#I should have gone to sleep hours ago *sighs*

[quaithe-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[nell0-0]

Some eepy boys

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice. 

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out. 

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak. 

His mind runs. 

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers. 

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight. 

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply. 

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall. 

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt. 

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms. 

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left. 

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.” 

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack. 

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes. 

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement. 

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately. 

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp. 

Lifeless.  

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester. 

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back. 

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic. 

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid. 

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant. 

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly. 

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it. 

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable. 

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor. 

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck. 

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper. 

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house. 

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.” 

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around. 

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop. 

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears. 

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious. 

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in. 

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens. 

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge. 

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up. 

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!” 

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter. 

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet. 

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket. 

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly. 

It was good to be back. 

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them. 

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself. 

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor. 

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you. 

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline. 

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously. 

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you. 

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before. 

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you. 

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night. 

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.” 

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.” 

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

[oceantornadoo]

sleepy morning (simon riley x f!reader)

part 4 of the two lieutenants series...HORNINESS LEVEL 1000

tw: wet and messyyyyyyyyy MDNI

--

that had to have been the best sleep of your life.

no seriously. extra strength melatonin could not compare to sleeping with simon THEE “ghost” riley. you had never had such a broad, thick man on top of you. and you liked it.

now, however, you found yourself in a much more compromising position.

the sleep had started innocent enough, you both insisting it was a platonic arrangement, a cheap version of getting a weighted blanket. but you had shuffled in your sleep, and now your bodies were tangled. simon's head lay on your collabone, his mouth hovering over your clothed breast, emitting small sighs in his sleep. your nipples were aching at the prolonged stimulation, his breath changing the temperature and making them harden. his hands grasped you beneath your arms, thumbs brushing the sides of your tits. you didn't think it was on purpose, but you had been on the edge for hours.

simon nuzzled closer into you, feigning sleep as long as possible. his left thigh wedged between your legs, his right bracketing the outside of yours to keep you right there. his morning wood, clothed by his thin sweats, laid heavy against your thigh. he could almost smell the wetness between your thighs, the way you tried humping him when you were asleep. little, uncontrolled movements of your hips, up and down, chasing friction. he tried to stop his teeth from sinking into your clothed tit, the softness of it so tempting. you were right there, almost his, yet so far it felt like foreign territory. somewhere he's been plenty of times, unwelcome. he had to tread carefully. then of course, soap had the gall to knock.

"l.t.? yer on recruit training, started a couple minutes ago." simon groaned against you, providing even more friction to your tit. guess he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. "'m sick. cancel it." a pause, soap was unbelieving. when simon was sick, if anything, he coached the recruits with even more vengeance than usual. "yer sure?" simon propped himself up on his forearms, squishing you in between them even more. you looked up at him, a dream with your tired eyes and a bit of drool at the corner of your mouth. he laid a small kiss to your forehead, so small you must still be dreaming. "cancel it. 'm bedridden today." his gravelly morning voice must have been enough for soap, who he could virtually hear straightening up after leaning against simon's doorframe. "got it, l.t."

simon breathed a sigh of relief. finally, finally, he acknowledged you. "mornin' dovie. sleep well?" sleep well?! you had slept like the dead. "best sleep of my life, simon. might have to make this a regular thing." you joked, still unsure of the lines that had been erased last night. and that forehead kiss. "available whenever ya need, love." you were still tangled together, his cock still against your cunt. you bucked against him again involuntarily, the whisper of friction too light for you. you both looked down together at where you were almost touching, separated by two layers of fabric. "simon i-"

another loud knock. "what." simon gritted out. "seen the better lieutenant, ghost? we're supposed to run drills today an' i can't find her." it was gaz and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. simon looked down at you questioningly and you shook your head vehemently. "she's sick. contagious." gaz was choking back a laugh. he must have talked to soap before this. "alrigh', i'll tell price. get better, you two." fuck.

"shit, si, i'm sorry. should have slept at my own place i-" another forehead kiss this time, a bit longer than the first. he trailed his mouth to your nose, small pecks here and there. turning his head down, he nosed your jaw, inhaling the smell of your mixed scents. like you were two of the same. one.

"can i?" you were so far gone it took a bit for his question to register. you had tilted your head back to give him more access, a willing prey to your domestic predator. "can- can you what?" he moved down a bit more, cock moving away from your cunt. you unwillingly let out a whine at the loss of contact and he chuckled into your skin. "suck your tits, baby." oh. oh.

"yes, yes. please"

he laughed again, the sensation vibrating through your skin. his mouth finally made contact with your tit, mouthing at it over your t-shirt. thankfully, it was thin, so you can feel the slight suck and the ghost of a bite. he alternated between your breasts, hands rolling the other nipple he wasn't sucking. your shirt was wet, sticking to your skin, drenched in saliva. "simon, can you- please." the last part was a moan as he gave you a bigger bite. "use your words, lieutenant." he was rutting into the bed, cock chasing much needed friction. he didn't want to scare you but his need for you was bubbling over, a pot on the stove too long. "my shirt, ah, my shirt off."

he freed you from your shirt, the fabric drenched in his saliva, sticking to your skin as he peeled it off. your tits were wet and slightly bruised from his minstrations. marked.

"you like my marks on you?" you looked down, not caring about the unsexy double chin as you took in what he had done to you. keeping it platonic was done and dead, and you were going to take advantage of it.

"more."

a willing soldier, he dove back in, licking and sucking like he had been made for it. his right hand went lower, palm pressing against your wet pussy for some much-needed attention to your clit. you had never come from nipple stimulation alone, but you had been edged for hours while you were sleeping. the pressure on your clit was perfect, the wetness seeping through your sleep shirts onto his callused hand. he let go of your nipple with a loud smack, a string of saliva dripping from his chin. "think you can come like this, dove?" you nodded furiously, his desperate little dove. simon went back down to your abandoned tits and you gasped at the feeling of his bite. he pressed his palm harder against your aching cunt, virtually feeling the flutter of your wanting pussy, pleading for him. he rubbed it in circles, up and down, listening to your sounds to find a pattern you liked.

and suddenly he had it, your back arching as you felt that telltale spark at the base of your spine. simon felt it, your desperation increasing tremendously as you bucked into his hand, thrusting out your tits like a bitch in heat. "right there, baby. come fer' me, hm?" you nodded as he gave your tit one last long suck and pressed his palm right where you needed it, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. he lightly tongued your breasts as you came down, cleaning up his mess. "feel better?" you groaned, the reality of how desperate you had acted finally hitting you.

"they all know, simon. the whole base knows by now." he moved up until you two were face to face. so what if the whole base knew? you had been his since that first handshake.

"so what?"

--

guys this was so horny wowwwwwwwww ovulation hitting me fr

[zephyrchama]

(Obey Me! Barbatos x reader with no gender mentioned.)

(Some very intimate Barbatos fluff for his birthday! Posting one evening early for the American crowd as it's already his birthday in Japan.)

You hadn't realized how late it was.

With the Devildom sky being in a constant state of darkness, hours could easily slip by unnoticed. Barbatos' birthday dinner had wrapped up long ago. You offered to stay and help tidy things up. Afterwards, the two of you retreated to his bedroom to converse over drinks.

The time displayed on your D.D.D. was shocking. You should have gone home ages ago. It wouldn't be safe for a human to walk the streets at this hour, so you asked, "Is it okay if I spend the night?"

Barbatos responded, with no hesitation, "Of course. I'll prepare a guest room for you immediately."

You shook your head and put out an arm to stop him from getting up. "I can't ask you to work more on your birthday. What if... I stayed with you tonight?"

Barbatos contemplated the idea with a sip of tea. "I would like that very much." A smile crept onto his face, gradually becoming the biggest one you had seen all day. "Are you sure you can handle it? I must say, with all the pampering I've received today, I'm in a rather selfish mood."

--

It turns out, there really is a bed in one of the many nooks of Barbatos' room. It was on the smaller side, with sufficient room for one butler, but a smidge too tight to fit a couple. It was expertly arranged with layers of fluffy comforters and two sets of pillows, as if Barbatos foresaw this turn of events.

"Make yourself at home."

Barbatos briefly excused himself and left the room, giving you time to change into borrowed pajamas. They were his signature turquoise. Long and loose and flowy robes that crossed in the front with a belt to tie the fabric around one's waist. They made it easy to slide into bed where you nested into the soft sheets. They were sparkling clean and smelled of fragrant detergent with a hint of Barbatos' natural odor.

"Now then, if you'll pardon me."

You hadn't heard him return. The mattress suddenly shifting made your heart skip a beat. It got warmer under the covers. You lifted your head to get a glimpse of the birthday boy but he quickly took that as an invitation entwine his fingers in your hair. Round nails grazed against the top layer of your scalp as your face got pressed into the curve of his neck. You felt a peck on your head.

"As you can see, my bed is narrow. Allow me to make some adjustments." Barbatos intended to make maximum use of the minimal space. All in the name of comfort, his leg went between yours, thigh rubbing against thighs. A hand coiled around your midsection, tucking itself under the robe's belt and pulling your waist against his. Your bodies were so close that a third person could probably fit.

The fingertips in your hair trailed down your ear, around to your collarbone, down your arm. Raising goosebumps along their path. Barbatos threaded his slim fingers into yours and placed a kiss upon your hand. "If this bothers you, do stop me."

You shook your head, nuzzling into his neck. It took some time to discover the grooves in his body where you fit the best. He worked his way back up your arm with his mouth, retracing the route he just took. Some spots he would only exhale over. Some spots he would part his lips and sample your taste with the tip of his tongue. He was making it hard to sleep.

Through all the doting, you nudged your face up and softly peeped, "Hey, Barb?"

He reluctantly came to a stop at once. The pressure on your back loosened, his grip let go. A resigned sigh escaped next to your ear, so full of yearning yet so faint you could have imagined it. You placed a hand on his cheek, brushing back the long strands of hair on the side of his face. Barbatos touched his forehead to yours. Deep emerald eyes seemed to shine in the dark. You wondered if they glowed.

"Yes?"

"Happy Birthday."

Barbatos froze. This was not what he expected. Aside from his chest subtly rising and falling with each breath, he was a complete statue. You let him process the simple sentence, content to gaze into his astonished expression and play with his hair. His skin heated up. A pink blush overtook his whole body. Months of conditioned restraint had to be fought back before he wholeheartedly embraced you.

His weight dug your legs into the soft blankets. Everything felt plush. Barbatos grabbed a fistful of fabric along your midriff and placed kisses on your nose, your eyelids, your lips, whilst you were busy laughing at the onset of affection. The mattress shifted again, the covers slid. When finally you could catch your breath, you were laying face up, eye-to-eye with the demon on top of you.

"I cannot imagine a better gift," he cooed.

[firewasabeast]

so I made this post yesterday then felt the need to turn it into a little fic. enjoy!

“Oh my God, Evan,” Tommy breathed out heavily, trying to keep himself from grinding up against Buck's thigh.

Buck's only response was a hum against Tommy's neck, licking at the spot he'd been sucking on before going in for a bite.

Tommy had gotten to Buck's place about an hour ago. They'd managed to have dinner, dessert, and clean up most of the kitchen before Buck decided they'd gone long enough without touching. Tommy was rinsing the last of the dishes when Buck pressed himself against Tommy's back, reaching under the hem of his shirt to drag his hands over Tommy's muscles.

It didn't take long for the dishes to be forgotten. Or for Tommy's shirt to be tossed onto the table on their way up the stairs. Buck had lost his pants somewhere about halfway up the staircase, and the rest of their clothes were in small piles around the room.

They had time tonight. Neither of them had work the next day so it wasn't like they needed to rush through sex to get enough sleep. There would be no alarms to set, no helicopters to fly, no horrible captain to deal with. They could stay in bed for as long as they wanted... and sleep as little as they wanted.

Which is what led to Buck currently working on giving Tommy a hickey. Tommy couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been given a proper hickey. Probably high school, or maybe at a club when he was in his twenties? He couldn't really be sure, but he knew it never felt like this did. Buck's body pressed against his, one hand running over his abs while the other wrapped around the nape of his neck. The feeling of Buck's teeth scraping against his skin, then his tongue swooping in to ease the sting. The feeling of Buck's hair between his fingers while his other hand ran up and down his back and gave his ass an occasional squeeze.

Tommy was pretty sure he was in heaven. He made a mental note to tell his dad, should he ever have to speak to him again, that he did in fact make it through those pearly gates.

One more nibble against his pulse point had Tommy moaning, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting up against Buck.

Buck couldn't help but smirk. “Impatient,” he teased against Tommy's skin, kissing his way back up his jaw until he reached his lips. “I thought you were supposed to be the calm, cool, and collected one?” His lips brushed against Tommy's with every word.

Tommy shook his head, “Not with you,” he said before leaning up enough to give Buck a proper kiss. He could still taste a faint hint of tiramisu on Buck's tongue. Both of Tommy's hands traveled down to Buck's ass and he gave it a proper squeeze, eliciting a moan from him. He took the opportunity to hold tightly onto Buck and flip them over. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled that move, but it made Buck speechless every time, and Tommy loved doing that to him.

“Tom-” he huffed out, trying to find his voice as Tommy started working his way down Buck's chest. “T- Tommy,” he finally moaned. “N- Not fair.”

Tommy laughed against Buck's stomach, pressing a kiss just above his bellybutton. As he was continuing his mission to kiss over every inch of Evan's body before reaching his dick, there was a knock on the door that caused Tommy to pause.

“Ignore it,” Buck all but demanded, his legs twitching for Tommy's mouth to return to his thigh. Not one to disobey a direct order, Tommy continued.

Until the knocking started again. More persistent this time.

“Babe?” Tommy went to sit up, but Buck grabbed at his hair, keeping him in place.

“They'll leave.”

As if on cue, the knocking got louder, and faster.

Tommy sighed, sitting up and releasing himself from Buck's grip.

Buck whined at the loss. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“It could be an emergency,” Tommy said, rolling off the bed to look for his clothes. Begrudgingly, Buck got up as well.

“Hold on!” Buck yelled toward the door, he got his button up off the floor and put it on quickly, not bothering to mess with an undershirt first. As he headed downstairs he picked up his pants and ungracefully put them on. He tried buttoning his shirt, but seemed to skip a few of the buttons on his way, leaving it lopsided.

He didn't even bother trying to fix his hair.

The knocking started again just as Buck swung the door open.

“Took you long enough,” Eddie said, waltzing in with a six pack in one and hand a DVD in the other. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I, um, I was... I was working out,” Buck answered, wincing at his words. He was still in a bit of a daze, and trying very much not to think about the half naked man in his bedroom. He closed the door, then turned to Eddie who was setting his stuff down on the kitchen counter.

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, sounding slightly offended. “You should have called me, Man. We could've worked out together.”

Which... no.

“Uh, yeah, it... it was a last minute thing. I- What are you doing here, Eddie? Were we hanging out tonight?”

Eddie shrugged. “Figured I'd just stop by. We could watch a movie, drink, I could mourn the loss of my child.”

“You haven't lost him, Eddie.” Buck crossed his arms over his chest, moving toward the kitchen. “He's just figuring stuff out.”

“Mm. Well, anyway,” he pulled out a beer and popped off the cap, taking a sip. “Movie?”

“Uh-”

Before Buck could even try to think of an excuse, Tommy was walking down the stairs. Eddie noticed him first, and Buck turned to see that while he had on his pants, he was wearing a shirt that was very much not his.

Because his shirt was still on thrown on the table.

Whoops.

While Buck and Tommy were nearly the same size, Tommy did have a broader chest. And Buck often opted for tighter fitting clothing, so the particular shirt that Tommy was wearing clung to him like a rubber glove.

And if you asked Buck, that was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen.

“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy greeted, combing his fingers through his hair. It was in no way helping.

“Hey, Tommy!” Eddie replied cheerfully. He moved around the counter and held up his hand for a high five. “This is great! I didn't know you were here. Were you and Buck working out together?”

Tommy gave Buck a confused glance. “Uh, yeah?”

Buck knew that Eddie could be a little slow at putting two and two together. It was a quality they both shared. But he'd get there, and Buck watched as he started putting the puzzle pieces together.

First, he noticed the shirt. Then he noticed Tommy scratch at the hickey on his neck, which the shirt he chose did nothing to hide.

Then his eyes hit the clothes on the table.

Then his mouth opened. “Oh!” He looked back and forth between them, his lips turning up into a little smirk. “Oh you were “working out” working out? Okay, I'm understanding why I wasn't invited now.” He moved to the counter to grab the DVD. “I'm gonna go. Let you two, you know, get your hip thrusts in.”

“Eddie, you don't have to go,” Tommy said. “Might need more beer, but a movie sounds fun.”

“Yeah,” Buck agreed. “It's fine.”

“No, really, I am gonna go and enjoy Marley and Me on my own,” Eddie replied, backing up toward the door.

Tommy grimaced, shaking his head. “You cannot enjoy Marley and Me on your own. That movie broke me. I had to call out of work the next day.”

“Really, guys, it's all good. Sorry for the disruption. I will just...” his voice trailed off as he pointed behind him. He opened the door and left out, leaving Tommy and Buck standing there staring at each other.

“You're gonna go bring him back, right?” Tommy asked after a beat.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, focusing on the way his sleeves gripped Tommy's arms. “I think he'll be okay.”

“Evan.”

“Ugh!” Buck pouted, heading for the door. “Fine.”

Tommy smiled, shaking his head. “I'll order more beer.”

[earthtooz]

hurt/comfort blurb based off an ask @missmeinyourbones received :3

gojo x gn!sorcerer!reader, he's ridiculous, lovesick and dramatic in the one but that's how we like him here so. enjoy!!

“where is our couch?”

gojo looks up at you from his phone, grinning at you gently with the small smile that he always wears; one you’ve come to adore over the years. this time, however, it does nothing but irritate you because there is a large, vacant space in the living room that has ‘gojo satoru’ written all over it.

“what do you mean?” he asks but the lilt in his tone tells you everything you need to know.

that one, gojo has everything to do with your missing couch. two, you have fallen for his bait, successfully tricked into talking to him because three hours ago, you refused to acknowledge his existence after a heated argument that ended with you promising to sleep on the couch. yet after one harmless trip to the supermarket, you come back to discover that your bed for the night was missing.

and you know him well enough to know that his giddiness stems from the fact that you’re finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for the past few hours.

“where. is. our. couch?” you reaffirm, emphasising each word so they can get through his thick skull. 

“is it not in the living room?”

he sounds almost delighted at this peculiar interaction, seeming proud of himself as his eyes shine with mirth. they bravely look into your frustrated and irritated ones.

“i am in no mood to bicker, gojo,” you begin, “either you tell me where our couch has gone or i kick you out.”

the sorcerer pouts from where he sits on the bed, curling into a ball as he stares up at you. the sight would’ve been more comical if you weren’t so mad. “that’s not very nice.”

“you don’t deserve nice,” you mutter, turning on your heels to walk away before gojo can melt you with those honeyed words of his. from the bedroom, you hear fumbling and rustling, followed by footsteps. 

instead of paying gojo any mind, you go to the kitchen counter where you left the many bags of groceries you bought.

he rests his elbows on the kitchen island, subliminally begging for an ounce of your attention whilst you sort through the bags. “would you like some help?”

you give him a brief side-eye before resuming. his pout worsens.

“if i tell you what happened to our couch, will you promise to sleep on the bed tonight?” pleads the white-haired, “with me?”

you sigh, “yes.”

“i warped it somewhere.”

“what?” you almost drop the carton of eggs in your hold. “what do you mean ‘somewhere’?”

“somewhere in jujutsu tech, i’m not really sure.” he cringes at the glare you shoot him. “i was gonna get it back if you agreed!”

that was your last straw. running a hand down your face, you don’t see the way that your lover stares at you with hope from the corner of your eye. 

“for goodness’ sake, why did you warp our couch?” you quiz. 

“because you were going to sleep there,” he murmurs, “and i didn’t know how else to change your mind.”

“you’re twenty-three, gojo. you should know a thing or two about how to reconcile properly by now.” 

his pout worsens at the use of his family name. “i am a man in love, y/n, do you know what they say about men in love?”

before you can even think of a snarky remark, realisation hits you like an anvil. whenever gojo uses his teleportation technique it always… leaves… something behind. 

rushing over to the carpet that used to be under the couch, you almost have a heart attack when you lift it up and see the scorched marks that occur as a byproduct. the white-haired leans against the kitchen island innocently, whistling.

“and what are you planning on doing about this?” you shriek. you try to remain calm, really, but it’s hard to do so because gojo has an affinity for driving you to the brink of insanity.

“i will get someone to fix it, i promise!”

“and will they not be suspicious that there are marks in our floor?”

“a little bribery never hurt nobody, and i have a lot of money to bribe someone successfully. plus, i have connections in the jujutsu world!”

you drop the carpet, giving up. “i’m calling shoko to crash at hers for the night-”

“-then i’ll warp her house.”

“can you even do that? a couch is pretty impressive already.”

“so you think i’m impressive?”

“gojo.”

“i don’t know if i can teleport a house but i’m always willing to try.”

you hate him, you decide. “even if you could warp a house, you shouldn’t, because shoko will kick your ass.” 

“but you’ll protect me, won’t you?” 

you say nothing, merely glancing at your boyfriend before reaching for your phone in your pockets. however, before you could even unlock the device, gojo is beside you, crouched down to your level. he maintains a respectable distance, one that does not invade your personal space whilst fulfilling his need to be close to you. 

“are you actually leaving?” he whispers brokenly, completely changing the atmosphere as his eyes begin to shine with tears that threaten to spill. 

your words are lodged in your throat at the pitiful sight. whilst some part of your brain curses you for giving in so easily, the other part that loves gojo (who are you kidding, all of you loves him) begins to feel a little bad.

he continues, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers, “please don’t leave. i’m sorry for what i said when we were arguing. i love you,” he pauses for a second before adding as an afterthought: “a lot.” 

gojo’s apology, although a little awkward and rushed, is nothing short of endearing, successfully quelling the waves of frustration and anger you’ve been feeling for the past few hours. although the hurt has not completely faded, it’s a little less suffocating to be around him now.

his life is far from normal, you understand that, and you realised that it would be something you had to deal with when you started dating him in your last year at jujutsu tech. but you fell for gojo because of his sporadicity. life may have not been the same ever since, but in a world where all you are gifted is targets on your back in exchange for keeping lives safe, his love is a refreshing oasis for you to return to when all is said and done. 

even though he expresses it through unconventional ways, such as teleporting your couch because he was heartbroken at the prospect of being away from you, you think it’s a fair trade. 

as a way of accepting his apology, you open your arms for him and the white-haired doesn’t even let a second pass by before he’s crashing into you. 

it’s comforting, the way he holds onto you like you’ll slip from his grasp otherwise. “i’ll go get our couch back soon,” he mutters into you, squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“we’re having a moment, gojo, please don’t mention the couch or i’ll be angry again.”

“sorry,” the white-haired raises his head to look at you, “can i at least get nickname privileges back?”

“you’re ridiculous,” you huff, “no.”

[divinesolas]

sleepless nights

based on two requests; you can’t sleep and it seems neither can your husband. you find comfort within one another.

wrds; 546

a.n: just some fluff/minor angst to distract me from the pain of todays ep, 🫶

the ceiling was nice.

or maybe it was a couple minutes ago. hours ago? you had no clue how long you bad been up staring at it.

you missed luke. So much. your little brother. gone just like that. and you were so sick.

the door to your room opened but you dont even have the strength to look. with war at large you should be alert, especially with the attempt on your mothers life you should care. yet if someone has come to kill you you’ll let them because you cannot find it in yourself to care.

what you do notice however is the bed next to you sinking down and the warm heat, his smell. you turn your head, the first time youve moved in awhile you can feel the strain on your bones. a gentle hand runs on your cheek and you close your eyes at the warm. You can feel his breath on your skin, face to face though you cant bare to look at him, your eyes closed but you are more awake then ever.

“you were not at supper.”

you have barely left your bed today you certainly could not attend dinner.

“i am not hungry.”

“when was the last time you ate?”

you dont know. yesterday? a week ago? nothing mattered to you anymore.

your silence tells him everything he needs to know and he sighs, scooting closer to you and pulling you right against him. your head in his neck where you can feel his pulse. It gives you a sense of semblance a sense of life. He is alive.

“i miss him.” He knows exactly who youre talking about and his pulse races a shuttering breath leaves his lips. “i do too, so much.”

“its my fault.” you two say at the same time, pulling apart to look at each other. he is the first to speak, his guilt racing through his bones.

“how is this your fault? i was the one who had suggested we fly out the blame is on me alone-“

“i had swapped with him. i did not want to fly to see borros and i asked if i could take lady arryn. He agreed,” you find yourself struggling to speak as the tears flood into your eyes and your throat closes around you. “it would have been me. it should have been me.”

He grips your shoulders and looks you dead in the eyes, despite the gloss over them you can feel the fury. “never say such a thing. what would i do without you?” your eyes shut and shaky sobs escape your lips. His lips press against yours and your sobs cease. He pulls away and brushes your tears off your face.

“i suppose it does not matter whos fault it is. Because we have each other. and we will never lose each other. ever. when our mother ascends the throne we will take her place after her. and everyday we will live, for him.”

You nod. Hes right. You should not be wallowing in your grief it is not what he would have wanted. You allow him to lull you to sleep. It is the first time you’ve been able to sleep in days. You are at peace.

perm jace taglist <3 (open!)

@earth4angels @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme @damewritesalot

[delaber]

Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that. 

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

[millyhelp]

It all fell Down.

Jason todd x reader

warnings: mentions of death, blood, sad jason. read at your own risk. Angst shit.

Notes: I cried writing this. good luck. and yes, I wrote a super cute smut a few hours ago and now this puddle of sadness. Maybe I should continue?

please comment.

"Stay with me, stay with me..." Jason's fingers passed over your face affectionately. Thick tears of fear left his face.

You were bleeding. Your wound was deep, a bullet hit you.

It was supposed to be the perfect day. Your wedding. Your white dress was now red across the entire length of your chest. Jason's white suit blouse was in the same situation.

You lost blood quickly.

"It's okay." Your voice was weak and you coughed. The bullet hole had pierced one of your lungs, making blood fill it.

"There's nothing okay. Just stay with me, okay?" Jason sobbed and held you tightly against him. "Don't leave me..."

"I won't. I'm with you, right there." You placed your hand on Jason’s heart. His voice was low. Your lips were turning purple. "Jay..."

"Don't talk, save your breath. Look at me, please" Jason had never cried so much in his life. "Where's the fucking help?!"

Jason shouted, his voice broken by crying. The entire Batfamily was trying hard to control the chaos that was happening. No one had understood where the attacks came from.

"Jay..." You called him again. his eyes were heavy. You knew you couldn't take it anymore. "I love you..."

"Don't! Don't say that!" Jason shook his head. Childish sobs left his lips. "Don't do this with me!"

"Kiss me..." your blood-stained hand went towards Jason's face.

Jason would deny it. But he couldn't. Inside him he knew his end was coming. He was just being selfish.

His lips kissed you with tenderness and pain. Fear. afraid to lose you

Your lips were cold. A heavy sigh left your lips. Your heart stopped.

A scream of pain left Jason's lips.

"No! No! NO!" Heavy tears were left, loud sobs and screams. "DONT LEAVE ME! No..."

Jason shook your freezing body.

"Wake up! come on! wake up!" Jason caressed your face "My love, my princess. Come on, you have to wake up. Let's get married."

Jason went into a state of delirium. He wouldn't accept it. No. The only one who loves him the way he is, the only one who wasn't afraid of him. You were just sleeping.

"You chose such a beautiful dress for me, huh?" Jason's voice was broken. The tears didn't stop falling. "I can't wait to fill our house with kids. We want three, remember?"

Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Tim and Damian had managed to stop the attack. They did not identify who sent the shooters. But that didn't matter now.

A tear left Barbara's eyes when she saw Jason kneeling on the floor with you in his arms.

Dick, Tim and Damian knelt in respect.

Little Damian let a few small tears fall. Tears that no one thought he would ever drop.

Bruce walked over to his son. He placed a hand on Jason's shoulder.

"Jason..." Jason ignored him and continued talking to you.

"Come on love, wake up. I promised to take you to London! We have to catch the plane in a few hours!"

"Jason." Bruce spoke more firmly.

"You're going to love Paris! You told me it was your dream to see that big tower! My French is terrible, by the way!"

"Jason!" It was Barbara's turn to call him.

Jason looked at her. Barbara shook her head.

Jason didn't want to believe it yet. He ignored her.

"Jason! She died!" Damian's voice was loud and tearful. Broken.

"No... not for me..."

For Jason it was just a nightmare that for him, he would wake up like every other time. But this time, it wasn't a dream.

you were gone. you died.

and Jason can't save you.

[chrissdollie]

warnings/notes: suggestive, matt x tumblr writer reader, no smut (but there will be soon), unedited, incomplete, nicknames (baby, babe)

matt sighs, boredly scrolling through his phone while you are sound asleep next to him. your boyfriend uses his free hand to gently rub up and down your thigh. the morning sun tries to peak in through the dark curtains, but the room is still dull. comforting though. especially with the sounds of your soft snores, matthew couldn't be any more comfortable.

that is until a few minutes pass, and he decides to open an app called tumblr that he "jokingly" installed not too long ago. a small smug grin spreads onto his face as he searches up "matt sturniolo x y/n". many results come up, some sweet and fluffy-- and others disgustingly filthy. on camera, matt would completely disregard any "you should read smut" comments... but he can't help and listen to the inkling of interest inside him.

he finds a random blog where he scrolls down to the pinned introduction post to find where all of the fics may be. you sigh sleepily, matt's head immediately snapping to you with wide eyes. you reposition yourself slightly and fall back into your deep slumber. your boyfriend wouldn't want you to know about him reading dirt. especially if it's about him!

he looks back down at his bright phone, scanning the introduction post quickly. he pauses all of a sudden. "yn?" he thinks to himself, his eyebrows pinching. but they quickly rest again, there's no way you, his sweet little angel baby writes nasty smut. and plus, plenty of people can have the same name as you.. right?

he taps on a link that says "about me" which brings him to a cutely decorated page. it's very girly-- definitely reminds him of his unaware girlfriend sleeping right next to him. he reads through the bullet points that include: your age, where you live and where you're from, and a list of things you love! this has to be you. not to mention, your profile picture is your favorite photo of him. he'd know, the physical picture is in a cute frame right next to your side of the bed.

he doesn't feel too embarrassed about wanting to read imaginary sex scenes anymore. matter of fact, he feels like a saint compared to you, who actually writes them! he finds your "masterlist" and it's an entire page just about him. he taps on the first link that reads "daddy's home".

in the years he's known you, including the HOURS of time you two spent having fun in the bedroom, he would've never expected to see kinks like these! by now, he's already gone through most of your fanfictions under the category of "smut". so far he's read drabbles of daddy/breeding kinks, bondage, roleplay, age gaps, sub!matt (this got him feeling a little tingly), and more. he wears a smug smirk on his face as your pretty eyes blink open.

"hi babyy.." he coos sweetly as if he hadn't read your dirty thoughts for almost an hour. he brings you into a warm snuggle, his hand caresses the back of your head while you yawn into his bare chest. "sleep good?" matt asks in his raspy morning voice. "mhm.." you sigh, holding onto him like a koala. the smug shit-eating grin is back on his face when he randomly says, "i found your tumblr."

your body tenses. oh shit. you've been caught. there are two things you can do here: play dumb or ask him if he liked what he saw. you lift your head to look up at your boyfriend. comfortingly, he looks amused. before you can speak however, he reminds you of what you've written. "yeah i read all of your kinky shit. i didn't think you'd be into some of the stuff i saw there, babe."

you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you gently bite down on your lip, bravely staring into your lust-filled boyfriend's eyes. you seductively lean up so your mouth is only an inch away from his. "so what're you gonna do about it?"

THERE WILL BE SMUT TRUST BUT THIS IS ALL IM GIVING FOR NOWWW!! UH NOT PROOFREAD LIKE ALWAYS XX

[4ngels0uls]

My enemy - Matt sturniolo

Dont like? Don’t read.

Summary: Matt sturniolo and y/n have hate each other for basically forever. Nick and Chris hate their bickering, they think y/n and Matt should just date. Y/n and Matt think that’s disgusting till….

Paring: fem!reader + dom!Matt

Warnings: use of y/n, SMUT, cursing, fingering, blowjob, handjob, p in v, a little dirty talk, rough sex, pet names kinda (like.. good girl, and I don’t know SO LOOK FOR YOURSELF.)

A/N: I broke my fucken phone like 2 weeks ago and just got it fixed yesterday 🙈

————————————————————

Y/ns pov

I’m sleeping over at the triplets house today, cause…..why not? I miss Chris and nick. Definitely not Matt. He’s a total asshole to me, but all sweet and charming in their YouTube videos. Pathetic. I open my phone and text nick. “Hey can I come for a little sleep over today?” I text. Almost immediately I get a text back. “Yeah sure. Just don’t be so fucking annoying with Matt.” He texts with an attitude. I think he’s pissed off.. I text back. “okay, I’ll be there in an hour.” I text. All I get is to be left on opened. Alright…

I grab all my shit for a sleepover. I get in my car and drive to their house. I get to their house but I’m not a fuck ass person to just walk in so I knock. Guess who opens the door. Matthew fucking sturniolo. “great.” He says. Asshole. He walks upstairs just leaving the door open for me to come in. I walk inside and take my shoes off and go and put all my shit in nicks room.

I walk into nicks room. Nobody.. what the fuck? I question. I put all my shit down and walk over to the couch where Matt is sitting. “where’s nick and Chris?” I ask. He looks up at me and sighs. “They’re out getting a bunch of shit for the store for a YouTube video.” he answers. “How long have they been gone?” I ask, considering nicks phone is right by Matt. “Like 2 hours, an hour ago?” He tells. huh? I texted nick 30 minutes ago and they have been gone for apparently 2 hours? Weird.

I sit on the couch, about 2 cushions away from him. “what the fuck are you watching?” I ask while confused. “Some random ass documentary, I’m not even watching it. What’s with all the questions?” He asks with an attitude. “I was just asking.” I tell. He gives me and weird look then goes back to his phone. I lay down and curl into a ball on the couch.

He glares at me and looks at me confused. “Why are you laying like that?” He asks me. “I don’t know, I’m comfortable..”I answer. He gives me a shrug and goes back to his phone. I pull my phone out of my pocket and go on it. I go thru my camera roll and find a sex tape of me for a while back, with my 2nd ever boyfriend. I forget my phone is on full volume. I click on the video and it blasts moans, the sound of me and his body’s slapping together.

My eyes go wide and I turn my phone off and Matt looks at me with wide eyes. “what the fuck were you watching…?” He questions. “nothing…” I say out of embarrassment.

End of y/ns pov

————————————————————

Matt’s pov

I hear y/ns phone blasting a sex tape of… sounds like her…? “what the fuck were you watching…?” I ask her. “Nothing.” She says almost immediately with a hint of embarrassment in her voice. We go quiet for a while, while I have a big ass tint in my pants from my dick… it’s bad from the last couple times this has happened. I let out a slight groan for only me to be able to hear.

God this fucking hurts. But I can do it here or get up cause she’ll think I’m fucking disgusting. Which it is…. She rolls over and looks down and sees my bulge thru my pants…

End of Matt’s pov

————————————————————

Y/ns pov

I look down at Matt’s pants and see he has the biggest boner ever.. “fuck… I’m sorry y/n. Im really fucking sorr-“ I shut him up by smashing my lips into his. I climb onto his lap, feeling his boner on my legs. He pulls away. “Please y/n..” he groans out. I know exactly what he wants. “Please what?” I tease him. “Use your mouth or anything..” he continues. I get off him and get on my knees in front of him.

I undo his belt and slide his pants down along with his underwear. His dick springs out, slapping his stomach. I grab his dick and kitty lick his tip. He groans to the feeling. I go down and start bobbing my head. He’s a moaning mess at this point. “F-fuck y/n..” he groans out. I let out a little groan to him moaning my name, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

“P-please..” he begs me for more. I look up at him and smirk. He makes a makeshift ponytail with his hands for my hair. Matt pushes my head down a bit, making me gag a little. “Oh fuck y/n..” he groans again. I start pushing my head a bit more down, making me gag more.

“Fuck! I’m going to cum!…” he moans but also yells out. I bob my head on e last time and he shoots his warm load down my throat. “g-good girl…” he whimpers. I smile at the nickname. He grabs me and picks me up and walks to his room to continue. He lays me down on his bed and closes and locks the door even though no one’s home.

He crawls up towards me. He hovers above me. He kisses me all around my neck. I lift my head up for him to be able to kiss my neck more. He kisses all over till he finds my sweet spot. He sucks and licks my pure skin. He leaves a big purple hickey that’s very noticeable. No one will know.. right? He slides his fingers down to my aching core. Sliding my pants down along with my underwear. He starts pulling my shirt up revealing my purple lace bra. He smirks when he sees my bra. “Cute bra…” he smiles. I blush from his compliment. He slides his fingers along my curves.

He gets down to my core, slowly rubbing my clit. I let out a very soft moan. I kiss his soft lips as he fingers my core. He shoves his two fingers, the middle and ring, right into my core, I let out a moan making him groan. I kiss him deeply as he kisses me back.

He pumps his fingers in and out of me making me whimper every time he pumps his fingers. F-fuck Matt…” I moan. I bury my face into his neck. He pumps fingers in and out of me faster making me and whimpering and moaning mess.

“Sh-shittt” I moan. “M’ close!” I yell out. He pumps his fingers about three more times, hitting my g spot each time. “Fuck! Please! Matt!” I scream out. I release all over his two fingers. He pulls out his fingers. He licks off all of my release off his fingers. “mm you taste good.” He tells me while smirking.

He gets on top of me again. He kisses me on my neck. “All fours, ass up.” Matt says with a controlling tone. “Hmugh please…” I moan out. He lines himself up between my wet folds. “P-please don’t tease Matt.” I whimper out. “Be patient.” He tells. I nod my head and he slides him self in. I let out a moan as he burys his length into my core.

“so tight.” He whispers out. He thrusts his hips at a fast pace, his hips smacking into mine making an echo in the room. “Fuck…” he groans. “Mhughm fuck! Matt!” I moan loudly. He groans from me moaning his name. He pounds into me like theirs no tomorrow. I make a little noise every time his skin slaps mine. “are my good girl!?” He yells out at me. “Y-yes!” I yell back. He shoves himself deeper. I moan louder, my eyes going to the back of my head. He smacks my ass, making an echo sound around the room. I bury my face into the pillow. F-fuck..y/n.” he groans softly.

He pounds me till I yell out “fuck I need… fuck! I need to cum!” I yell out. “just wait.” He dominants. “W-what?..” i whimper. “just wait.” He says. He pounds me a couple for times till the point where now I’m feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated. “M-Matt please!” I yell. “be a good girl and cum all on my dick.”

He finally tells me. I feel the knot snap in my stomach. I release all over his dick. I feel his dick twitch inside of me. “F-fuckk!!..y/n!” He moans loudly. Digging his nails into my hips while shooting his hot load into my cunt. Painting my spongey walls white.

He pulls out and claps beside me. “damn.. didn’t think you were that good.” He tells. “Me either..” I agree with him. We hear the front door open and hear yelling. “Matt! Wer- what the..? Y/n!?” Chris yells from the front door. I look at Matt. He looks back at me. He starts getting up but kisses my lips. He finishes putting his clothes on. He winks and leaves and closes the door behind him. I just had sex with my enemy.

————————————————————

IM DYING.

idk I’m bored now🙂

NOW I HAVE TO GO WRITE MORE😔

BYE.

[itsthewritergal]

One Week - B.Barnes x reader

PART 1

PART 3

Here is part two my loves, there will be a final 3rd part,

TW: suicide, death, character death, breakup, general sadness, suicide notes, swearing.

(also I won't be making a taglist for the next part so please turn notifs on so you don't miss it!)

Bucky couldn’t watch, he had resulted to cleaning the blood from between the joints on his metal hand. The quinjet hummed slowly, providing little comfort to Bucky’s swirling thoughts.  Steve and Wanda were talking quietly, not quietly enough for Bucky’s liking. 

“Did you read yours?” Steve asked, gesturing to the letter that Wanda had clutched in her hand 

“No, I won’t. She wrote it for me to read when she wasn’t here. She is here. I don’t need to read it” Wanda said sadly, her letter was still sealed in the envelope with her name neatly swirled on the front. Her eyes fell on Y/N’s sleeping frame, Tony had taken the decision to sedate her, she had refused to be taken out of the cell, still clutching desperately to the hope of death. They had all tried their hardest to level with her, but nothing worked, everyone had tried their best, everyone except Bucky. He couldn’t find a single word to say to her as she was desperately asking everyone to kill her. 

“We will be landing at the compound in ten minutes” Tony said to nobody in particular but everyone stopped and listened 

“I think we should take her to a hospital” Nat said calmly, she was too calm for Bucky’s liking. He couldn’t understand how she wasn’t tearing herself apart for letting Y/N get to this state. 

“She needs to be at home” Tony said firmly 

“The compound isn’t her home” Nat answered curtly 

“It used to be” Wanda mused, thinking of the days that Y/N had spent wandering around the compound as she watched Bucky training, or cooking together, it used to be her home. 

“It isn’t now” Clint agreed with Nat, “A few months ago I would have said the same Tony, but now, well now she needs to be at a hospital. She needs to be given the choice to come back with us” 

“Cap?” Tony asked, 

“I agree” Steve said, 

“So do I” Sam added, 

Bucky stayed silent.

“Fine, I’ll reroute to the hospital” Tony said with a sigh. 

“Mr Stark, Dr Cho told me you were on your way, I’m Doctor Simmonds, I’ll be treating Y/N today,” A doctor said meeting Tony at the entrance door to the Quinjet, 

“You need to treat this girl as though she’s one of ours, understand?” Tony said firmly, 

“I understand” He said simply following a few nurses as they placed Y/N onto a stretcher and carried her into the hospital, “Can you tell me the extent of her injuries?” He asked 

“We haven’t examined her” Nat interrupted, “She was held for around 23 hours, we are unsure of what happened.” 

“I understand, now if you could all wait outside. I’m going to examine her and let you know what I’ve found” He said as he disappeared behind a closed door that Y/N was lying behind. 

“We should have gone in with her” Steve said, 

“He needs to do his job, and we need to wait” Wanda softly said, there was a nervous edge to her words, Bucky picked up on it. 

“Coffee anyone?” Nat suggested, a few nodded, “Bucky come help me” She said 

“You can handle it” Bucky said his gaze still on the floor 

“Now Bucky” Nat left no room for argument and Bucky followed her silently through the halls. “You need to tell me what happened” She said firmly 

“I don’t know what you mean” Bucky replied 

“When you broke up, what the hell happened?” Nat said, her eyes flaming with something Bucky didn’t want to deal with 

“We broke up” he said bluntly “There isn’t anything else to say” 

“You’ve been seeing other people whilst she’s been planning her suicide” She whispered fiercely, “What the hell did you do to her?”  It was one of the only times Bucky had seen Nat loose her cool in such a dramatic way, 

“Nothing happened” He reiterated simply 

“Don’t be that guy” nat snapped, “Five coffee’s please, black, double shot in all of them” She said to the girl stood starstruck behind the counter 

“Look, nothing happened” Bucky said “We split” 

“Who made the decision?” 

“I did” he replied, his eyes fixating on his boots once more, 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t work together, do you need a full rundown on my life?” He snapped louder than he wanted, 

“Just on your breakup” Nat replied quickly, “Why didn’t you work?” 

“I couldn’t do it, she was too much.” He didn’t mean it, he didn’t know how he could explain it in any other way to Nat 

“Too much how?” 

“Here you are” the girl behind the counter placed the coffees down, Nat muttered a thank you. 

“I like my life, I like being alone. I enjoy coming home alone. I don’t need anyone else in my life to look after,” He snapped, 

“You’re not telling the truth” Nat whispered “You forget, I used to be the best interrogator that SHIELD had ever seen. I see through you Bucky, and whatever you did to hurt that girl—”

“I told her I didn’t love her,” he whispered “I told her she was too much for me. Told her that she was naive and young and stupid.  I said that I didn’t want to deal with her or look after her or have to love her” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because I was scared, she is good. She is innocent, and kind, and gentle, and she kissed me as if I was good too. I’m not. So I ended things, and I said things that I won’t ever repeat because the words already haunt me enough” he sighed “I dated those girls after her because they weren’t good people, or nice people, I suited them better, there wasn’t anything to ruin. With Y/N, I was killing her slowly and she didn’t even know it” Bucky said, his chest heaving once he finished , 

“Bucky” Nat started, 

“I needed her to hate me” He said softly, 

“You failed” Tony said from behind him, “I came to help get the coffee” He explained once Nat gave him a confused look “She doesn’t hate you, she hates herself. I dread to think what she’s been thinking of herself the past few months because of you” 

“Tony enough” Nat stopped him 

“Y/N is lying in a hospital bed sedated because he was a coward” Tony snapped, “When she wakes up, you best hope that she forgives you, because if there’s a shred of anything other than forgiveness in her words I will kill you” He said turning and walking away. His words were calm, and collected, Bucky knew he was sincere. It should have scared him, but it didn’t. 

“Mr Stark?” Dr Simmonds asked coming out of Y/N’s room, 

“How is she?” Tony stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chair, 

“We need to admit her to an inpatient facility” His voice made Bucky’s blood run cold, “In order to do this I need a signature from her next of kin” he continued to explain, “I reached out to her sister, who is on file as her next of kin, except it seems that she passed away a few months back and I need to know if there are any other living relatives for me to contact for permission” The room went silent, 

“Her sister died?” Wanda parroted 

“According to our records around ten months ago” Dr Simmonds said, 

“She doesn’t have any other family, her parents died when she was little and her sister was all she had left” Bucky said stoically 

“This isn’t the answer you’re going to want to hear but without a next of kin I can’t admit her” Dr Simmonds explained softly 

“We can look after her at the compound” Tony said, 

“Tony, we can’t make a decision like that without talking to her” Steve cut in. 

“I agree with the Captain, Mr Stark. She’s still drowsy from the sedation but uprooting her in the state she’s in isn’t a good idea” 

“What state is she in?” Nat asked 

“She’s malnourished, dehydrated, exhausted. Nothing physically wrong apart from a few minor lacerations and bruising, but she’s not been taking care of herself. If you hadn’t told me she’d only been taken for 24 hours I’d have guessed it would have been at least 3 months” He explained 

“She’s depressed” Tony muttered softly 

“Without talking to her at length I can’t make that diagnosis, she’s clearly grieving her sister. Amongst other things but I don’t know what those are yet. I’ve asked for psych to come and give her a full examination just so we know what we are dealing with. But without a next of kin, my hands are tied” 

“What about an old next of kin?” Bucky asked slowly, 

“Y/N would have to sign off on it, are you a past next of kin for her?” The Dr asked, eyeing Bucky with a look of distain, the pieces clicking into place slowly. Bucky nodded, “I’d have to check with the board” The Dr explained. 

“Can we see her?” Wanda asked changing the subject quickly. 

“I will ask her, but I’m not promising anything” Dr Simmonds said with a nod, retuning back behind the closed door.  

The next few minutes were painful, nobody dared to sit down in case Y/N asked to see them. Bucky could hear muffled voices behind the door and it killed him that Y/N was so close but he couldn’t reach her, he wouldn’t dare to reach her in case of anything making her worse. 

“Mr Stark” Dr Simmonds said stepping out the room, “She has agreed to see you” 

Tony didn’t say a word and instead followed the doctor through the door and into the room. Y/N was sat in bed, restraints lay idle on the bed, untied, Tony’s eyes went straight to them. 

“They took them off about an hour ago” She said quietly, knowing what Tony was thinking. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked carefully sitting in a plastic chair that had been placed at her bedside, 

“I’m sorry” She said, calmly. 

“None of that” Tony said firmly, patting her hand comfortingly 

“I didn’t want anyone to know, I just needed it to be over” She said “And then they came and it seemed like the best way out. I’m sorry I put you through all that” 

“You don’t need to apologise,” Tony said “Let me help you, please?” 

“I’ve spoken to the doctor, lots of doctors and I’m okay. Really. I’m okay” She promised sincerely

“They want to admit you” Tony said slowly, watching as Y/N’s face fell, 

“They said”

“They can’t though, because of your next of kin. They need a signature and it—”

“She’s dead” Y/N bluntly whispered  

“I would like for you to come and live at the compound for the next few weeks, just until you get back on your feet” He said softly 

“I won’t put you or anyone else through that” 

“You mean Bucky” Tony said, he knew it was risky to bring him up but he needed to know how best to help Y/N. 

Y/N’s eyes glazed over sadly, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. 

“This isn’t his fault. Believe it or not the breakup was actually probably the least bad thing that happened this year” She said with a half hearted chuckle, 

“I’m sorry, I should have been there for you” Tony said, “everyone is here to help. Just let us look after you for a week. That’s all” 

“I promise I’m okay” 

“I know you are, I need to do this for me, let me help” Tony said, it was a lie. He needed to know that Y/N was somewhere safe and once she was there for a week he could convince her to stay longer, he was sure of it. 

“One week” 

“One week” Tony nodded. 

Tony had instructed Wanda, Bucky and Steve to set up a room for Y/N whilst he filled out some paperwork for Y/N. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked Bucky as they walked through the empty compound, towards one of the guest rooms, 

“I don’t think you should be asking me that” Bucky kept his eyes trained on the ground. His shoulders hunched, 

“This is as hard on you as it is on her” Wanda said 

“It’s not, I never tried to end my life. I made her do that. It was my words that forced her into that position” Bucky said, his filter had gone, he was bleeding raw emotions onto the floor of the compound and he couldn’t stop. 

“That wasn’t your fault, you can’t stay with someone just in case they get depressed when you leave. That’s basically blackmail” Steve said 

“She didn’t deserve this. I promised her I’d be with her for the rest of her life. I swore she’d never be alone again and then I left. I’m no better than anyone else in her life” 

“She doesn’t hate you” Wanda said, 

“What?” Bucky asked, 

“I read the letter, I didn’t think I was going to but I couldn’t stop myself” Wanda said pulling it out of her pocket “but she told me that it wasn’t your fault” 

“Stop” Bucky said, 

“Bucky she didn’t do it because of you” Wanda said 

“She needs some plants in here” Bucky said firmly as they opened up the door to Y/N’s new room, 

“Buck” Steve started 

“And her fairy lights, on the ceiling, she likes them to look like stars” Bucky continued. “We don’t have very long, we need to get started”

taglist

 @cookingdancingchick @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @olipiaa @scifinerd1818 @ordelixx @differenttyphoonwerewolf @unaxv @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @classyunknownlover @julvrs@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @pigeonmama @sassyqueencowboy @callmissrogers @wintrsoldrluvr @weallhaveadestiny

[blueeyedgirll]

shark week surprise - spencer reid x f!reader

spencer reid x f!reader on her period

this fic includes: fluff, descriptions of bad periods and period paraphernalia, spencer being a sweetie pie and doting on you, established relationship, non-bau reader, pet names, early seasons spencer, use of midol, no use of y/n, unrealistic depiction of spencer's job, reader being shorter than spencer

word count: 1,053

a/n: you'll never guess what time of the month it is for me ;) im testing out using gifs on my fics so tell me what you think my lovely returning readers!

"It hurts," you say into your phone.

"I know it does, honey. I'm sorry. I'm sure a heating pad and some medicine can help with your cramps," Spencer responds sympathetically, recalling all of the period remedies he had learned.

"I took some Midol about an hour ago and I have the heating pad on right now. It's not helping much."

"Hmm..." Spencer pauses for a moment. "I've read that light exercise and hot tea or water can help. Are you feeling well enough to talk to the kitchen and make some tea? I think there's still some of the chamomile and honey tea I bought you in the pantry, and the walking might help."

"I should be alright. Will you stay on the phone with me?" you plead.

"Of course I will. Luckily, I'm in my hotel room for the night, so I have as much time as you need."

"Thank you, Spence."

"You're welcome, love."

You hobble to your kitchen, phone in hand, and start to make yourself a cup of chamomile tea.

The few minutes it took for the kettle to boil felt excruciatingly long, but having Spencer on the phone to distract you helped.

"I was reading an article about Spanish idioms, and I saw one I thought you would like," Spencer prompts.

"Yeah? What's that?" You say, leaning against your kitchen counter.

"Well, it literally means 'Thinking about the immortality of the crab,' but it's a way to say that instead of just sitting idly, you were engaged in active thought or daydreaming. Kind of like saying you're just letting your mind wander," Spencer says, his voice growing more excited as he elaborates.

"I think about the immortality of the crab a lot, then," You joke.

"I know. That's why I thought you would like it."

You scoff and bring your now finished cup of tea back into your bedroom, where you had been hibernating amidst every fuzzy blanket you could find.

You pull the heating pad back over your lap and get as cozy as you can with your hellish cramps. As nice as your bedspread may be, however, you know that you would be a lot more comfortable with Spencer cuddled up next to you.

"When are you gonna be back home, Spencer?" You ask.

"Well, we haven't gotten very many good leads, so we're a little stuck right now. It might be a few more days. I'm sorry, honey," He responds apologetically.

"Oh... That's okay. I get it."

You did get it. It wasn't uncommon for Spencer to be gone for days, sometimes a few weeks at a time. But the searing pain and high estrogen levels just made you want him near you even more.

"I'm sorry. You know I would so much rather be taking care of you right now," Spencer follows.

"Ain't no rest for the wicked."

"Exactly." Spencer pauses for a moment, lets out a sigh, and shuffles around in his room. "You should get some rest. You may feel better tomorrow as your hormones decrease."

"I know. I love you, Spence."

"I love you too, darling. I'll see you soon. Hang in there."

"I will. Bye."

You hang up the phone and sigh dramatically. It was only Friday night, and without work to prepare for or Spencer to spend time with, you were forced to entertain yourself for the weekend.

You start by putting on an older show to rewatch, but don't make it through much before you fall into an uncomfortable sleep.

You wake up the next morning to your phone ringing. Rubbing your dry eyes, you pick up your phone and see Spencer's contact flash across your screen. You pick up, clearing your throat before you speak.

"Morning, love."

"It's eleven AM, darling. But good morning to you, too," Spencer responds. In the background of the call, you hear what sounds like a turn signal.

"Whatever. Where are you?"

"I'm in the car," He says uninformatively.

"Okay, then where are you heading?"

"To my destination."

What a turd. You groan in exasperation.

"If it makes you feel better, I have something for you,' Spencer tells you.

"Like what?"

"It should be arriving just about now, actually."

"What do you mean?" You question.

Before you could ask him anything else, you hear a knock at your door.

"Hang on, Spence. Someone's at the door," You say, placing your eye to the peephole.

To your great surprise, you see a tiny image of Spencer smiling outside your door with his phone up to his ear. You fling the door open and affirm that he is, in fact, at your door.

"Spencer!" You exclaim. He greets you as he throws his arms around you, lightly squishing you against his chest.

"I thought you weren't gonna be home for a few more days. What changed?" You ask, pulling away from his embrace to look up into his sweet brown eyes.

"The unsub basically turned himself in, so we all got to go home early. I would have came here earlier, but I had to make a stop," He says, gesturing to his right hand.

You look down to see a shopping bag. He smiles and walks into your living room, urging you to follow.

He slowly unpacks the bag, announcing every item as it appears.

"An array of candy -- fruit flavored as well as chocolate --, electrolyte drinks to keep you hydrated, a new bottle of Midol to help with the pain, and..." Out of a separate bag you hadn't noticed before, he pulls out a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Flowers because I thought you would like them."

He hands you the flowers and you smile up at him before enclosing him in another hug.

"Thank you, Spencer. You're so sweet."

"I'm just trying to make you feel better," He says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

"You're doing great."

He smiles into your hair before pulling away.

"What do you want to do? We can watch movies in bed, I can draw you a bath, we can go for a walk..." He trails off, looking to your for an answer.

"Let's go watch movies. We can find that new one we wanted to watch."

"Sounds good to me, love," He says, following you into the bedroom, snacks in hand.

[gtgbabie0]

A cold heart

{After distancing yourself from Cregan the truth finally comes out}

Hope you enjoy as always lovelies! 💕

CW// reader is pregnant

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Cregan grew up in the North, he became acclimatised to the cold weather as he grew, but yet he’s never felt so cold then he does right now in your shared bedchambers, despite the warmth of the fire. It’s a type of feeling that completely renders him numb. An aching feeling that sits heavy against his chest, it’s almost as if he can’t breathe.

He watches you climb into bed slipping underneath the many furs. His heart freezes as the realisation slowly sets in, he’s in for another night of silence, and like every other night for the past few weeks you’ll sleep as far away as possible, shrugging off his touch.

It's not that you didn't want him to touch you, quite the opposite actually. You just couldn't risk his wandering hands grazing against your tiny bump, you wouldn't let him find out, not that way.

He doesn’t think he can go another night of isolation. So he reaches out to you in hopes you’ll reopen your caged heart to him once again, just as you did all those moons ago when he confessed his feelings to you.

“Love, will you please tell me what’s bothering you? I can’t stand this silence” he says, a gentle hand against your shoulder and he winces when he feels you go rigid under his palm.

He retreats his hand not wanting to be the cause of your discomfort. You don’t look at him, far too afraid of the pain that will stain his face.

It’s not that you don’t want to tell him, in all honesty, you so desperately wanted to share the news, but you’ve heard so my awful stories from other ladies about their husbands seeking pleasure through other means, how they are completely abandoned by them simply because they were ‘undesirable’ it hurt to hear. You couldn’t imagine going through that.

So maybe that’s why you push Cregan away, because if you do it first it’ll hurt less when does inevitably happen.

“Nothing is wrong Cregan, I’m tired,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself in search of comfort.

He likes to think that he is a calm man, never quick to anger but right now in this moment, anger is quick to warm his heart.

“Do not lie to me” he says, tone firm. You have only ever heard that when some lord made the mistake of insulting you in front of him, you remember thinking how you never wanted to be on the receiving end of that, yet here you are.

You sigh, biting back the tears that sting the back of your throat. “I just want to sleep Cregan” you whisper and he doesn’t miss the way your voice quivers.

You hear him let out a deep breath, then the bed shifts and he’s getting ready. The sudden change in the atmosphere makes you sit up, bringing the furs up with you, protecting yourself from the bitter cold.

“Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he laces up his boots, his eyes flicker to yours for a moment but they don’t linger long.

“I have work to do. Don’t wait up for me” he tells you and before you even have time to try and even think of what to say he’s gone.

You don’t bother stopping the tears that fall so effortlessly from your eyes. A regretful sob broke through your lips as you feel yourself engulfed by unwavering guilt, the type that pinches at your heart leaving bruises in its wake.

You can’t find solace in sleep, not without Cregan beside you. So you wait, and wait a book in your lap but you pay it no mind as your eyes stay fixed on the door.

You questioned whether or not he had already found another woman. Filthy thoughts tainting your mind, and you know it’s silly. Cregan would never break your trust or heart like that, never.

The hours seem to drag, and you contemplate if you should go out and find him yourself to say your sorries and give him a well-earned explanation, but the Maesters told you rest is the best thing for the babe.

Then the heavy wooden door opens, and there he is. “I told you not to wait up,” he says, and you watch him intently as he takes off his furs and leather.

You want to speak but you haven’t the slightest idea of where to even begin, there are so many words that rattle around in your brain but none of them seem good enough.

He looks over at you, and if it weren’t for the anger that still tingles his skin he would’ve felt sorry for the way you seemed to go in on yourself.

“Have I done something? Offended you somehow?— hurt you?” He wonders, wincing at the way his voice trembles, and the sound brings tears to your eyes.

You shake your head, trying to string a sentence together but the only thing that comes out is a pitiful sob. Emotions collide in your chest.

“Then what is it y/n? Why are you treating me as if I’m a stranger?” He asks, sitting at the end of the bed.

You study the scars that litter his chest, the one that travels across his ribcage that you love to you trace with gentle fingers, and you yearn to be held by him once again.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, your hand splayed against your collarbones. You can’t stop the cries that escape you. You shuffle down to where he’s sitting, a careful hand against his shoulder. “I’m sorry Cregan- I can explain” you gasp.

His slightly calloused hand soothes the expanse of your back, he hates seeing you so upset. The painful expression that paints your face, how your eyebrows furrow together. He promised himself that he’d do anything in his power to prevent this.

He wants to be mad, but he can't not when your shoulders shake as you try to stifle your cries behind a shaky hand.

“Love, breathe,” he says, taking your hand in his as he guides you through deep breaths. He’s always been so good at that.

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently and you sigh at the feeling of his beard against your skin.

“Cregan, I-” you look up at him as he urges you to continue, worry laced through his eyes, “I am with child” you whisper, your eyes flickering down to where your hands lay against his lap entwined with his own.

“The ladies have said- told stories of how their bodies change, how they no longer look the same as before- their husbands, they-” you sob, not being able to finish the sentence, a desperate need to get him to understand. And he does, he knows what you’re trying to say, and it hurts him beyond words that you would ever even consider the possibility.

His hands gently cup your tearful face, and he gives you the most endearing look he could muster. “My precious wife” he starts, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “You are the light of my life, my heart is yours entirely,” he tells you, a sense of relief washing over him as you fling yourself into his arms.

It was silly of you to doubt his love, especially for you. “I know- I’m sorry,” you tell him, kissing his shoulder.

“How long have you known?” He asks, his hands grasping at your hips.

“I had a suspicion for a while” you confess, bringing his hands to your belly. You let out a breathy giggle at the way his eyes light up with excitement as his hand soothe the expanse of your stomach.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips before wiping away the stray tears that fall from your lashes, “A pup of our own eh?” He says, a teasing look flashing through his eyes as he urges you to lay against the pillows.

His hand dips underneath your nightdress grazing along your thigh travelling to rest at the curve of your stomach, your bump was barely there but yet he knows the difference. He smiles at you softly, enjoying the way your breath hitches at his touch.

“I promise I’ll take such good care of you, and our little one” he says, love bleeding into his tone as he peppers your neck with kisses. Your fingers thread through his hair as you urge him closer to you, you had missed him more than you thought.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.16. "LET ME HOLD ONTO YOU, PLEASE"

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . count contessa by azealia banks & lone

he’s barely seen her in the past few days. he’s not complaining. in fact, he’s being rather dramatic putting it like that. she’s been coming home every day around 10 at night, trying to muffle the loud sighs she’ll let out as she closes the door behind her. she’ll shuffle around, clean herself up, and then always ends up falling onto his bed, where he’s already lying, switch in hands.

“you should come up here,” he always says, because half of her body is currently hanging off the very end of the mattress.

she’ll then whine at him, saying something about how much effort it is to move another inch so he’ll put down his switch and help her clamber up to lay next to him. while she’s tucked in under his comforter, he’s slouched against the wall behind him, not quite lying down nor sitting up. she wants to be close to him and that’s not a problem; he’ll put an arm around her, resting it on her shoulder so that she’s hugged close while he can keep playing his switch. or, he’ll decide it’s time to sleep as well and run a hand through her hair until they’ve both fallen asleep.

however, that all happens in around two hours at the very end of the day, and other than that, he doesn’t get to see her. he’s gotten used to her convoluted directions (“take a left, then a right, then another right, oh and that right is actually down a pretty long hallway, keep going straight, take a left, then you’ll see a really narrow hallway, it looks a little sketchy but go through it…”) leading him around buildings and past security so that he can visit her in the middle of the day while other events are going on but it’s never for long.

the point is, he misses her. a lot. but today is her day. yesterday was the short program, they’d ended in second place. she’d come home that day with anxiety eating away at her. she'd closed the door softly behind her, wandered down the hall, seen him, and then immediately started shaking. they had sat on the couch for at least an hour, him holding her hands tightly, telling her to focus on the pressure he was pressing into them and breathing with her. it was all sobs and cracked whispers of how worried she was of disappointing people, how worried she was about the twist.

he couldn’t pretend he knew how difficult the twist was, or that he knew what to say. he knew not to say it would be alright. he knew it was their most difficult move; she always came home with a bright smile on her face whenever practicing the move had gone well. and then two days ago it hadn’t. atsumu had dropped her and it hadn’t been a big confidence booster for either of them. getting second place was only more of a detriment. he didn’t say anything about it, because he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. he didn’t know enough to say anything about their twist, but he knew what second place felt like.

he knew from volleyball tournaments how much it hurt to almost be there. to win game after game, ignoring thoughts of failure no matter how anxious or humble a person might be, because they needed to focus on moving forward. he knew what it was like to be on a team, to worry about holding others back, and he knew what it felt like to stand there on a silent stage after performing a sport in front of thousands of people and be almost good enough, but not good enough.

that night he had wiped away her tears and kissed her, saying, “focus on tomorrow, not what others will think, not what’s already happened. it doesn't matter what other people think, and you can only control yourself. tomorrow will be great. you and miya will be great, and i’ll be there for you no matter what happens.”

she’d given him the biggest pout ever at his words, looking up at him with glassy eyes, “can i have that good luck kiss now, then?”

“anything you want,” he’d responded, kissing her and muffling her huff of laughter.

“you can’t ask me to kiss you and then laugh in my face,” he had said when he pulled away, staying close enough that their noses bumped into each other.

she’d continued laughing before trying to answer him, “i’m sorry, i’m not laughing at you." she stopped when he wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her eyes, "i was just thinking about how crazy it must have been for me to come home and then immediately start hyperventilating and ranting to you and then turn around and ask for a kiss.”

“i told you not to worry about things like that, i’ll love you no matter what. i've just been worried. nothing else,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. 

her hands reached up to run through his hair, holding the sides of his head, “i love you, kenma. thank you for listening. i'll need another kiss tomorrow if I'm gonna do this.”

“i’ll give you as many as you want,” he’d replied.

now he was standing right by the edge of the ice rink. y/n and ukai had both pulled strings and forced him into a seat up close to the rink, right next to her coach. he wasn’t sure how to feel, sitting there feeling like an uneducated commoner amongst famous people who actually knew the name of every trick going on, but he stayed there for her. when she came out onto the ice, her eyes scanned the crowd, immediately finding him and blowing a kiss towards him.

he smiled back, eyes flicking up to the screen hanging above in the middle of the rink, displaying atsumu and her skating towards the center of the rink, hand in hand. the applause that erupted at their entrance only served to make his heart beat faster. he’d given her an entire speech about remaining calm yesterday and today, but he felt like he was about to throw up. he’d witnessed a skating pair fall just before their performance and he and ukai had both simultaneously sat down, hands in their heads and eyes burning like they were on the verge of tears.

he tried to clap along with the crowd, trying not to overthink how big of a crowd was forming in this stadium. he knew atsumu and y/n had been popular, but not even the cold mist from the ice rink could help him regulate his temperature or panic.

and if he felt this way, he couldn’t imagine how she felt. she and atsumu were both in each other arms, and he could see the way both of their shoulders rose before falling together, trying to calm each other down. he had been better about overthinking them being so close to each other now. atsumu seemed to respect her boundaries more than before and kenma knew that at the end of the day, he’d be the one kissing her, not him.

the blood pounding in his ears was so loud he barely realized they were starting. their song had grown familiar to him, and it helped him feel the slightest bit calmer. the pair started apart, spinning in time with one another, before coming back together and skating backwards, picking up speed as they glided past him and then across the center of the rink.

he held his breath watching their first real move, watching her position herself in front of atsumu, his hands on her waist before he lifted her and threw her forwards. he heard ukai let out a breath with him as she landed.

ukai had drilled many terms into his head, and they came to mind without him having to think about it. they skated past him again, grabbing each others hands and facing each other before y/n arched farther and farther down. that was a death spiral, he could remember that one easily. the name and actual position had fascinated him, and he watched closely, hands pulling at the fabric of his pants.

“fuck,” ukai cursed as they slowly stood back up, atsumu pushing her out with their hands bridged above.

kenma immediately threw a look his way, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong. “what happened?” he asked, his breath feeling short again.

“they just–they got up too fast,” ukai pinched the bridge of his nose, “it won’t affect them much, but i know they’re both thinking of it and–” he covered his face with his hands, knees bouncing.

“oh, the twist is soon,” kenma finished for him, looking forward again.

“kenma,” ukai’s voice immediately made him look back again, frowning in confusion.

“let me hold onto you for this, please, i might have a heart attack if this goes wrong,” ukai was looking at him with the widest bloodshot eyes he’d ever seen, rivaling how bad he could look after a few consecutive nights without sleep, and kenma couldn’t even blame him.

“oh, yeah. go for it. whatever you need,” he answered as nonchalantly as he could, unsure of what to do but offer himself to the older man.

there were two hands on his shoulders, holding him firmly as they both watched, frozen in place as they watched the two skaters.

there atsumu’s hands went on her again, her own hands moving to hold onto his wrists as he lifted her up.

ukai was murmuring a prayer of pleas and “oh my god”s next to him and kenma joined him in his head.

his eyes were burning from how long he’d kept them open, not wanting to blink for even a fraction of a second. watching y/n perform on the ice in front of millions of people total, in person and through screens, only added to all the emotions he felt. if it wasn't from how dry his eyes were, he could probably start crying from how he felt. he was so proud of her. no matter what she won today, she was perfect in his head.

when atsumu caught her again flawlessly, slowly letting her back down as they circled the rink, facing each other. he felt the goosebumps run across his skin as the entire crowd roared.

ukai and him had both stood up screaming, and ukai was shaking him violently as kenma ended up grabbing back onto him. 

they were both panting as they tried to calm back down and the rest of the performance seemed a blur trying to remember it. in the moment, he had been completely present. he knew he had screamed a lot–at almost every movement they did after that twist; adrenaline had completely taken over any rationalization in his head. when atsumu and y/n ended back in the middle of the rink, they were clutching each other, both shaking with sobs.

ukai next to him had a few tears rolling down his face and he was sure he did, too.

the second after their song ended was silent before the stadium was filled with applause once more. groups of spectators stood up one by one before everyone was on their feet. the skaters took their turns bowing before bowing together, twirling each other around a few times.

then he realized he hadn’t even looked up at their scoring and she almost fell to her knees, too, before her partner caught her, realizing what they had won.

“hey,” atsumu’s giving her a wide grin when she steps out of the locker room, “you did great.”

she returns his smile, relaxing her shoulders at his words, “you did too! i felt so relieved after that twist, but ukai’s definitely chewing us out for that spiral later.”

“oh definitely, i could already hear him in my head the moment i realized we stood up too fast,” he uncrosses his arm as he steps away from the wall he’s been leaning on. “so,” he begins, tilting his head slightly down to look at her as he comes to his full height.

“so?” by herself in the locker room, she was fully ready to break his heart if he asked about partnering again next year, but being alone with him in person made some of that confidence die down.

“you’re choosing him over me?” she’s already opening her mouth to respond before she freezes, processing what he really asked.

“what? what are you talking about?” she looks at him, trying to read his face.

“i just thought…maybe you’d say something. especially after that performance, you’d pick me over him,” he’s holding her gaze, revealing nothing in his eyes about what he’s feeling.

“kenma? you thought i was going to break up with him for you?” she backs up a little, trying to put distance between them.

but he follows after her, maintaining the proximity, “yeah. i mean, especially after that fight you guys had. you’re really gonna stay with a guy who hides behind a screen all day? and makes you feel shitty for just hanging around another guy he barely knows?–"

"what? how did you even know about that?” she cuts him off.

“because i knew what i was doing, obviously, taking you out somewhere like that,” he retorts, cornering her into a wall.

“he got upset because he knew you were trying to play him. you’re the one that doesn’t know him. he doesn’t hide behind a screen, and i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong impression. i thought that you were actually trying to be a good person,” she holds her ground, eyes darting ever so often to the hallway to her left, hoping someone might appear.

she sees his fists clench and then relax, “i….i was trying. i am a good person. i tried to be patient and nice, and i backed off because i care about you. i thought i could win you over and show you how good i am. and we’re perfect for each other. the whole world thinks so. did you see the crowd we had? the way they all stood up at the end? kenma’s just someone who manipulates money out of others, but look at us, we bring actual enjoyment to other people.”

that's the last thing he says before she loses her control. his head has been sharply turned to the side and his skin quickly turns red from the hand she slaps across it, and she doesn’t feel bad about it. “don’t you dare fucking talk about him like that. i keep fucking telling you that you don’t know who he is. he’s not a manipulator like you, i mean, seriously. can you step down from your self-appointed podium for one second and listen to the words coming out of your own mouth? you just told me you tried to manipulate me into breaking up with my boyfriend to date you after you tried to make him jealous. you’re full of bullshit, miya. what he does is just as honest and good as what we do. and i’m never working with you again. i don’t give a fuck if you’re little team can prevent me from ever going to the olympics again. do whatever makes you feel better about how pathetic you are. it doesn't matter to me."

she shoves off the arm he had pressed to the wall next to her, walking away. she turns the corner sharply, trying to put as much distance between her and atsumu.

she lets out a breath immediately, feeling a weight lift off her chest before she runs into someone. “oh, sorry–" her voice dies out when she realizes who it is, exclaiming as she pulls him into a hug.

kenma hugs her back for a second before unwinding her arms from him, “y/n," he's holdings her wrists in his hands, eyes scanning her face for anything wrong, "you didn’t answer any of my texts, is everything okay?” she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face before she wriggles her hands out of his, grabbing hold of his face to pull him in for a kiss.

he freezes before kissing her back, holding her closer with a hand pressed against the back of her head but she can feel how stiff he still is with worry.

when they break apart she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder, turning to face his neck and place a kiss on it. “i’m great, kenma. don’t worry,” his hands move to wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer when he’s sure she’s okay. “i just slapped atsumu across the face and gave him an entire speech about how much i love you to his face, you just missed it.”

“damn,” she feels his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath before sighing. “now i wish i hadn't waited so long. i had my phone ready and everything, i was pretty sure i was gonna turn the corner and see you beating his ass.”

"i wish you came sooner too,” she nuzzles her nose against his shoulder before pulling back to look at him face to face, “i would've treasured that video forever, but it's okay. i also may have just ended my career, but we’ll find out about that later.”

he freezes again in surprise at her last comment but she continues, “if it is, we'll find a way, but i think it’ll be fine. maybe atsumu will finally learn his lesson.”

he’s silent for a moment before he decides what to say, “if you say so.”

she can’t help the laugh that spills out of her mouth at his response before it goes quiet, the both of them still looking into each others eyes.

“you know i’m going to ask you what happened later, right?” he gives her a small, teasing smile.

“i do. and i’ll tell you, but right now i’m just focused on you,” she answers with a shrug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“wanna know something else?” he asks.

“what is it?” she tilts her head.

“your lips are still cold from the ice rink.”

“are they now?”

“ i could never forget the feeling. but maybe you should let me kiss you one more time. just to make sure.”

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extras <3

COUNT CONTESSA!!! if you were not apart of my two day freakout over what song atsumu and y/n would actually perform to it was what won the poll i made which is all thanks to the music mastermind @eggyrocks

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @kitnootkat FOR BEING MY PERSON TO GO TO WITH ICE SKATING QUESTIONS THIS CHAPTER WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE W/O YOU and also my 50 wikipedia tabs that have been opened over the course of writing this chapter

also the u.s. figure skating account i fr just copied whatever posts they had

thank u nathan chen for all the work u put in just for a random haikyuu fanfic author to plaster oikawa tooru's name over today (HE'S REALLY GOOD AND HIS PERFORMANCE GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS I MEAN NO DISRESPECT)

i also had no idea the quad axel was like the hardest move ever i FR JUST COPIED THAT FROM A U.S. FIGURE SKATING POST AND THEN FOUND THAT OUT LATER ON GOOGLE SO I PROMISE I DID NOT JUST PULL A WATTPAD AND BE LIKE "oh what is the hardest thing someone could ever do teehee and let me have my mary sue character do it with no flaws whatsoever"

EPILOGUE IS NEXT!!!

i feel like the quality of the written portions really went 📈📈📉📉📉📈📉📉📉📉📉📈📉 i am sorry

also i still had no idea what i'm writing and i am so sorry to any ice skater offended by what they just read and i hope skipped over my horrible descriptions and lack of knowledge writing

that's why this chapter took so long because i was so confused trying to understand the scoring system and what it looks like to the audience and skaters but i really really tried i promise

ukai and kenma were basically holding onto each other the entire time screaming and shaking the other person at every move atsumu and y/n did

ukai is a very proud father and 100% approves of kenma

when y/n wouldn't respond to kenma's texts bc she was busy bitch slapping atsumu kenma was like "i'm going to go find y/n"

ukai did not bat an eye he just pointed in some direction and was like "yeah go that way and turn right. go get your girlfriend. and go get married or something. if security tries to stop you tell them ukai sent you"

that sounds so ominous LMAOOO

in the suna-iwa dorm they were planning to have a civilized, peaceful night watching the olympics together as they cheered on y/n but then got a knock on their door

oikawa got to go and see y/n's performance in person but the rest of them just came over to the suna-iwa dorm to watch y/n together

it would be silent besides the tv in the dorm and then hinata and noya would lead one of those wii golf reactions to everything going on

they'd see yn position herself in front of atsumu before he would lift her so they'd be like "ohhhh" and then he'd throw her and they'd cheer

hinata would also sometimes just death grip kageyama's wrist (holding a paper bag) because he thought he was literally about throw up

atsumu definitely just stood facing the wall where y/n had just been for at least a good 10 minutes in silence before walking down a hallway he had never been down to think about his life choices

then proceeded to call y/n a bitch when a news reporter found him

honestly that did not go well for him

kenma and atsumu x yn fans were not very happy with him

i'm going to stop yapping now

i hope u enjoyed this chapter!! thank u for reading cold kisses <3

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