait: It's them! *points at the black door next to Parfait's pink door* It's B.A.D. 4! We have to go say hi!

Pastry: Maybe we shouldn't. We might distract them from focusing on their part.

Parfait: But-!

Pastry: We must leave them be. And you still have to get ready. Unless you wish to perform in sweatpants.

Parfait: *looks down at herself to see her very casual wear* OMG! You're right!! And I don't have a lot of time! Let's go go go!!!

*Parfait then pushes Pastry into the dressing room and closes the door behind them. Meanwhile, on the other side of B.A.D. 4's door, Red Velvet and Licorice-oh, I'm sorry.-Hell Hound and ZZ Skull was leaning on it, freaking out. MUSHY P. and T.N.T. watched all this go down.*

ZZ Skull: That was too close!

Hell Hound: Tell me something I don't know!!!

T.N.T.: What's so wrong about other Cookies seeing you?

Hell Hound: I'm a high-ranking soldier in this kingdom and the second prince of the Vanilla Kingdom. My family will embarrass me for years if they find out!

ZZ Skull: And as much as I love my Parfait...she's a blabbermouth. Every Cookie will know about our true identities if she says it on her livestream. And I don't think I can handle that!

T.N.T.: So what!? We're doing this because we wanted to rule this world with music! And you want to run from this?!

MUSHY P.: And our fans will be sad if we go away again. We must play for them!

*Hell Hound and ZZ Skull looked at each before, giving each other a frustrated look. Then they sighed and relented.*

Hell Hound: Fine. But we need to keep our contact with everyone limited. And we cannot talk with others for too long. Once this concert is done, we'll just go back to our normal lives.

T.N.T.: *nervously laughs* About that...

ZZ Skull: What?

*From the outside of the door, the Cookies working backstage were finishing up the last touches when they got spooked by the scream from behind the door.*

Hell Hound: *from the other side of the door* WHAT?!?!?!

#cookie run kingdom #crk headcanons #pastry cookie #parfait cookie #b.a.d. 4 #red velvet cookie #licorice cookie #poison mushroom cookie #choco werehound brute

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unhingedselfships · 11 months

Text

Kimi also has weird coping, and avoids asking her fam, so she goes to other friends

CW : choking

In a distant way, he knew she had friends outside her family.

Friends that also moved in circles of varying levels of questionable.

Some were fine, 'upstanding' citizens.

Some wouldn’t be at all out of place in Purgatory.

He didn’t think much of it, as they’d never interfered with him or his time.

Until now.

…

While he did call, sometimes, or text, maybe, he just as often popped by without warning.

He did have a key after all. Obviously he was always welcome.

Not that she ever locked the door.

Stupid girl.

Across the small courtyard, the beds of hydrangeas someone else was paid to keep up, and up the stairs to her probably-open door.

… Well then. He could be wrong sometimes, he supposed, as the door, was, in fact, locked.

Was she out? His mood soured at the thought.

Oh well, gave him time to be nosy again he supposed.

cause that always worked out so well

Halfway down the hall he paused, having heard a soft gasp.

She wasn’t… busy, again, was she?

So annoyingly inconvenient.

He was going to turn back and find a way to waste a bit of time before something else caught his attention.

“Just a little more, almost there,” a soothing voice.

Male.

And notably, one he didn’t know.

Curiosity set him moving back towards her room, quietly pushing the unlatched door open, and he noticed a few things rather all at once.

It was, indeed, a man he didn’t recognize.

Slender, but well built. Pretty face. Sleepy eyes, in a striking color.

They were both fully clothed, not exactly what he’d expected.

He was straddling her hips, keeping her trembling form pinned down.

Small, dainty, hands were wrapped around his wrists, grip slowly loosening.

Wrists attached to much larger hands, wrapped around her pale, delicate, throat.

The indentations left by pressure, by thumbs.

Pink lips parted, a sigh.

Her eyes rolled back.

Well then.

He leaned against the door frame casually, "You kids having fun? Need me to get you anything? Water? Whips maybe?"

The man sat up, flicking the loose strands of his mostly tied back hair absently over his shoulder, blinking at him.

"Hmm, no, thank you. We're done here.”

Kadokura hummed, faux disinterest, “Done with what, exactly? Just what are you kids into these days?”

“She just has me come by on occasion too, how does she put it? Make the brain go floaty? She should be back up in a few. … Probably. I haven't fucked it up yet anyway," he gave a careless shrug, "I wouldn't normally do this, even as a favor for a friend, but. She can be damn convincing, when she wants.”

Well, that was true enough.

Rolling slim shoulders the man climbed off the now prone girl, and made his way across the room.

"Let her know I took off, would you? It was good meeting you, Kadokura-san."

Kenshi blinked as the man walked past him, and absently noted the man was shorter than him, "You know who I am?"

"I make it my business to know all the most dangerous and powerful people in Japan," he replied, still walking away, "She hasn't said anything about you, if that's what you were concerned about. Well, she's said a lot about you, just not that you're you. No names or identifying information, just-" he laughed, "the most adorable gushing. Little Kimi-chan is absolutely besotted. Interesting to know you’re who she was talking about."

Kenshi fought to keep his face from flushing. He knew, but it was different for someone else to toss it out like that.

"Anyway, gotta bounce, I'm supposed to be at an appointment in,” he glanced at the clock on the wall as he passed, “an hour ago. Seeya.”

And he was out the door, without waiting for a reply.

Kadokura couldn't decide if he felt like he'd gotten more questions or answers.

Oh well. Nothing to do now but wait for her to come to.

And see if maybe anyone knew who the hell that was.

She came slinking out of the room maybe twenty minutes later.

"Um, my… friend. Texted me that you were here."

Friend, huh? Is that what she was calling it.

"Sorry um. About. Yeah."

He blinked at her, "Why?"

She flushed, "It's um, just-"

He snorted, "I don't care why you do it, I wanted to know why you were apologizing. It doesn't matter to me what you do in your free time."

She sighed, relieved, "Thanks. Um-" she cut herself off, seemed a bit nervous.

He raised a brow, and gestured for her to continue.

"Can you not, um, mention this? To anyone else? They um. They don't know."

Both brows went up this time, an amused smile curling across his lips.

"My my, here I thought you told your beloved Daigo-chan everything?"

Something pained and sorrowful shot over her,

"I-" she bit down on the word, "It's just- Sometimes I just need the world to go away for a bit, yanno?"

He nodded, "Turn it off and back on."

She breathed a laugh, settling on the couch next to him, worming her way under his arm and tucking herself against his side.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

His fingers instinctively made their way to her hair, softly caressing her scalp, soothing.

She nuzzled against his collar bone, breathing out a sigh.

"I just- I don't think they'd like it much."

"No, probably not," he answered.

She was quiet for a moment, "Should I tell them?"

"That's up to you isn't it? They're probably going to find out at some point, regardless."

She flinched, a soft "yeah".

They say in silence a little longer.

"Hey Kenshi?"

He hummed in askance.

"Thanks. For. Iunno. Bein' you."

Huffing he ignored the warmth in his face, "Stupid."

#yakkimi #kadokura-verse #kadokura kenshi #drabble #one shot

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chibinightmares · 2 years

Text

❰Part 1 | ESCAPE❱ Strawberries and Bunnies

so I was shown an interesting BL and it had this little explanation for Omegaverse things and omg it's helpful but it doesn't include things like "fated mates" and what not while the concept still confuses me cause I keep imagining everyone has like cute fluffy ears and what not-- sob

The clock barely let out a chime as you stepped out of the shower, drying your hair with a plastic container bitten down in your mouth to prevent it from being dropped or simply just going missing due to the house gremlins that seemingly invade everytime you need something important. Damn gremlins.

Hanging the towel up alongside the rest of the few that you own, your attention was drawn to your phone as the alarm went off a second time. Alerting you that it was only quarter after five, meaning you had plenty of time to put on some proper clothing and prep your mask that was required for work.. though one thing needed to be done first.

Grabbing a sweet flavored drink from the mini cooler that was directly outside your bathroom door, you had it stored there alongside the box that held important documents and medications that you chose to take.. why? The answer was simple as it was brought back into your mind as you buttoned up the white shirt you were required to wear as per attire for the work that you did. You worked as a hostess at a rather well-known night club named "ESCAPE", a popular joint for both men and women to spend their evenings with hosts of all kinds to forget about the boring, dramatic or even downright stressful days that they had endured.

You opened up the drink and popped the pill out of it's almost adult-proof container, honestly it felt as though it was foolproof if not for the little pull down edge on the top, and downed a gulp of liquid before forcing the bitter tasting capsule down your throat. Truth be told, as you stared at your reflection, you were an Omega working at a club that only allowed for Betas and Alphas. Normally, if anyone had come to find out this little secret of yours then you'd have quite some hell to pay.. but surely that day will never happen. Especially since you were a popular host.

It was an unfortunate reality you were forced to deal with, since the medication itself couldn't be taken more than once per week or else you'd start losing yourself to dizziness, fatigue and even moments of blurry conscientious.. not to say those didn't already happen but it'd make it worse. You were already known as a semi-airhead due to having to take the medication but thankfully that helped with your charm. The customers and patrons who came in seemed to adore you for your "cute" appearance and easily sociable personality.

Letting out a small smile as you finished up with your appearance with twenty-five minutes to spare until you needed to get going, you started to put your belongings together while spritzing a familiar and calming perfume on one wrist to apply to the other while taking a second to spare to gush about your own appearance. Generally speaking, it made you happy-- hell, even prideful, to see the outfit that you adorned. The semi-tucked in white button-up shirt with purple ribbons tied neatly in your collar accented nicely alongside your black bottoms, having been given the choice between a skirt that barely reached mid-thigh and some very comfortable dress pants. This was all you could see within the mirror as you fixed up the cuffs of your sleeve before grabbing the bag you needed for work which contained your essentials-- oh! You mentally scold yourself as you grab your phone which you had left sitting out, turning it on briefly to see the hour as it the screen came to life.

It was finally time to leave.

#omegaverse #x reader #female reader #gender neutral clothing #omega reader #ESCAPE omegaverse

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fatummortem · 2 years

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@annjiru asked: 🎮🎁💯 Munday Asks Accepting OOC

🎮 — favorite video game(s)?

Oh boy, that’s a long list.... Ironically I love platforming games, but I suck at them. If it’s a requirement to win, I can’t finish them no matter how hard I try. I normally have a rule if I have to ask my roommate to help me more than 5 times it’s best to just give him the game. Normally go for RPGs or JRPGs, try to watch my roomie play his zombie games but it doesn’t last for long. I got mad at play to wins & avoid MMOs. RIP. Here’s some of the games I replay.

Final Fantasy VII Remake, Final Fantasy XV, Kingdom Hearts (all but it’s sad i can’t play as Roxas on my PS4 in that one game >.< he’s my fav), Hades, Assassin’s Creed Black Flag, Dragon Age (all), Devil May Cry (mainly DMC DMC & Devil May Cry 5 bcuz I love the controls along with story), Dragon Quest XI S, Splatoon 2 (mostly love it with kiddo, she gets cranky with my kill count tho especially when she started trying to kill me), Borderlands (all, literally play them on 3 platforms), Baldur’s Gate III (Early Access), Mass Effect (all), Ys VIII, Persona 5 R, Kingdoms of Amalur, Ys IX, Zelda (haven’t played them all, will if they come out on switch tho), Bendy & the Ink Machine (i donno if this counts, the kiddo is into horror so she gives me this look & I end up playing it.), Fallout (varies)

🎁 — what have you accomplished in the rpc that you’re proud of?

A lot of my followers used to hate Daken as a character, we’d end up into long debates about him which is fun for me considering some of them are friends in the RPC. They now love him xD

on another platform I did some fun crackish things, like ages back I used to write Alice, she’s the twin of Batwomen & would string spoken lines together from all Alice in Wonderland books into dialogue, that was a fun challenge. Played Harley Quinn ages ago, made her pop-gun shoot knock off hero & villain panties. It was the best crack especially when I aimed it at Wally West when he was annoying. He’d end up fleeing & would forget to use the door. All of which was when I was in my twenties & drunk off Jack. Haven’t written influenced by Jack in ages. Amazed I wrote it well tho.

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

Oh, i suck at these... Here we go~

- I can have pretty dark humour if I get comfortable with someone. For instance, the name I chose for myself is fashioned after the antichrist so I could joke I was spawned from hell. My friends turned the tables by nicknaming me after bright sunny things in a war of humour. In response to this, my kiddo puts on horns whenever she can around my main ptsd trigger, they still haven’t caught on.

- You’ll see the random U in my words because my best friend is from the UK & made it his life ambition to accomplish this. I tell him to put the kettle on the stove in revenge whenever I have the chance. He’s now trying to get me to use the letter S instead of Z, it’s not working well for him. So if my words drastically change, he’s why.

- I hardly ever get angry, normally over something within a minute or so. Don’t see a point to it for me personally.

#Glow Speaks #mun speaks #ooc #mun meme #o/#annjiru

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

Text

Sherlock Holmes - Kiss Me, Mr Detective

A/N - Season 1!Sherlock, the cutie. And friends to lovers. Two of my favourite things. I do not own Sherlock Holmes, the character, the universe, the adaptations or anything: this is a work of fiction set on the BBC adaptation of Sherlock. Did I still write 8.2k words (exactly) for it? Yes. I also don’t own the song or the lyrics used within, and if you fancy it, listen to ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran while reading.

Warnings - Bad language. Mentions of murder and drug usage. Mild angst. Smut, loss of virginity, masturbation, oral m receiving, penetration, unprotected sex, so 18+.

Summary - After a fight with John leaves Sherlock feeling particularly down, he calls on the one person who is always there to support him. Only tonight, it’s different. Feelings come to a head, exploration ensues, but is this just a one time thing? That depends on whether she stays the night...

TO SHERLOCK, it’s just another normal day, whereas to John? He’d rather not admit how regularly these awful days roll around. Sure, the case didn’t go as well as it could’ve, and Sherlock admittedly could’ve made much more of an effort to comfort John after the apparent ‘heartbreak’ he endured. He just could not understand it. Why the hell was John so emotionally responsive to a case they’d been on for less than twenty four hours which turned out to be a bust anyway?

“You are absolutely unbelievable!”

“People die every day, John. You’ve killed people, as have I. It isn’t that great a surprise.” Sherlock deadpans, picking up his teacup, raising it to his lips, drawing a long sip from the warm liquid.

“Oh, yeah, of course. The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.” John mocks. “Do you not even care that people are still dead despite the fact you solved the case?”

“They’d be dead either way,” he reiterates, “at least we got to them before they completely decomposed. Will me caring about them stop them from being dead? No, Dr Watson, it will not.”

“Sherlock!”

“John!” He mimics.

John slams his hands down on the desk, shaking the wood and everything resting on it, surely sending the vibrations through the floor and notifying Mrs Hudson of their ‘domestic’ as she so likes to call them. The buffalo even begins to swing. John’s tea is long forgotten, but Sherlock’s is keeping him grounded, calm, as John waggles his fist in Sherlock’s passive, blank face.

“You-” he pauses, gulping down breath. “You are a fucking machine, I can’t even deal with you right now. How dare you be so cold hearted and untroubled by this. You’re a disgrace.”

As if he hasn’t heard that one before, Sherlock scoffs.

Placing his teacup back down with a clink, he stands, the darkness of the night, of the room, closing in on them both. Nights like these really are danger nights, any night John leaves him. That’s what's coming next, but there isn’t a thing he knows to say or do to prevent the inevitable. He’ll simply just text Her instead, she’ll keep him grounded.

“Why? Emotional context? Emotion, whether of ridicule, anger, or sorrow, whether raised at a puppet show, a funeral, or a battle, is your grandest of levellers. The man who would be always superior should be always apathetic.”

With a huff like a bull, John viciously turns on his heel, blaspheming under his breath, cursing Sherlock out. He reaches for his coat and snatches it off the stand, slamming the door open.

“MACHINE.” John screams before pulling the door shut with a great slam, seething, the coat stand still rocking in his wake.

John’s footsteps thunder down the stairs, but before he’s even gone, Sherlock’s phone is withdrawn, and he’s tapping out a message.

Can you come over? Please? SH

It wouldn’t usually bother him as much. The case didn’t phase him, at all, but John’s opinion did. It always does. But today was a particularly long day of being brutish and rude, cold and distant, his usual and true self, but John’s more and more impatient with him now.

Being called a ‘machine’ is, again, nothing unusual, but this time it stings a little more than usual, especially after his recent arrest, and a fallout with Molly. He only has one person left, right now, who doesn’t hate him. His longest friend, the one he keeps away from it all so as to not tarnish her life with his misdeeds; Y/N, the one he can always rely on.

He knows she’s arrived by the sound of his window crashing open. Crawling up the bricks, skimming the drainpipe, latching onto the ivy; it’s her usual manner of entry. She never uses the door.

Putting his cups and saucers into the sink, he makes his way through the house, opening his bedroom door to find her already sitting there on the bed, her coat hung up on the hook, her work clothes clinging to her body.

“Hey there Mr Detective, you okay?” she asks as jovially as she can muster.

The way he ambles across the room, his dressing gown floating behind him, and slumps down onto the bed, instantly tells her he’s not okay at all. She can’t help but to look upon him sympathetically, edging a smidge closer to him, until he’s prompted enough to wrap his arms around her torso, finding his rightful place tangled around her. She knows him well enough - his past, and his current life - to realise she’s the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough around to do this with, and that brings her a certain swelling pride in her bosom, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock as he feels her skin heat up against his cheek.

It doesn’t take long, either, for his head to follow suit, burying into her chest. He’s always, always had a thing for her boobs, ever since they were in uni together.

That’s something so special about the two of them, he doesn’t have to say anything for her to know he’s not okay the way he does with everyone else. And naturally, he can read everything about her in a split second.

“I’m here, bud.”

Above all else, he just needs to know someone is there for him in moments like these. The world is cruel to him, and Y/N wishes more than anything that it wasn’t. Upon instinct, her hands stray, one to his back, pressing against the silk of his dressing gown, the other cradling his long neck, fingers knotting in the dark curls there.

She isn’t sure how long she stays there, simply holding him, feeling every twitch of his muscles, every breath of his against her skin, but she likes it. Of course she does, every time she likes it. Sherlock brings her an inordinate amount of comfort at the best of times, today is no exception, especially with what the day has held. Even when she’s the one comforting him, he doesn’t realise how much he helps her too.

His flat is so familiar, his bed as comfortable as her own. She knows his sock index, she’s studied his periodic table over his shoulder more times than she’d care to admit, and she even has her own toothbrush in the bathroom in case she has to pop over for an emergency freshen up. Sherlock has, and always will be, her first port of call, and that she remembers as she shifts further onto the quilted bedspread, her phone on his oak bedside locker.

His head begins to stir against her chest, his curls tickling her collarbones, small hums escaping his lips as he pushes himself up, his elegant yet trembling hands still splayed on her waist.

“I could feel your heart beating weirdly, what’s wrong?” he asks, quirking his eyebrows.

“Just the usual.” she vaguely replies.

Sherlock isn’t having it, though, and scans her a little more. “You’re still in your work clothes.”

“Great deduction. I was hoping you’d go a little deeper, though.”

“You hate wearing work clothes longer than necessary, which means you had plans straight after work, considering you finished… five hours ago? That’s your usual time for today. Counting overtime, forty five minutes, walk to your car, another ten, but your umbrella wasn’t working, round that up to an hour, leaving at 6. You arrived home, no, not home, at your boyfriend’s house for dinner. However, you’re not comfortable enough with one another yet for you to use his shower, or perhaps you are, but you elected not to, and stay in damp clothes that only had seventeen minutes to dry with the heater on in your car for the journey there. You ate dinner, Mexican, had a glass and a half of five percent wine, realised you couldn’t drive, but you didn’t particularly want to stay. Nonetheless you sat and watched the telly with him for hours, football, I can see the dreariness in your eyes. I know how much you hate it, and frankly, same. You stayed for almost all of the match, seeing as you’re now sober, but something else happened.” She lulls her head to the side, prompting him, her smile not meeting her eyes. “As soon as the match ended, he tried to make a move on you, he pressed his mouth to yours, he tried to push his hand up your skirt;” his throat bobs with a vicious gulp; despising the thought of anyone else laying a finger on her, “you swatted him away, rightfully so.”

He pauses a minute, his harsh tone of voice and his sharp face softening. He can see the vulnerability in her eyes, her walls about to crumble. This woman he appreciates so much. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

Smiling melancholically up at him, she brings her hand back to his hair, her fingers carding through the soft curls. His face buries back into her chest just as her voice offers a broken whisper, “I broke it off. I was the one who couldn’t commit this time.”

And as she lays her head on top of his, her breathing more shallow, resounding in her chest, he dwells over those very words. The way she said them, not to mention the words themselves, hold a myriad of meaning. What could she possibly-

Oh.

The subtext, yes, impeccable. She’s always had a way with implications and subtext, always knowing that the likelihood of him actually picking up on it is little to none. But now, now he’s become trained to her, her way of life, her way of thinking, her way of speaking. This is too good an opportunity to miss. If she means what he thinks she means, ever hopeful, then this is completely unfamiliar territory.

Gathering all of his courage in one deep breath, he begins to pepper kisses on her skin. The faintest brush of his lips on the tops of her breasts, all that’s available to him with her shirt the way it is. He feels her heart flutter, her breathing stutter, but despite the chemical flush of her chest, he still isn’t quite sure she likes it. Not until he feels her grip on his hair increase, and he glances up to see her head thrown back. Her spine delicately arches against his hand, thrusting her chest further into his face.

His nimble fingers reach for her buttons, undoing the top two, giving him space enough to find the valley between her breasts. Lathering kisses there, licking the swells of her boobs, his tongue pulsates with the increased thrumming of her heart. The sensation is new, so unbridled, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with the stirring in his loins right about now. That unknowing is only further amplified by the sound that rips from her chest when he involuntarily bites down on the supple flesh. It couldn’t be… a moan?

Sure, he understands the chemistry of it, the reactions that occur in the synapses of the brain, the pheromones and hormones released when one is aroused, but this is all new to him. And, from his embarrassingly basic level of theory, surely that doesn’t start until some more stimulation on other parts of the body commence? Nipples, perhaps something lower down… then again, what does Sherlock know?

Of course it’s an intimate moment, the closest he’s been to a woman before, and maybe that’s why he freezes, stops, and she tugs his head up by his hair, her gentle, pleasured smile with her lips softly parted deepening the look of bewilderment painted onto his face. Her eyes are twinkling, alight with an excitement he hasn’t seen for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

He shrugs his shoulders with a sudden force, his dressing gown falling off a little. “I don’t know. But now I feel like I read your pining words all wrong.”

She gasps, a wheezing sound, sucking the air from the room. She smacks his arm gently, muffled by his button-down and dressing gown. “I wasn’t pining! I was saying.”

“Hmm, same difference.”

Everyone must acquiesce when it comes to Sherlock Holmes. “But no, you didn’t read them wrong at all, but I know you don’t see me that way, you don’t feel things that way.”

He pauses, his beautiful plump lips pursed, fidgeting on the bed. Brushing her hair off her face reveals the pain she expressed. However, her eyes glued on his, sadness is betrayed in every line of his young, clean-shaven face. His entire bone structure is taking a nosedive.

“For you, I’ve been feeling everything from hate to love to lust, and I guess that’s how I know I want to hold you close.”

“Sherlock...” she whispers, her singular word an inflection of surprise.

Never tearing his eyes from her, his hand comes up to her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the slightly blushing skin, searching her face, with his big blue eyes, for a shred of reluctance. But, all he sees is her, so he elects to do what his heart is yelling at him to do for once, and kisses her breathless. His full lips holding hers, his one hand on her face, the other still wrapped around her back. Hers fly around his neck, clinging to him for dear life.

It doesn’t take long, their movements steadily heating, for their previously slow, intimate kiss to grow into something more, Y/N pulling herself up from the bed and making herself comfortable on Sherlock’s lap. His breath hitches in his throat, a cute little hiccupping sound escaping his lips in between embraces.

As much as he loves just this, soft caressing and gentle petting, he just knows she wants more. He does too, that much is evident from the length prodding at Y/N’s inner thigh as she moves gently on his lap. She won’t make a move, though, he’s too inexperienced, and she’s too much of a sweetheart to corrupt him, so she thinks. Ever since he first saw her, she’s been corrupting him slowly. He didn’t realise at first, but over the years, he began to understand, and now he’s in too deep.

For Y/N? It’s always been him. Every breakup she’s had, she’ll come to Sherlock’s flat, full well knowing the real reason she broke up with them, because she couldn’t commit, because she was too caught up on him.

Skimming his hands beneath her shirt, he savours the press of his hands on her bare skin, warmth seeping from her body into his, his fingers dancing along her spine. Electricity shocks her in bursts, unlike anything else, from his touch alone.

“May I take your shirt off?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes.” she groans. “May I do yours?”

“Be my guest.”

In a tangle of limbs, a few buttons pop off, and eventually, two shirts make it out the other side, tossed from the bed and into the laundry pile. Aka Sherlock’s floor. He’s like that: sock indexes, yet he won’t get a hamper. A walking contrast.

His thumbs press beneath the band of her bra, savouring the pressure of the flesh that falls into his hands, but that’s as far as he gets.

“Never undone a bra before?”

He shakes his head sheepishly. “I know the theory. Just… you always wear peculiar ones.”

“I wear relatively normal bras, and this one is certainly bog standard. Had I known you’d be undressing me Mr Detective, I’d have worn something nicer.”

“Just do it for me.” He requests, chuckling.

She unfastens her bra, and allows her breasts to spill from the cups, into Sherlock’s awaiting hands. The gasp that erupts from him sends Y/N’s brain into overdrive. He’s cupped her chest through her shirt before, buried his nose into her cleavage countless times, but never before have they had such skin on skin contact. Her lips press to his neck, shifting her closer to him. Sucking on his pressure point, she receives a similar gasp in response, only this one is more guttural, more a sound of pleasure than surprise. He’s wilting from a single kiss to his neck.

“Has no one ever given you a hickey?” She husks in his ear, her voice alone sending tremors down his spine.

“N- fuck, no.”

“I’ll make it worth it. All of this.”

“I know you will.”

She fuses her lips onto his again, savouring the faint hesitations as he grapples with his breath, eager to get some control on his mind with all that’s happening. Never did she ever think Sherlock would be here beneath her, his rough fingertips brushing over her peaked buds, and his palms dancing over her waist. Never did she think she’d hear him whisper his next words, either, not in a million years.

“More.” he pleads. “Can we do… more? Whatever that entails?”

“That depends what you want to do.”

“Get me out of these damn trousers. They're rather uncomfortable.”

She snorts lightly, a piggy like sound, the one they bonded over all those years ago. “I can feel why.”

“I imagine you want out of your work trousers, too.”

“God, yes; they’re ghastly.”

“I don’t think so.” he hums. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks begin to burn, blood rushing to colour them, betraying her true feelings, but as he tweaks her nose playfully, the little snort escapes again.

They were in the dining hall, second week of university, almost ten years ago, and Y/N was sitting with her friends, downing enough coffee to sink a ship, eating her hangover away, when her friends decided to make her laugh with tales of last night's drunken events. Unbeknownst to her, one of the greatest minds of the twenty-first century was sitting just a few seats down on the half-empty bench, watching her perceptively in his periphery. That’s when he first heard the sound. The cutest thing, and it startled him into action, beginning his deductions almost instantly. Admittedly, her student ID on the table aided him a little.

He shocked her from her haze, too, as soon as he spoke her name.

“Y/N, eighteen, jurisprudence first year, freshers week over with. You left a boyfriend back home, but you’re more sad about leaving your dog, as I would be. You don’t particularly care about law but know it’s a good undergraduate to receive anyway. Dyed hair, extrovert, killer hangover, and apparently there’s a little piggy living inside your nose. Sherlock Holmes, would you like some aspirin?”

“That’s weird; what are you, some kind of detective?” She asked, sans malice, a playful bounce to her words.

“Chemistry, going for a masters. But I do like the mystery, yes.”

“So you’re… bright. Nice to meet you, Sherlock, and it seems you know almost everything you need to know about me. But yes, I will take that aspirin, if you don’t mind. How was your weekend?”

He smiled at her, the first true smile he’d given in a long time. “It was nice, thank you.”

And thus a friendship was born, all because he heard her little piggy snort.

Her slender fingers work wonders with the fastener and zip of his suit trousers, and even manage hers too, all within the space of a few seconds, but Sherlock is reluctant to let her go, even just to get her trousers off.

“I need to sit up, just for a minute.”

“No.” Sherlock commands, insistent. “We can make this work.”

“Sure we can, but it won’t be very comfortable. Come on.”

She’s barely peeled away from him and wrestled hers off before he’s drawing her back in for a kiss, his trousers settled just above his knees.

“Sherlock,” she protests, mumbling against his lips, her hands on his heavenly, broad, muscular shoulders. “Sher!”

Her squeal at his sudden tug on her panties disappears, captured by his eager mouth. And in fact, her panties seem to disappear along with it, thanks to Sherlock’s swift movements and nimble hands. Maybe he’s had some experience to be so good at this…

“You sure you wanna go this far?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been. I need you.”

He takes a deep inhale, dropping his forehead against hers, his breathing coming out in bursts as he tries to get a grasp on the situation. “Kiss me.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly getting to work on the waistband of his boxers as his tongue lavishes her own. His hips rise briefly, just long enough for her to tug the elasticated material from around him, slipping past her, and then he kicks it into their growing pile of clothes. His length falls into her awaiting palm, and-

“Wow.” She exhales in amazement. “If I’d known you were packing this much, I’d have jumped you long ago.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Absolutely not, until tonight I thought you’d just laugh at me.”

He pecks her lips affectionately, “Never. You’re bloody beautiful, I’ll let you do anything to me.”

“Hmm, anything, you say?”

Stifling a chuckle against her neck, he recommences, “Maybe not anything.”

Yeah, that's definitely the right call. Still, she finds herself all but clawing at him, her breath hovering teasingly just over his lips, their noses touching, her hands clamped to his cheeks, feeling the building heat there. She must be making such a mess of his bed right about now, but for one night? It can’t matter.

This is a one time thing, it has to be. Sherlock just needs to release some tension, she just so happens to be there. Still, she can’t prevent the little glimmer of hope shining through at the possibility of this being a more-than-one-time thing. The moral compunctions of their friendship after this don’t matter anymore, because he’s leaving a fire in his wake, his delicious fingertips digging bruisingly into her bum before trailing lightly up her spine, skimming her shoulder, brushing her neck - arched for him to reach where he wants, able to mark her as his own - and finally slipping over her lips, taken obediently by her awaiting mouth. Christ, if there’s one thing she hopes for tonight, it’s that his actions never relent.

Whether it’s what he intends to happen or not, his fingers in her mouth give her an idea, one she prays he goes along with at least a little, so she pulls away. The dirty, telling smile on her face hints at what she’s about to do, lending Sherlock to shift a little more up the bed, his eyes following her every move. Hands splayed on his thighs, her small fingers gripping onto the fine hairs there, she begins to take his tip into her mouth, never once breaking eye contact with him. Yeah, this is what’ll drive him insane.

Inch by inch, she takes him into the welcoming heat of her mouth, pulling off slowly, only to go down again. She adds her tongue into the mix at some point, too, and her hand, on what she can’t reach, tickling his balls, but further than that, his mind is blank. Hot white, washed with pleasure. The sounds he emits are other worldly, so much that he has to muffle himself with his own hand; what would Mrs Hudson say? He’s always had such control over his mind and body, but this… he’s slowly losing all semblance of control, and he’s not even mad about it. What he does know is that there’s a building heat in his abdomen, a coil about to spring, and his cock is beginning to twitch. If she keeps going this incredible way, her teeth grazing him ever so gently, adding another new sensation into the mix, he’s inexorably going to finish before he can help it.

“As much as I adore your torturous ministrations, I think I need to be inside you…” He husks, his voice deep.

A smirk gracing her lips, she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, mischief glinting in her pretty little mesmerising eyes for a second, before she hollows her cheeks and takes him wholly, allowing his length to slip partially down her throat. Her moan reverberates around him, and Sherlock begins to thrash above her, scrunching the duvet in his hands, not caring if it creases. If there’s one thing Sherlock hates, it’s creases. And being called a machine by his best friend. Right now, though, it seems as though every misstep in his day has led him here, into the welcoming heat of Y/N’s mouth, taking him so eagerly, her tongue lapping at the vein on the underside of his dick, a string of saliva remaining as she pulls away.

“I think you’ve got a couple of rounds in you, Mr Detective. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes.” He stammers, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy a moment later as she begins to work on the head with kitten licks. “But… can I s- fuck me, say something?”

“I plan on it.” she chuckles, “anything.”

She goes back to peppering kisses all over his member, tip to base, brushing his balls, working her way back up.

“Touch yourself f- for me.”

“What? Why?”

Her tone is more inquisitive than anything else, but upon that playfully rueful look in his lust-darkened baby blue eyes, she knows he’s going to get her back for this little display, and he’s just worked out how. It works both ways, she can prepare herself for what’s to come next while pleasuring him. And he gets to watch. It’s a win-win for him. Maybe he likes this sex thing a little more than he’s letting on.

“Are you sure you want me to? I’ll just make a mess on your sheets, Sher.”

She swallows him again, bobbing her head up and down on his length a few times while he grapples with literal reality. He’s teetering on the edge. One more move, and he’s a goner. His head is already against the wall, lolled there.

“I don’t care about the sheets, darling, I need you ready for me.”

She gulps, nods, and reaches one hand around her, skimming over her stomach, until it nestles between her thighs. She rubs her thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-come beading there, while she rubs over her throbbing pearl, pressing softly. Then, as she inches down on his cock, taking him in her mouth, she also collects the slick from between her thighs, and uses it as a lube to push a finger inside herself. Of all the times she’s touched herself, she never imagined, even in her wild Sherlock fantasies, that she’d be doing it with his dick down her throat. With every bob of her head, she scissors herself more, sinking back onto her fingers.

“I think I’m-” Sherlock begins to say, his words cut off by an utterly obscene moan splitting the air.

She hastily abandons her one post, and wraps both of her hands around his girth, working on what she can’t fit into her mouth with her increased speed, licking and suckling his head as he begins to fall apart, coming, with a scream, down her throat, his one hand clamped over his mouth, biting down harshly to silence his cries; the other buried in her hair.

His whole body falls lax, completely spent, meanwhile, Y/N savours every drop she’s been able to draw from him. He softens in her mouth, allowing her change to slip away from him, grasping a tissue from the bedside to wipe away any excess. That’s certainly something she never thought would happen…

He’s calm, though, smiling lazily through hooded eyes, his breathing regulated once more, making beckoning motions to her with his big hands. He’s placated, though, and sliding her hands into his, she’s allowed time enough to get into place, smiling softly at him, raking her fingers over his scalp in a comforting way. Even as she sits herself on his lap, she can feel him hardening beneath her ass, slowly but surely. She was right about him, he’s definitely got another round in him.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks.

“No, sweetheart, they’re in my other bag. I didn’t plan on getting any for a while… do you?”

“Not in here, that I’m aware of. John may have stashed some in my less favoured dressing gowns or socks, and he definitely has some upstairs, but I’m unawares.”

“I’m gonna sound crazy here, but do we need one?” She says hesitantly. His eyes widen, he cocks his head to the side. “I was tested after my last partner, I’m clean, and on birth control. You’re a virgin. There’s no point, is there?”

“You have a considerably good point.”

With that, energy rejuvenated a little, he wraps an arm around her body, flipping them over so he’s on top, shadowing her, looming over her, gazing down at every inch of her naked beauty.

“Take your time. I’ll be your safety.”

“I know.” he whispers, a tearful smile making its way onto her face. “Thank you.”

He needn’t say more, because she already knows why she’s being thanked. For her kindness, for making him so comfortable, for accepting the fact he’s still a virgin in his late twenties and, if he’s being honest, has no damn clue what the practicality and reality of sex is. Sure, he’s seen porn. He’s also looked at John’s laptop. But that doesn’t prepare one for when the moment comes. It’s like all of that goes out the window, and he simply remembers the first time he opened a biology textbook at secondary school, pictures of flushed organs staring back at him, desperately waiting to be relieved. That’s what his own coock is like right now, already hard again, virtually pulsating with hunger in his palm. He strokes himself a couple of times, glancing down at Y/N’s wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Can I…”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she chuckles, “whenever you’re ready.”

Now, he thinks. He rubs two digits through her folds, gathering her wetness, enamoured with the way it glistens on his fingertips. Tentatively, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around them to get a taste. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he moans. She’s better than any cup of tea he’s ever had.

His cock slaps against his lower stomach pleadingly, so he grasps it in his hand, and begins to enter her, pushing gently, feeling every flutter of her walls. Her arms fly out, hands grasping his shoulders, nails leaving crescent moons in their wake at the delicious stretch. It’s nothing like they’ve ever felt before.

“Can I move?” He asks, balls deep inside her, their pelvises flush against one another.

“Please.” She all but begs.

Before doing anything else, Sherlock hooks one strong arm around her body, malleable in his hands, and holds her chest against his. Her breasts push into his skin, her nipples gaining friction from the dusting of hair there. Her one hand cups his slender neck, the other, his sharp cheek. Their eyes meet in a fierce gaze of burning intensity, and he begins to move. Slow, calculated, sharp thrusts punctuate her core. With every heavenly stroke, he can feel the ridges in her velvet walls, squeezing around him unwittingly.

“Jesus,” she cries, her clutch increasing.

“Hmm, not quite.”

The smirk in his words is quite literally audible. He’s so cocky, so full of himself, and fuck if she can’t feel another gush of arousal coursing through her, drenching his cock. How does he manage to be so attractive when he’s so dishevelled?

“Is that good?” He asks, unsure.

“So good.”

She brings her legs up, skimming the clenched backs of his thighs, until they wrap around him, drawing his hips into her at a new and improved angle. Heels digging into the base of his spine, he begins to move with a new purpose, his thrusts more passionate as his breath is drained from him by her kisses, his eyes alight with a new flame.

“Oh my God, Sherlock.” She pants, pulling him in for a kiss he greedily returns.

He drives his hips deeper, squeezing his fingertips into her supple waist bruisingly. It’ll be a mark that she belonged to him once, even just for one night. That’s when he reaches that special spongy spot that makes her entire body buckle. She all but screams, pressing into him wholly.

The coil is building, ready to break. He seems to be nearing the edge, too, his member twitching inside her when he buries himself particularly deep. She’s oh so fucking close… She licks into his mouth filthily, desperately clashing her teeth with his, eager for his kisses to tide her over. Silence her. Shifting his supporting hand, he trails one dextrous finger around to circle her clit, adding the faintest pressure for a moment. She mewls as he groans into her hot skin, clawing at him, entirely at his whim. Now he knows where to press, he settled his grip back around her, and draws her in close. This time around, he bends his knees a little more to measure his movements more carefully, ensuring that he ruts up and brushes her sensitive bud with his pelvis, helped by the extra friction of his neatly trimmed pubic hair on every thrust within her, his tip just scraping her g-spot.

“I- Sherlock, please tell me you’re- oh sweet mercy- close.”

He grunts softly in her ear. “So close.”

Their lips meet tenderly, passionately, in what they acknowledge to be a final kiss, moans mixing between them, savoured by the other.

His thighs clench, her legs tighten around his waist, and finally, her sweet walls flutter, squeezing him as she reaches her climax, his not following long after, spilling inside her, painting her soft walls white, marking her.

“Y/N,” he cries in ecstasy as his orgasm reaches him. “Sher…” she repeats, her saving grace as pleasure washes over her entirely.

Their whole bodies wind up pressed together, bound together as one, skin on skin completely, becoming one another.

He lets her down gently, unravelling his grip, unsurprised when their sweaty skin sticks together. Her long legs unfurl, splaying in a butterfly. Sherlock tumbles ungracefully away, somehow landing with a certain gangly elegance on the space of mattress beside her, his arm instinctively flying over to place on her stomach, the skin hot and flushed red. Her chest moves hastily up and down with the thrumming of her heart, while his barely shifts despite his shallow breaths, his white skin glistening in the moonlight.

“Are you okay?” He huffs, turning on his side. “You look pretty fucked out.”

His baby blue eyes train instantly on her nipples, hard in the open air. This is the first notifier, the first inkling she has to feel self conscious, so she draws the sheet up around her as best as she can. Sherlock’s not having any of it, taking a stronghold on her arms, and pulling her until she’s lying on him, naught to separate them.

“I’ve never been this close to anyone physically and y'know.” He hums tiredly. She’s never heard him sound tired before…

She smiles up at him as best she can, “Are you glad?”

He begins to hold her ever closer, squeezing her tighter, feeling every ridge of her body.

“I’m so glad that you were my first, in so many ways.”

Praise from Sherlock is a rarity, and she’ll take it as and when she can, savouring every moment, this time by holding him like a koala, her grip not wavering.

“I’m glad too, Mr Detective.”

He brushes a kiss to her cheek, “As much as I like this, we need to get you cleaned up.”

A supporting arm beneath her bum, he picks her up, and unsteadily ambles into the bathroom.

“I don’t know much about this, but I know you should probably use the toilet, should you want to avoid a UTI, so if you’d like me to leave…”

He sets her down on the loo seat, cupping his hands over his nether regions, and he hurries to grasp for things, until she puts her hand on his arm, squeezing in a conciliatory manner.

“You do remember the camping trip, don’t you? You really don’t have to leave just because I have to pee, you never did before. In fact, you frequently annoyed me with it if you had a particular point to make, steadfastly refusing to leave the bathroom after following me in there when I went to pee. Why does this change anything?”

He shrugs, dropping whatever was in his arms, “It just doesn’t feel the same now, though.”

“Ooo, and now Mr Detective feels things.” She jokes, poking at his ribs.

He recoils, chuckling with her, “Only for you.”

As Y/N washes her hand, Sherlock begins to wrangle with a floorboard, clattering about until he eventually pulls out a small lock box, from which he withdraws a packet of brand new marks-and-spencer's ladies briefs.

“Why the fuck do you have these? Anything you wanna tell me?” she asks, eyes wide.

“John’s idea. He has plenty of girls over here who frequently stay the night, simply a precautionary error.” He takes a beat, gargling with some mouthwash, “they’re clean, new, I just don’t like the idea of you in dirty underwear, and I know how reluctant you are to go without them whenever you’re not in your own bed. I stayed with you enough nights in university to know that.”

Those nights were awfully painful. She’d take the floor, he’d take the bed, and every time she’d have to wash the sheets. He’d sweat and vomit, shake and cry, plead for the pain to be over. He wouldn’t go to hospital, he wouldn’t call his brother, he’d just turn up on her doorstep, high as a kite, almost in tears, knowing he’d gone a little too far. And each time, it was a little farther.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

She takes them from him, and begins to shimmy them up her legs, only prevented by Sherlock moving to grab a handful of her arse.

“Hmm, I like this. Fancy another round?” He smirks.

“I’m too tired, babe. Give me a bit.”

He can see the lazy smile on her face, the tiredness in her pretty eyes, so he wets a flannel, and begins to clean her up with gentle movements between tender kisses.

“How do you know how to do all of this?” She asks, inquisitive more than anything.

“Instinct, I suppose. I never read or learned about it, seeing as I never thought it would happen.”

She snaps the waistband before moving her hands to his waist, leaning up onto her toes to reach him, kissing her softly.

“Look at you now.”

After brushing their teeth in an amicable silence, their pinky fingers overlapping on the porcelain of the sink, he aids her back to the bedroom, settling her on the bed. She has things here: deodorant, toothbrush, moisturiser, and yet somehow she doesn’t have underwear, even after all these years. Perhaps that's one too many things to explain…

With superfluous extravagance, he throws her his shirt, offering her a wry wink. She finds a blush clawing its way onto her cheeks, dumbfounded. It smells like him, just like a forest glade if it was rained on by tea and cigarettes. Maybe he’ll let her keep it as a memory.

In such a short amount of time, she’s learnt that he has a very sensitive neck. Very. A single kiss there has him biting back a moan. A low one at that, considering his deep voice also drops almost an octave when he’s aroused. His nipples are almost as sensitive as his neck, and he rather likes it when she tugs on them unwittingly.

His first orgasm comes quickly, but his refractory period is astonishing, and it takes longer to achieve a second high, long enough to make her come more than once, she assumes, though her first orgasm was mind blowing enough for two. Perhaps that’s just because it’s his first time, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

What’s the point in learning all of this if, once he comes around from his post-orgasmic haze, he’ll pretend like it never happened, in typical Sherlock style?

The shirt, though a small gesture, means a lot, and her vision begins to cloud as she looks down at the black cotton.

“You mean you want me to stay?” She croaks.

Sherlock turns to her from his set of drawers, his face full of apparent obviousness, brows furrowed in that cute bewildered way.

“Of course I want you to stay.” He states, like it’s the plainest thing in the world, like it’s stupid for her to even ask. But she’s silent, and when she says nothing in response, he launches into a long winded explanation: don’t show sentiment. “I- I just mean, i-it’s midnight, I’m not having you out in London alone. You stay with me. Only if you want to as well...”

She nods eagerly, “Yes. Yeah, course I want to stay.”

He all but leaps access the room, jumping onto the bed, before planting a proper smooch on her lips, grinning down at her. He slips into his usual side of the bed, and she takes hers, rolling to look at him.

“Don’t get cold.” He warns, tucking the duvet up around her shoulders. She giggles like a child, that small snort sounding again, prompting Sherlock to press his thumb to her nose like a button. “How are you… feeling?”

“I’m fine bub, really. That bloke doesn’t matter to me at all. Bit of a scumbag if I’m honest. You’re the one I’m with, the one I wanna talk about. How are you feeling? Must’ve been a pretty big blow up with John for you to call me and be so... teary.”

He sighs, crestfallen, “He called me a machine.”

Her gasp pierces the air, her hand flying to his hair, stroking in consolation, cooing senseless reassurances to him. She’s done this innumerable times, but now it feels different, like there’s no barrier.

“He’s done it so many times that it needn’t bother me anymore, but the way he looked at me, like I was this abhorrent monster, especially after the day and the disappointing case we had, it got to me. I hate having feelings.”

“You don’t have to hide them with me, though.”

He hums gently, burying into her chest. “I know. That’s why I treasure you so dearly.”

“That means you also have to trust me, and you’re not going to like what I have to say.” His chest heaves, shifting her whole body. That’s his way of giving in. “Please just talk to John. You know that whenever he leaves, he’ll come back, and try to pretend it never happened. He needs to know you’re human and that he upset you, but also that the case upset you as well. No one’s superhuman, and once you let John in on the fact that you’re not a machine, things between you will be so much easier, because you might agree for once.”

“I suppose you’re right.” He grumbles.

He pulls her into his warmth, hooking her leg around his as he snakes his arms around her back, breathing deeply from the crook of her shoulder. She begins to pepper kisses on his salty skin, savouring the taste with every small swipe of her tongue.

“Your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck,” he breaks off with a faint whimper when she sucks a little harder, “I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”

“Of course they do,” she whispers brokenly, hoarsely, “they’ve always known you.” She swallows thickly, “Does that mean it’s a feeling you’ll forget?”

“No, I don’t think I ever can.”

The silent words that pass between them both are so special, too special to be spoken aloud. ‘Think I’m in love now.’

“Kiss me like you wanna be loved.” He begs.

And really, who is Y/N to deny him? They just stay that way a little while, revelling in their lazy kisses, until she begins to fall asleep. It isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in his bed, not by any means, but it’s the first time she’s fallen asleep in his arms. She isn’t mad about it.

“Settle down with me, cover me up, cuddle me in. You were made to keep my body warm.” She smiles into her words, and embeds herself into him, entirely covered by the duvet, spattered in his kisses, safe in his arms. Sherlock feels safe with her legs around him, her fingers in his curls, holding himself against her. Amicable silence is how they drift off, Peaceful.

John re-enters 221B at a respectable hour. He got a fair amount of sleep on Greg’s sofa, having no girlfriend in the picture right now, but not enough to deal with Sherlock just yet. Not before his coffee. He expects to see Sherlock sitting in the exact same spot as when he left, perhaps just with a refill of tea, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed yet wide awake. Instead, he arrives at a seemingly empty, considerably clean flat, with no Sherlock in sight. Perhaps the unsleeping man must actually be asleep, he thinks, so he quietens down, and toes off his shoes before wandering farther into the flat. Even if the man does piss him off extraordinary amounts, perhaps he should just check he’s okay…

He gives the bedroom door a quiet rap, listening in momentarily before pushing it open. Frankly, he’d rather have found Sherlock with a cigarette in hand and the whole flat torn to shreds for the level of surprise he gets upon reaching the bed. His first idea is to scream bloody murder, but that might annoy Mrs Hudson, and upon stepping closer, even in the sliver of daylight through the curtains, he sees the duvet riding down a little. The last thing in the world he ever thought he’d see: Sherlock in naught but boxers pressed against a half naked woman, his palm splayed on her bare thigh. Sherlock? Spooning? It seems so, his entire body pressed to this woman. John feels himself go rigid, his feet glued to the floor, his gaze unmoving from shock.

It takes his phone to buzz in his pocket to get him moving, and when he does, all he tries to do is balance precariously on his tip toes in a wry attempt to get a birds-eye view of the whole thing. He’s not disappointed, or disturbed, once he does, though, his army agility proving useful. Sherlock’s hand is holding her, fingers entwined, just next to her chest. He wonders how comfortable it is, but if they’re staying this way, it can’t be too bad. Maybe all Sherlock needed to loosen up was a good shag.

She’s wearing his shirt, too; Sherlock’s black dress shirt from the previous day. And Sherlock? He never seeps in anything less than a full set of pyjamas, he’s weird like that .

This girl begins to stir, her lips parting gently, small hums escaping. Next, her eyelids flutter, and her hair shifts on the pillow. He didn’t make any noise, did he? John was specifically careful not to, just in case. He doesn’t fancy Sherlock’s wrath just yet.

One eye opens, and she whispers, almost incoherently, “Hi John.”

How she knows his name and who he is, he’s not at all sure, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen this face in his life. The hair is familiar, and maybe, if she were more awake, he’d recognise her smile, but he’s never seen a woman in Sherlock’s company beside Molly Hooper. Speaking of…

Before he can even say anything, though, before he can ask who she is or if she wants tea or if she date-raped his roommate, she’s mumbling, and detaching her hand from Sherlock’s, rolling over. Dumbfounded, John just stands there and watches her cuddle into Sherlock’s chest, her arms wrapping around his torso like second nature. Even in his sleep, not consciously thinking about his actions, he grips her back - one hand resting just above her bum, and buries his nose into her neck.

John can’t help but smile to himself. Maybe their fight was for the best if Sherlock now has a girlfriend, someone he turned to for solace. So, he grasps for the top of the duvet and pulls it up over both of their figures, reaching their shoulders, and leaves, staring wistfully for a brief moment at the seemingly happy couple.

The weight of the duvet of what startles Sherlock, though, stirring him a little, inviting him to him against Y/N’s skin, smiling with eyes barely open. This is really nice, he thinks to himself, not waking up alone.

She smiles back blearily, and in her morning voice, whispers to him, “Kiss me Mr Detective.”

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katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

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breadqueen95 · 3 years

Text

Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #dress #jenna writes #i love lanie #laniestaylorswiftwc

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nocturnalazura · 3 years

Text

Reassured You're Worth It

Todoroki Shoto x Virgin Fem!Reader

Minors do not interact.

Warnings| 18+, Loss of Virginity, multiple orgasms, Oral (fem receiving), fingering, minor over stimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie

All characters are aged up

Summary: You've always been a little unsure and nervous about finally losing your virginity, you're boyfriend always said that it was fine but sometimes you over think. So when you get into your own head he helps reassure you and you finally make a decision that you've thought about a few times before. (I suck at summaries)

Just a quick thank you to the anon that requested a first time with Todoroki! This was super fun to right and ended up being way longer than I meant it to be.

It’s a rare occurrence for you and Shoto to have a full night to yourselves. Normally one of you has something to do, you with piles of homework for school, or Shoto has to go off and save the city. So for the first time in what feels like and probably is months you two find solace in laying back on the couch together. Shoto rests on his back half watching whatever movie the two of you had previously chosen while he traces soft circles on your back while you rest on his chest not even attempting to act interested in the movie playing. You lost interest long ago as the couple on screen breaks up for some stupid reason that won’t matter in the end anyway. You already know that the movie will end with them getting back together and of course there will be the obligatory overly dramatic sex scene. You cringe inwardly at the thought of sitting through something that would set expectations to high.

Realistically you know that sex would never be like it was in the movies, but seeing little glimpses of it being so perfect always kind of got your hopes up that that’s what it would really be like. At twenty years old you know that the world doesn’t work the same way as the movies, and people always bitched about how sex scenes and porn were so over rated but you couldn’t help but wonder if they really were. Maybe your first time would be like the movies and everyone was just full of shit and didn’t want to tell you the truth. Or maybe people didn’t want to tell you because you were still a virgin in college and some people found that weird. Which honestly you still don’t get, who cares if you’re still a virgin, not everyone needs to have sex at a young age to have fun plus you wanted to do it with someone you trusted.

Shoto knew you were a virgin and simply stated that he didn’t mind not having sex he just wanted to be with you, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if he would get tired of waiting. Other boyfriends were usually sick of waiting by now and tried pushing for more a few times before you finally broke it off. Shoto’s never brought it up or made any attempt to push you out of your comfort zone, he’s always been pretty respectful when your make out sessions get a little too hot for your liking. The thought of him being your first had crossed your mind more than once, you trust him, and feel comfortable with him. Would he want to? He’s never brought it up maybe because he’s not interested? Suddenly the fingers on your lower back turn ice cold.

“Shoto! What the hell oh my god stop!” You shriek and giggle as you attempt to wiggle away from the frozen fingers. Sitting up on his lap you look down at him only to see him softly smiling up at you.

“Sorry love, but I’ve been saying your name for about 5 minutes now. I could practically hear you thinking. What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing you think is stupid love now tell me or you won’t be able to stop thinking about it.” He whispers, pushing himself to sit up against the arm of the couch. Biting your lip softly he offers you his hand so you can play with his fingers as you work up the nerve to voice your problem.

“God it’s so stupid, but I just, are you tired of waiting?”

“Tired of waiting?”

“For me.” You whisper softly. When he raises a quizzical eyebrow at you, you swallow awkwardly and continue. “For uhm for sex.”

“Am I tired of waiting for sex?” He parrots back to you. When you nod he frowns slightly and pulls his hand away from yours and pushes himself to sit up fully. “Why do you think I’d be tired? I told you I don’t mind waiting, have I been pushing you? I didn’t mean to. We go at your pace. I'm sorry if I gave off anything but that.”

“Oh, oh Sho no that’s not what I meant at all. You’ve never pushed me to far, I just, god see I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not. I want you to feel comfortable at all times. I told you, I really don’t mind waiting, I just want to be with you, so what brought this up?” He questions tilting his head and opening his arms for you to collapse into him.

“I don’t know, I see these stupid scenes and I over think, and just I don’t want you to be unhappy. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”

“Of course not my love. I want you to be comfortable. If you want to take that step with me one day then I’ll happily take the chance but if you don’t want to that’s fine as well. It’s about you, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Nodding you snuggle into his chest and let him resume rubbing soft circles into your skin with one hand while he mindlessly let you play with the finger on his other hand. Resting his head on top of yours as he goes back to half watching the movie. His reassurance in you and your decisions fills you with a sense of comfort and undying trust that you didn’t know you needed. Your body automatically relaxes into him as he turns slightly to press a soft kiss to your forehead before smiling softly against you.

The two of you continue to enjoy the rest of the night, switching to another movie later on. Filled with soft kisses and plenty of cuddles. When the movie ends Shoto turns so you’re tucked into his side and listens as you tell him how school has been going for you lately. He tells you about some of the less graphic and violent missions and villains he’s taken part in over the past couple weeks. The soft discussion of you finally moving into his apartment with him when your lease ends in a few months makes you both smile. As it gets later the two of you finally pop your comfortable bubble of happiness and finally head to bed. Getting washed up quickly you get into bed together.

“Good night.” Shoto softly whispers into your hair.

“Night Sho, love you.”

“Love you too.”

With that he pulls you just a little closer so his chest is completely pressed to your back. You let the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back mixed with the soft little puffs of air that escape him relax you. You smile as his breathing evens out as he falls asleep. Your earlier conversation plays over and over in your mind, his instant concern for you and what you want fills your heart with nothing but love. Swallowing down the fear you have you slowly wiggle around in his arms to turn around and face him. His face is perfectly peaceful as he sleeps, you know you’d be making the right choice with him being your first.

However the last few times you’ve thought of finally taking that leap your own nerves got in the way. He’s proven to you over and over again that you can trust him with everything and his words from earlier prove to you once again that you can trust him. Taking a deep breath you finally make your decision. He’ll be staying the night with you again tomorrow and you’ll tell him you want him to be your first. Your body fills with nothing but excitement and nerves at the thought but you do your best to tame the thoughts and sleep.

Unfortunately sleep doesn’t take you right away and by the time you wake up Shoto is long gone. A small note on your bedside table lets you know that he should be home early as he only has some paperwork and meetings to attend to today. Smiling at the thought of him coming home before dark for once. Pulling yourself out of bed you get ready for the day before heading out to the living room to clean up the little mess the two you left behind the previous night.

Turning on some music you lose yourself to your cleaning as you dance around picking up and wiping everything clean. Before you know it the entire living room, kitchen and bathroom are spotless. Moving on to the bedroom you work on changing the bedding and throwing the other set in a basket to be put away later. Looking around you eye the chair settled in the corner of your room piled high with clean clothes. Sighing you decide to finally tackle the dreaded mountain. After what feels like years of putting away laundry you unceremoniously drop onto the bed to rest and scroll through your phone.

A shrill ding rings out as a message from Shoto pops up letting you know he’s done for the day and has picked up food on his way. Smiling, you hop up and head over to the dresser and pull out one of the shirts you’ve stolen from Shoto and a pair of shorts. Changing quickly you head out to the living room just as Shoto unlocks the door with a bag of take out in hand.

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be here that quick.” You say happily surprised.

“Didn’t want to leave you waiting long so I waited to text you.” He says, smiling softly as you pad over to him taking the bag. Grabbing you before you have a chance to get away he gives you a soft kiss before heading to your room to change into comfortable clothing. “You did a lot while I was gone.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. I kinda just got into it and kept going.”

“I would have helped you when I got back.” He says settling on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“I know but this gave me something to do while you were gone.” You mumble as you hand him his food.

He rolls his eyes at you with a small smile before grabbing the remote to pick something to watch. He settles on something neither one of you really cares about as you both dig into your food. You only half watch whatever plays as you pick at one another’s food and discuss what happened at his meetings. When the food is finished you two slowly begin to pay more attention to the show. You sit there on the floor together for quite awhile before finally deciding to head to bed. Before you can grab anything to put it away Shoto is pushing you onto the couch and doing it himself ignoring your protests.

“You cleaned all day. I can put away leftovers and take out the trash.” He says pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to take the trash out.

Sighing you settle on the couch and wait for him to come back. Taking a deep breath you decide that once he comes back you’ll finally tell him you’re ready. A small amount of nerves build up again at the thought of finally going that far. Shaking your head you get up and head to the bedroom and wait for him there. Jumping onto the bed you toss your phone onto the side table and settle face down on the bed. The sound of the front door opening and closing again alerts you to Shotos return but doesn’t prepare you for his weight to suddenly drop onto your body.

“Aghkh Sho!” You wheeze out as he lets himself rest on you. “Get off me you ass! You’re heavy!”

“Well now that’s rather rude of you to say. I don’t feel like moving for someone who insults me.”

“You’re literally all muscle! You’re gonna kill me!!” You squeal as he lets more of his weight drop. Laughing slightly he wraps an arm under you and flips the two of you over. Wiggling out from under his arm you sit up to flip yourself over to look down at him. “Rude.”

“You’re cute.”

“I know I am.” You smirk as you lean down to kiss him.

Shoto happily sighs as your lips slot perfectly against his. His hands carefully roam the tops of your thighs before creeping up the back of your shirt slowly.

“You look good in my clothes.”

“Mmm that’s why I wear them.”

Shaking his head he tangled a hand in your hair pulling you back down to him. It’s a familiar thing for the two of you, long drawn out make out sessions with a small mix of groping and grinding against one another until you finally reach the edge of your comfort zone. His hands roam over your body easily, memorizing every little detail they touch. Shoto grabs greedy handfuls of your ass as your mouths work together. His hands knead at the fat of your ass as he uses it as leverage to move you against him.

You both groan into the other's mouth as he pulls you to softly grind against him. You moan sweetly against him as you feel his cock stir beneath you. He lets out a soft grunt as you grind down a little harder on him. Pulling away from the kiss he lets his head rest against the pillows as he looks up at you with half lidded, his thumbs rub soft circles onto your hips as he watches you move against him. You keep your movement at a steady pace as you watch his face twitch and contort softly with every little grunt and groan he lets out. The feeling of his hardened cock pressing against you as you move against him has your already slightly dampened panties soaking uncomfortably quick as you think of what could possibly happen.

“Y/n, love tell me what you want.” He whispers up at you softly.

“I want you.”

“Want me to help get you off love?” He mutters leaning up to kiss your neck as he lets one of the hands on your hip slide down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Shoto, I um, I want want you.” Swallowing your nerves you continue “I’ve been thinking about it and I want it to be you.” You whisper softly leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I want you to be my first.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you finally sit up to look at him fully. A bright blush rests over his cheeks as he stares up at you with wide bi colored eyes. You watch as he swallows hard before finally nodding, seeming to have finally processed everything. Letting go of you he pushes himself up to rest against the headboard before bringing a hand up to your cheek and pulling you close again.

“You’ll tell me if you want to stop right?”

“Of course, I trust you Sho. You’ll um take the lead right?”

“If that’s what you’re more comfortable with of course.”

“Yes please.”

Giving you a quick nod he pulls you into a soft kiss before letting him slide back down the headboard to rest amongst the pillows with you on top of him. He lets his hands drift down to your ass again to coax you back into grinding against him. The two of you continue that way for a little while, simply kissing and nipping at one another. Groaning against you he wraps an arm around you tightly to quickly flip the two of you over. Sitting up on his knees he quickly pulls his shirt over his head smirking at the way your eyes rake over his toned torso. He fiddles with the hem of the shirt you're wearing waiting for your nod of approval before pulling it off to admire your naked torso. You fidget slightly under his gaze fighting off the temptation of covering your bare chest.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispers leaning down to pepper soft kisses across your face before diving down to press harsher ones against your neck. His hands cautiously creep up your body to softly grope at your breasts. “You’re so soft and perfect love.”

You relax again at his words letting him touch you the way he pleases. A small moan escapes you as his thumbs toy with your nipples softly, fingers kneading into the plushness. Shoto lets out quiet hums of happiness at the feeling of finally being able to hold and touch you in all ways. He carefully begins to work his way down from your neck, pressing little kisses against your skin. He nips softly at the soft skin of your breast peeking up at you through his hair before moving slightly to allow his teeth to graze your already sensitive nipple before carefully letting his lips wrap around it. He softly laps and sucks at it, switching to the other when you arch your back pressing him further into your chest.

“Sho, keep going please.” You whine tugging at his hair.”

Humming against you he starts moving again, leaving little kisses against the soft skin of your belly until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He kisses along the edge before lifting his head to look up at you as if asking permission to continue. When you give him a small nod he wraps his fingers around it gently before tugging your shorts and panties down in one go leaving you completely bare to him. You can’t help the nerves that suddenly swell up inside of you as you clench your legs together in a small attempt to hide.

“Please don’t hide from me love, you’re perfect.” Whispers Shoto running his hands along your sides in an attempt to ease your nerves. “We can stop if you’re not ready.”

“Sorry, just a little nervous.” You whisper, taking in a deep breath you let your legs relax. “Keep going, I trust you.”

Smiling at you sweetly he moves to spread your legs and settles himself in between them. He’s touched you before but having him this close to your soaked center is oddly nerve wracking. Soft hands rub against the tops of your thighs before pushing your legs just a little further apart. Once settled he uses his thumbs to gently spread your lips apart to look at your clenching little hole. Shifting slightly you throw an arm over your eyes to avoid looking down at him until you feel it.

You let out a surprised moan as Shoto licks a strip up your soaked little pussy. He eagerly groans into your core as he continues to let his tongue explore as you moan and tug at his hair. His nose softly bumps and rubs against your clit as he eagerly licks into you, letting his tongue explore you and happily letting your taste coat his mouth. Moving up he sucks softly on your clit as he slowly circles a finger around your entrance coating it in your slick. Moving your arm you finally look down only to be met with Shoto’s hazy lust filled gaze as he sucks at your clit and carefully works a singular finger into you.

“Oooh Shoto!” You moan out tugging at his hair as he groans heavily against your clit.

His eyes gaze up to your through a lust filled haze as he slowly pumps his finger in you as he lets his tongue lap at your clit. Popping off your clit he speeds up the pace of his finger and changes his position to lean over you as he watches your face for any kind of discomfort. Twisting his wrist ever so slightly he finally hits the little spot inside of that leaves you moaning freely. Carefully he eases in a second finger slowing the pace down and letting you get used to the stretch. When your mouth drops open with a low moan of his name he picks the pace back up, letting the pads of his fingers press against that spongy spot inside of you.

“You’re so good for me my love. Look how perfect you are.” He groans out as he feels your walls clamp around him sporadically. “Your pussy is so pretty baby, look how cute it looks wrapped around my fingers.”

You rock your hips up into his hand, looking up at him with little tears dotting the corners of your eyes. Licking at his bottom lip he drops back down between your thighs letting his tongue play with your sensitive little clit. Your hips shift around relentlessly at the stimulation until he throws his free arm over you to hold you in place as he pressed his fingers into you faster.

“Shoto! M’gonna cum.” You squeal as he licks and sucks at your clit harder pulling you closer to your end. FInally he presses a third finger in officially pushing you over the edge at the added stretch and pressure.

“That’s it love, cum for me.” He grunts out as he eases you through your orgasm. He carefully pulls his finger free of your spasming walls before leaning down to lick a long strip up your slit. Shoto eagerly licks at slick the drips from you, softly pushing your legs open as they threaten to close around him.

He lets you whine and tug at his hair as he digs his tongue into your now drenched and stretched little hole. He shoves his face into your center letting his nose rub against your now sensitive clit as he licks into you groaning as he ruts against the bed as the taste of you spreads throughout his mouth. Grunting into he switches between licking at your clit and pressing his tongue as far into your spasming walls as he can. The feeling quickly begins to overstimulate you as he smothers himself in your pussy. Your hands scramble to push him away as he goes back to focusing on your clit again as the feeling of another orgasm quickly creeps up on you.

“Sho! Too much!” You cry out as he sends you crashing over the edge again. Finally you manage to push him off of you as your legs shake around him with tears running down your face from the over stimulation.

“Fuck, sorry love.” He says breathing heavily. He quickly wipes your juices from the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand before moving up to lean down and kiss you softly. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You okay?”

“Uh huh” you mumble through a head filled with a lovely pleasure haze.

“Do you wanna stop here?” He questions pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“No, I really want to keep going please. I wanna know what it feels like to have you in me please.” You whisper blinking the haze away.

“Yeah? Ok, fuck we can do that.” Swallowing thickly he gives you another quick kiss before pushing the rest of his clothes off quickly. You watch with wide eyes as his hard cock slaps up against his lower abs. “You can say no still at any point ok?”

“I know.” You whisper as you pull him back down to you for a long drawn out kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He mumbles against your lips. He settles himself over you, one arm holding himself up while the other reaches down to tease the blunt head of his cock against your soaked entrance. “Ready?”

“Mmhmm” You hum out quietly leaning up to kiss him softly again.

Licking his lips Shoto watches you closely as he slowly works on pushing into you. He offers a small chorus of praises as your face scrunches up at the slight stinging the unfamiliar stretch causes. The arm not holding him up quickly comes up to tangle your fingers together as he finally bottoms out within you. He leans down bringing you into a soft kiss as he stills, letting you adjust to the new feeling.

“You’re doing so good love. Feel so good already.” he mutters against your cheek, squeezing your hand tightly. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Nodding softly you let your face relax as you take in a deep breath. Suddenly you're very thankful for his earlier prep and over stimulation as the small sting still rings throughout your body lightly. Peeling your eyes open you look up at Shoto, admiring the way his hair falls around his face. When he takes note of you looking up at you he smiles softly and kisses you. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Move Shoto.” You whisper softly, squeezing his hand.

Sucking in a harsh breath he slowly eases his hips back only leaving the tip in before pushing back in just as slowly still giving you plenty of time to adjust. When given no indications of unease, he builds a slow pace letting you feel every inch of him as he pushes into you. Slowly he feels your body relax against him as he rolls his hips into yours. His own body relaxes slightly when your mouth falls open and softly little moans finally begin to spill from it.

“Mmm Shoto, feels good.”

“Yeah? Fuck, you feel amazing love.” Shoto says grunting softly into your neck. He lets out a low moan when you shift your hips to wrap your legs around his waist successfully pulling him deeper into you. “Shit, it’s like you were made for me.”

“Faster Sho. Please.”

Biting into your neck softly he works his hips faster into yours groaning when you begin to roll your hips to match his pace.

“That’s it, good job baby. So good for me baby girl”

The two of you build a comfortable rhythm as the soft rhythmic sound of skin slapping together mixed with your soft moans and his grunts fills the room. With every thrust his cock kisses at your cervix filling you to the brim. The veins that litter his cock rub at all of the little sensitive spots within that up until this point had never been touched. Letting go of your hand he pushes his free hand underneath you pulling you closer to him.

Your eyes roll back as the angle is slightly changed and his tip rubs effortless against that little spongy spot with every single thrust. You bring your arms up to wrap around Shoto’s shoulders to claw at his back. You feel your cheeks flush as you look up to see Shoto watching every little move you make, from the fucked out little faces to the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you. His pupils are blown as his face is drowned in lust from watching you. He grunts heavily when your walls eagerly clench around his cock.

“Love you so much baby, so fuckin’ perfect and tight around my cock.” He states with a particularly hard thrust.

“Love you too Sho, feels good.” you moan eagerly pulling him down and into a sloppy open mouthed kiss. “Shoto! Wanna cum.” you moan into his mouth.

Nodding with a quiet grunt he pulls his arm out from underneath you to push it between the two of you. He fumbles around for a second as you clench around him again before regaining his composure and rubbing tight circles against your clit. As the added stimulation courses through your body your mouth drops open allowing soft pants and moans of his name to fall freely from your mouth. Finally he pushes you closer and closer to the edge of your third orgasm as he slowly speeds his thrusts up just a little more. Your legs tighten around his waist pulling him even closer as your walls spasm around him helplessly.

You look up at him, letting a warbled chorus of his name fall from your parted lips as you push your hips harder into his. Nails bite into his shoulders as a final hard thrust pushes you over the edge.

“S-s-shoto.” You whimper out pathetically as you come crashing over the edge. Your head tipped back into the pillows as your pussy creamed around him, walls spasming in attempt to milk him. “ Sho! F-fuck Sho.”

“Shit, shit that’s it baby, fuck good girl.” He groans above you rolling his hips a little slower to help work you through your orgasm. The feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him forces him closer to his own end. “Fuck ok baby, ‘m gonna cum, shit where should I?”

“In! Please Sho wanna feel it in me.”

“Fuck. Y/N fuck, shit.” He grunts into your neck as a shudder rocks through his body just as he pushes all the way to the hilt and begins to fill you. The tip of his cock presses snuggly up against your cervix as hot spurts of cum fill you. His hips give a few half assed thrusts as he finally stills above you, breathing heavily he lowers himself to rest on top of you still holding up the majority of his weight in an attempt to not crush you. “Baby, you okay?”

“Uh huh, I’m I’m ok.” you whisper, eyes closed as you attempt to regulate your breathing.

Pushing himself up just high enough to look down at you, carefully he brings a hand up to push a few stray strands of hair out of your face. Your eyes flutter open slowly only to be met with Shoto’s slightly concerned face.

“Are you sure you’re ok love?” he questions caressing your cheek softly.

“Yeah I’m sure, I feel good.” You say offering him a small pleased smile before turning your head to kiss his palm softly.

“Good.” He whispers leaning down to kiss you softly. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, it was perfect. I made the right decision.” You whisper pulling him back into a kiss. When you drop back to the bed you look up at him with slightly tired eyes.

“C’mon lets get you cleaned up so we can go to bed.”

He slowly pulls his now softened cock out of you watching as his cum slowly drips out of your abused little hole. You whimper quietly at the now empty feeling. Shoto presses a soft kiss to your forehead and a mumbled “sorry”. Getting off the bed he quickly pulls on his previously discarded sweats and heads to the bathroom. He comes back with warm wet cloth, climbing back on the bed he carefully works on cleaning up the mess between your legs and tossing the cloth into the nearby laundry basket. Grabbing the shirt he was wearing earlier he helps you sit up and slips it over your head.

“Need anything?”

“Cuddles?”

“Of course.” He says laughing softly. He quickly switches off the lights before laying down and opening his arms for you to curl into his chest. Once you settle he wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead and offers you a hand so you can play with his fingers. “So worth the wait?”

“Oh yeah definitely. What do you think, was I worth the wait?”

“You are beyond perfect my love. I’d wait a thousand years to be with you.”

“Mmm that was so cheesy Sho.”

“I know, but it’s true. I love you Y/n”

“Love you too Shoto.” You mumble out.

The soft rhythmic beating of his heart lulls you to sleep. As your breathing evens out Shoto can’t help but smile down at you passed out against his chest. Everything around the two of you just feels right at this moment. Even when you would wake up the next morning with a soft ache between your legs you’d kiss him happily and say it was worth it.

#mha smut #mha x y/n #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #mha todoroki #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki x y/n #bnha todoroki #todoroki smut #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #bnhacity

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other.

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit.

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

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buck-nialled · 3 years

Text

3:1 - B. Barnes Imagine

NOTE: this is my first time writing for bucky or sebastian stan in general so feedback is appreciated! please let me know if you like this and if you'd like to see more. THIS DOES CONTAIN SMUTTY UNDERTONES TOWARDS THE END, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: I just added sebastian stan/characters to my taglist form so if you already filled it out before just message me and I'll add you to this one.

three times bucky was clueless with technology and the one time he used it right

Despite spending most of his less-than-average life inside of a giant freezer and aging up to triple digits—if we’re speaking technically, your boyfriend still gained many physical benefits compared to most men his age. For one thing, he is still alive and breathing—a huge accomplishment, if anything, maybe even a record. The physical appearance and athletic ability he still maintained were not a downside either. As far as anybody is concerned, James Buchanan Barnes appears like any other millennial/super-soldier/metal arm-bearing person.

With exception to the fact that the man himself can’t even call you on your phone without needing assistance. That sentence is way less sad when taking into account that he was not alive for the upbringing of touch screens and AI’s, which happened to be waiting everywhere around the complex to aid him and his various, enigmatic asks, such as:

“My phone died. How do I revive it?”

“What did I win a free iPad for?”

“Friday, what does the word ‘bih’ mean?”

Once speaking the last one, he is left unanswered, and Friday is alerting you in the living area moments later.

“Y/N, Mr. Barnes is needing your assistance with a text you sent. He would like a definition of the word ‘bih’ but I cannot find it in my dictionary.” The AI asking for your help in babysitting Bucky on his phone earns a snort from you.

“Thanks, Friday. I’ll go help him.” You heave yourself up from the couch cushion and march towards his bedroom--technically, it is both of yours now. After reaching the entrance, a smile crawls onto your lips at the sight before you. The hefty Miriam-Webster English dictionary splayed open on your lover’s lap as he flips through pages, reciting miscellaneous words his eyes land on in search of the one from your message.

“Big, bin, bio…” Seconds later, he is slamming the book shut and tossing it aside. A loud thud resounds across the room as you watch it land on the hardwood floor. When you glance back up to announce your presence to Bucky, you see his gaze already transfixed on you. A quiet huff comes from him, and his eyes avert from your figure in the doorway, his cheeks becoming tinged with an opaque red. It was no puzzle that the sergeant despised calling for help, even on the minuscule tasks, like how to turn the flash of his camera off or define a slang term unbeknownst to him until your message was delivered to his phone.

“A little birdy told me you needed help.” You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe with a satisfied smirk. You were one of the few and trusted Bucky had learned to open up to in the time that you have come to know him. No matter the issue, or how long it took for you to wear down the stubbornness on his tongue, the plea would sound eventually.

“I just don’t know what this word means.” He grunts. “Is it a typo?”

A line of giggles fall from you at his hopelessly confused expression--eyebrows furrowed, pupils appearing lost in thought at this simple “code word” he couldn’t crack. It made you want to swaddle him in the softest blanket and cuddle him until eternity.

“That’s because it’s not a real word,” you begin through laughs. The scrunch on his face only deepens in its perplexity. “‘Bih’ is short for...it’s short for bitch.” You shrug. His mouth parts in revelation.

“So you...you think I’m a…” he turns his eyes down to the pixelated string of messages…”thick female dog?” You snicker.

“‘Thick bih’ is a compliment, Buck. It just means I like your body a lot.”

“Oh...thank you?” He casts his eyes up at you once more, quirking a brow.

“You’re welcome.”

“Anyways...now that you’re here. I emailed you a photo.” He shoots a wink in your direction. Almost as though you two had traded faces, the confused look transferred over to your wrinkled forehead and tilted head.

“Oh...okay. I’ll check it later.”

You thought nothing of it, and let his statement slip your mind. It was not until later that you decided to scan through your emails with Wanda, who mentioned something mission-related in your inbox that she demanded the two of you look at and study. As you skimmed through to find it, you deleted several junk emails and starred some important ones. When you landed on the electronic mail your boyfriend mentioned earlier and clicked on it, your breath left you at the large photo of his considerably-sized girth.

“Woah! Woah!” Wanda squeals, reaching her hand up to shield her eyes now tainted with the sight of your man’s junk. The early afternoon comes back into your mind, with you against the doorframe, Bucky throwing the dictionary and demanding a translation of your text, and the wink he threw at you.

Of course, the wink. It should have been obvious what the intentions behind his email were at that point, but then again it really shouldn’t have. Because who sends nude photos over email?

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, now wearing red cheeks. You turn to face Wanda who is already out of her seat and facing away from the computer screen, calling back to you in a desperate scurry to her room, “We’ll just talk later!”

“Bucky,” you enter the bedroom with a growl minutes later, a rather great contrast to what you were feeling earlier in the day.

“Hey, doll. Did you ever open my email?” He was seated on the edge of the bed, eyeing something on his phone. He quickly pockets it, allowing you his undivided attention.

“Yeah, and Wanda had something to say about it too.” The comment came out through gritted teeth, but he deciphered every word. His blue eyes enlarged, petrified.

“She was with you? Wh-why’d you let her see it?” He almost squeals in his fit of mortification. Serves him right, you think to yourself. He won’t have to face Wanda and apologize to her later.

“I didn’t know when you said “picture” earlier you meant a nude! Who sends a dick pic over email, Bucky?” Silence follows your outcry until his deep voice pipes up moments later.

“Is that not normal?” He is fiddling with his fingers, clenching his teeth in anticipation of your answer. Which is an expected:

“No.” The man in front of you turns feeble, wearing a humiliated face that turns your insides to mush. The twenty-plus minutes of lashing you were practicing in your head on your walk to the room disappeared as he turns his face down.

“I’m sorry, doll. You know...you know I’m not good with this stuff.” A sigh exits your lips as Bucky is approached by your consoling figure. You take a seat beside him on the bed and a comforting hand takes place on his metal shoulder, with you leaning your head down on the flesh one, closest to you.

“I know, Buck. Just warn a girl next time...with more than a wink.”

“In 1943 that was considered a warning.” The two of you chuckle.

“You know what, better yet...” your hands are flying to his pocket before he can stop them. He barely utters the question before you’re fingertips are tapping across the screen.

“Hey, what’re you--”

“You should really put a lock on this thing.” You chuckle. “A thumbprint, passcode...something.”

“You can do that?” His ludicrous question has you fighting a roll of your eyes. Shaking your head, you wait a few moments for the application to install on the device, and smile triumphantly when the neon yellow square pops up on his home screen. The white ghost in the middle of the icon stares back at him when you place the phone back in his hands.

“There you go.”

“What is this?” He clicks the app to find out for himself, only to be met with the options of logging in or creating an account.

“An app that’s appropriate for sending nudes.” Shivers trail down his spine from your whisper against the shell of his ear. He hums, admiring the screen for a few seconds and taking no further action to make an account.

“You need help, don’t you?”

“It’d be appreciated.”

Since that encounter, your significant other has learned the basics of social platforms and how to properly exploit each one for his needs. Ignoring the one week where he discovered Snapchat filters and send photos of himself in every single one nonstop, the most common one you two have grown to use is the messaging application. It was efficient and easy for him to understand.

Until he, much like when he used Snapchat, discovered something new. And that something new was emojis. After receiving a Snapchat notification from him, which could no doubt be holding either a photo of him with the dancing weiner or his actual one, he shot you a text message from across the compound.

did you see my chatsnap? 🌚

You chose to disregard the blatant, incorrect name and reply:

yes, buck. I get notifications

and WHY THE HELL DID YOU SEND THAT EMOJI??? 😫

what? it’s just a moon 🌚🌚🌚 see?

I can see it’s a moon Bucky. Why did you choose that one?

It’s nighttime. and I’m smiling. It fits.

It’s creepy is what it is

It’s just a moon! 🌚

STOP SENDING IT! 😖😖

fine.

🌝

🤦‍♀️ that’s not what I meant

it’s not my fault you’re scared of the moon, y/n 💅

You chose to change the subject then, no longer holding the desire to stare at the infamous “molester moon” or bucky’s new use of emojis in a sassy manner

please tell me the snap you sent isn’t of the dancing hot dog again

I could tell you that

but I’d be lying if I did.

🙄

🌝 I think this one's my favorite

The third time Bucky struggled with the new-age doodads surrounding him, his rage was at an all-time high. But his reaction is justifiable after discovering it was purely out of fear.

“Do you know what the weather’s gonna be like tomorrow?” He mumbles as the two of you were longing on the bed, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“Not sure, why?”

“Was thinkin’ we could go to that café. The one with the jukebox.” His head bounces with your body as you let out a few light laughs.

“Because it’s the one piece of technology you can actually use?” He pulls away from you defensively, a frown smeared on his face.

He whines out. “I am not that bad with technology?” You roll your eyes and reach for your phone on the bedside table, clicking the button on the side.

“Hey Siri, what’s the weather look like tomorrow?” You ask aloud, cueing Bucky to furrow his eyebrows.

“Let’s see...the weather tomorrow—“ you were unable to hear the rest of the AI’s sentence due to the sight of Bucky springing out of bed and tugging the set of sharpened knives from his pants.

“Whose there? Who the hell said that?”

“Bucky—“

“I think the complex may have been hacked. Come on, let’s go get Bruce o-or somebody.” He stutters out in a panic, tugging your body behind him in a protective manner. Siri was still activated on your phone, which was now lying on the bed.

“I’m not quite sure I understand—“

“Who the hell are you?!” He demands in a loud voice.

“Bucky, Bucky…” you rest your hands on both his shoulders, urging him to calm down. “It’s just my phone.” After the quick reassurance, he feels his shoulders slump.

“Oh...oh…I knew that.” He puts his knives away, following you as you crawled back into bed. Before fully getting beneath the covers, he sheathes himself of his trousers and top, leaving him only in a pair of boxers.

“Sure you did.” You reply.

“I did.” He insists, before covering both of you with your comforter. Before succumbing to a much-needed rest though, he reaches over and grabs a knife left on the floor, tucking it beneath his pillow.

Just in case.

The following morning, Bucky is no longer paranoid that the complex was hijacked and broken into. Rather, his mind was on a package he ordered online (AND ALL BY HIMSELF, a large victory if you ask him) that, according to the tracker, is one stop away. When you peeked your eyes open to admire him beneath the covers basking in the morning glow, his mischievous smile lit something warm inside you.

“What’s got you so smiley?” You yawn through languid blinks. He only responds with a shrug, aiming to keep the box a secret.

“Big day ahead, why don’t you go start us a shower. I’ll meet you there.” He smirks, blue eyes flashing with something cunning. At this point, you were even more curious.

“Big day? I thought we were just going for coffee?”

“When I’m with you, it’s always a big day.” His raspy voice is sly, metal hand even slyer as it glides up and down your hip.

“Alright Barnes, you win. See you in a minute.” You press your lips to his for a short few seconds and heave your body up from the bed to venture to the connected bathroom. As soon as you crack the door behind you, Bucky leaps from his spot in the sheets and nearly stumbles to the ground, his foot getting tangled in part of the bedding. He wastes no time scurrying to the front door, nearly nude and praying to God nobody would cross paths with him. Seeing the package laying on the doormat in all its glory--Bucky swore he heard angels singing hymns from above. Taking it into his grip and hustling back to his room took little-to-no time. When he slipped inside of the bathroom, he found you removing your hair from the messy knot you threw it up in the night prior, the rest of you bare.

He dropped his boxers and followed you inside the transparent cube, soon to become fogged with the warm steam and your panting breaths if he is lucky enough to pull another round from you.

Spoiler alert, he got lucky. Twice.

Whilst getting dressed, he halts your attempt at wiggling on a pair of leggings.

"I have a surprise for you." He says, waltzing over to the package he haphazardly threw on the bed in his eagerness to join you in the shower. The package lies in your hands seconds later, Bucky delivering you a nod as permission to tear it open. Once you do, your jaw unhinges at the packaging.

The small, pink sex toy stared back at you in all its glory. You could only muster a few blinks at it, wondering how your boyfriend managed to deliver this to himself all on his own yet still strains himself in trying to change his profile picture.

"Wha--how..." you are at a loss of words, to say the least. His piercing blue eyes grow dark at the sight of you holding his surprise.

"It's a big day today, because..." he snatches the packaged toy from you, beginning to open it, "you're gonna wear this out for me today. And I'm gonna control it." Your eyes grow big at his explanation before they dart to the now unpackaged vibrator.

"There's no remote." You point out, and gasp as Bucky holds up his phone for your eyes to see. The application which connects the controls of the vibrator to his phone stares back at you dauntingly.

"Figured I'd give this wifi-powered one a try. But, you know how I am with technology so...it may take awhile for me to get the hang of it," his tone is sultry as he mumbles, and it sends chills through you that directly target your privates. His eyes bore into yours, still holding that look of playfulness from earlier.

"Finish getting ready, doll. I'm ready to take this thing for a test drive."

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