#cas grins satisfied he got a lil cheek kiss out of that

[angelsdean]

literally genuinely there is a sign on the dean cave door that says “no little brothers allowed !!!!!” and sam has never stepped foot in the room again after scoobynatural. however, adam’s allowed in when he and dean have “educating the angels on pop culture” movie nights. sam does not huff in annoyance, he does not stomp his feet and whine abt double standards and gesture wildly with his gargantuan arms at the sign, dean! the sign says no LITTLE BROTHERS ! he does not do that, nope. (dean later crosses out “little brothers” and adds, “middle children”)

[swift--fox]

Day off

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH I wanted to make this a sort of surprise but I failed miserably. ANYWAY hope u like it i love u you outstanding funky lil dumbass celebrate somehow surviving another year!! (AGAIN please ignore the garbage title I’m so bad at this)

P/N: This is amazing, and I have been hoarding it for like a month (Totally not because I am terrible at remembering to post shit, shhhhhh) But THANK YOU GREY @pissbabydean!!! THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT!!

——

Dean woke up in a great mood. He was well-rested, perfectly sated from last night’s…activities, and they had the bunker to themselves today. He and Sam had agreed to taking a couple “off-days” a month just to keep tensions from building too high. Today was one of them, and Sam was taking Eileen out on a day trip to Colorado. 

Dean rolled over and flopped on top of the warm body next to him, resulting in a sleep muddled grunt. He peppered a flurry of kisses across his boyfriends neck and cheeks, making obnoxious smooching noises as he went. Said boyfriend was now awake, if his sleepy murmurs of protest were anything to go by. 

“‘M sleeping. Get off,” Cas mumbled, eyes still shut while he turned his head, blindly trying to evade Dean’s affections. 

“No way, Grumpy. It’s almost 11, time to get up.” Dean crowed, leaning down to peck a kiss on the tip of his nose. Cas screwed his face up and twisted underneath him, unseating the hunter without breaking a sweat. He buried his face into the pillow with a satisfied sigh.

Dean could almost forget how strong Cas was, seeing as he rarely showcased it. He only really used it on hunts or when they were hooking up - in both instances Dean’s brain was usually too preoccupied to really take note. 

Regardless, Dean had to uphold his reputation as Incredibly Annoying Alarm Clock, otherwise Cas could sleep until 2pm. Which was weird, because angels didn’t even need sleep. Cas just really really liked it, which was all fun and games when Dean could wake up in the arms of his angel and maybe even lay there with him until his growling stomach could no longer be ignored. Now, it was more annoying than anything. At least he could have fun waking him up.

He crawled back over and straddled Cas’s bare back, resulting in a muffled “Uff” into the pillow. 

“Caaas, c’mon, dontcha want to spend time with your loving boyfriend? Who makes amazing pancakes? And who you love so very dearly?” 

A dismissive grunt was all Dean received in way of an answer. Dean leaned forward and licked a fat stripe across the top of Cas’s tanned shoulder. He shuddered once and that was the only response he got before Cas stilled again. He wormed his tongue up Cas’s warm neck and traced the shell of his ear with it, making lewd moaning noises right in his boyfriend’s ear. 

“Gross,” He protested as he reached back to blindly swat at Dean’s face. The perpetrator just chuckled and avoided the half-hearted protest, nipping on his fleshy earlobe.

“You love it,” He teased.

“Not when you have morning breath,” Cas rebutted. Dean hummed dismissively and continued his minstriations. 

Cas didn’t mind enough to put up an actual fight, but he did mind enough that his will-power was slowly diminishing. Then, a tongue snaked into his ear and he shrieked, nearly throwing Dean off the bed while he escaped the disturbing sensation. Dean was folded over with laughter, cackling into the bedsheets while he glowered.

“You’re disgusting and cruel. Go make me pancakes,” He groused, using the hem of Dean’s discarded t-shirt to wipe out the wetness in his ear. Dean, who was still laughing, came over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Comin’ right up,” He grinned. It was hard to stay mad at him, especially with a smile like that. Cas could still act the part, though. 

After brushing his teeth and putting on a clean shirt, Castiel ambled into the kitchen, which was flooded with the scent of cooking batter and fresh-brewed coffee. The table was already set, his favorite mug filled to the brim with dark liquid. He sat down and immediately began nursing the bitter beverage while he watched Dean man the stove, quietly humming to himself. 

Castiel was an angel. He didn’t need to eat, just like he didn’t need to sleep. Unlike sleeping, though, he didn’t particularly enjoy eating. Mostly, if it wasn’t Dean cooking for him, he wouldn’t eat. Not much was worth the overwhelming tsunami of flavor and texture from each individual molecule and building block of whatever he was consuming. But Dean’s satisfied little smile and shining eyes were. 

Pancakes weren’t the worst for him to eat, but they certainly weren’t good by any means. He found that foods containing eggs were largely unpleasant. But Dean always made him a heart-shaped pancake, and Cas’s chest always did those happy little swoops when he caught Dean watching him eat it. 

They finished breakfast and Castiel washed the dishes while Dean dried, then Cas was left to sit on the couch while Dean showered. He reached over to grab his latest read - The Crooked House, which he’d flown to the public library to borrow a few days ago in anticipation of their off-day. He opened up to the yellowed, well-loved first page and quickly lost himself in the rolling plot.

Dean had come to join him some time ago, stray droplets dripping from his hair to the shoulders of his t-shirt. He slid his way over to the couch suavely, socked feet gliding easily over the smooth flooring. If he wasn’t so focused on his book, he would have noticed Dean’s little huff of annoyance that Cas had missed his grand entrance. 

And thus began Dean Winchester’s unabashed quest for attention from his angel boyfriend. It started with an incessant amount of talking.

“Heyyy, Cas, whatcha doin’? He drawled in a very successful imitation of Isabella from Phineas and Ferb (What? It’s not like Cas would get the reference. Slim pickin’s on Netflix these days).

“Reading,” Came Castiel’s curt reply as he turned a page. Dean’s mouth fell open in an overexaggerated “aaahhhh,” noise.

“Cool. Whatcha readin’?” 

“The Crooked House. It’s a murder-myster novel where a young woman’s-”

“Cool, cool. So, whaddya say about a little TV? Ever watched Schitt’s Creek?” Dean cut him off purposefully, gesturing at the TV. The picture of innocence, if you didn’t count the faint upwards tug of the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t mind if you watch something,” He replied noncommittally. Dean narrowed his eyes a fraction and tossed the remote aside.

“Okay, no Netflix. So, what should we do, then?” 

Castiel shrugged and flicked the page. “I’m reading. You can do what you like, Dean - it’s your day off.”

Dean collapsed against the couch with a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up in the air.

“It’s our day off, babe. As in, together. Let’s do something,” He whined. 

“I’m open to suggestions,” Dean sat up excitedly, but Cas held up a finger. “…after I’m done reading.” 

Dean’s face fell and he crossed his arms against his chest. He wasn’t pouting but he wasn’t not pouting, either.

“Come on, dude, you got, like, the whole book still! Watch something stupid and funny with me! Don’t you love me?” 

“I do. And you love me, which is why you’ll let me finish my book in peace.” 

Dean huffed and muttered complaints under his breath. He hated it when Cas turned his own words against him. It was just unfair. 

Dean could be unfair, too.

He started clicking his tongue obnoxiously loud, humming nonsensical tunes to himself, tapping loudly on the end tables with his finger tips. He watched the angel carefully for any reaction to his antics but damn, he knew Cas was good. He would have to up his game.

Then he started singing. Loudly. Badly. Voice cracks and all. 

“Oh Danny boyyyyyy, the pipes, the pipes are ca-a-allingggggg~”

There was a minute twitch in Cas’s jaw and the grip he had on the cover of the book was a lot tighter than necessary. He was getting somewhere.

“From glen to glennnnnnnnnn, and down the mountain siiiii-” 

His mouth was suddenly clamped shut. Lips pressed together, like if he weren’t speaking at all. But he had been, and he was trying to. He tried to speak, to do anything, but no sound came out. 

“Perhaps vocal lessons would be a good investment for you, Dean.” Cas commented off-handedly, and then paused in thought. “Or ear-plugs for the rest of us,” 

Dean glowered at the nonchalant angel on the other end of the couch and shifted, shoving his legs unceremoniously into Cas’s lap, making sure to jostle the book in his hands with his calf. 

He knew Cas knew what he was asking for. HAnd Cas knew he knew that he knew what Dean was asking for. e was just being an asshole for reasons unknown (okay, unknown if you didn’t count the way Dean woke him up that morning. And how he’d scared him in the shower the previous morning).

Where Dean had been glaring a hole into the wall just past Castiel, he noticed that the book was…levitating. Where were Cas’s hands? 

He got his answer a second later when he felt fingers press against the arch of his foot. He tensed and a little ribbon of excitement coiled in his chest. He thought he was getting what he asked for. He was wrong.

Cas’s fingers were…devastating, in all the wrong ways. Just barely brushing his fingertips in sweeping ovals on his heel, occasionally poking his arch or instep. It wasn’t enough to warrant laughter, or even really much squirming. It was just on the precipice, and Dean fucking hated it.

And then Cas decided to get meaner. He would drag a deliberate finger down his sole and as quickly as his nerves could flare up with tingly delight, the sensation was promptly rubbed away by strong, soothing hands. It was a terrible, cruel, sadistic, almost-tickly-but-not massage.

Dean scowled and leaned forward to thwack Cas on the shoulder, though not too convincingly. Despite it not being what he wanted, Cas was a talented (if incredibly mean) masseuse. Dean was putty in his hands, and not the giggly kind. Ugh. 

Cas was still reading his stupid murder book, the creased and worn old book was hovering a few inches from his face, the pages turning on their own. Seriously, how did this guy have enough concentration to do three things with his grace at once? 

“What is it, Dean? What more could you possibly have to complain about? I’m giving you the attention you were so desperate for.” 

Dean harrumphed and glared at his angel, pointedly jostling the feet in his lap. Cas would have found it cute if it wasn’t so annoying. He continued his infuriating game while Dean’s mouth stayed zipped shut with grace, all he could do was move into the touch - and for every bit he did, Castiel pulled back the same. It was goddamn psychological warfare.

Then, there was a…prodding. On his right bottom-most rib, through his shirt. Which could only mean one thing. Dean would, technically, be getting what he wanted. But in the most impersonal and - there was that word again - infuriating way possible. It was more of an itch, really. But the fact he couldn’t scratch it was why he started squirming and kicking his legs out. Castiel was not amused and then Dean realized that he wasn’t moving anymore. He was sending the signals to his muscles to move and thrash and, in general, be a nuisance. His body just wasn’t responding and it took Dean a second too late to register the faint self-satisfied smirk on the other man’s face before the incredibly thin and spindly wire of grace was curling and flossing between each individual rib.

Though, now, he could laugh. And he did. He imagined he would have thrown his head back if he could while he shrieked and full-belly laughter tumbled from his newly-functioning vocal chords. But, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t wiggle, couldn’t shake his head or even clench his fists. He couldn’t do anything that even alluded to a struggle and he couldn’t decide if he liked that added layer of vulnerability or not. 

Then, the spindle of grace turned more into a…tickly lash. The thing with using grace for tickling, (like a filthy cheater, because grace is so unfair for this very reason) is that it doesn’t quite follow the rules. With a wave-length of celestial intent behind the wheel, it was lethal. 

The cruel extension of his power flicked across his chest, leaving behind a swarm of buzzing nerves. It migrated to his neck, his underarms, his belly - Jesus, even his thighs. His laughter was jumpy and bright and desperate, because he didn’t know where the next strike would be.

His question was answered when the malicious tendrils of grace brushed the crease of his thighs. The laughter Cas drew from there was wholly consuming and embarrassing. Cackling, you could call it. Howling may be a more accurate descriptor. 

Dean waited for the electric tingling of his nerves to taper off, but it didn’t come. Cas didn’t stop. 

If it wasn’t before, Dean’s laughter had definitely turned desperate. Gasps and sobs and choked attempts at words and all. 

“C-CAS!” He all but screamed, and the rest of what he would say slipped through the cracks of his crumbling mind. His boyfriend, although sadistic, knew when to stop. Or slow things down, at least. The weapon his thighs were previously assaulted with moved to converge on his stomach, ribbons swirling around the softer center like a goddamn merry-go-round.

Occasionally one of said ribbons would deviate from the rest to wiggle into his belly button - which would add a squeaky quality to his giggling. At least now he could think, although the laughter that was coming out of his mouth (that could only be described as giggling, much to his dismay) was embarrassing enough that it was hard to find this an act of mercy. 

“Yes, Dean?” 

"Me-Mehehercyy!” He pleaded. His lungs were starting to ache, as well as the rest of him, from laughing so hard. Although, it was a nice feeling, Dean enjoyed the feeling of complete bone-deep exhaustion after he and Cas’s sessions. Still, he needed a break. Cas’s book finally was placed on the end table and he smiled over at Dean fondly with a short nod. 

When Dean regained control of his body, the first thing he did was fold forward and press his forehead to Cas’s thigh, panting out the last of his residual laughter. A warm and firm hand rubbed soothing circles into his back and Dean leaned into the heavenly touch.

“You were mean,” Dean whined, no real accusation behind his words. He felt Cas chuckle more than he heard it, and he was being guided to collapse in his lap again. This time, his upper-half was splayed across the sweatpant-clad legs and he was face down, cheek pressed against the top of Cas’s thigh. He sighed and immediately molded himself to the warm body under him.

“I was, wasn’t I? What would you like?” 

Dean hummed and reached behind him blindly for Cas’s hands.

“Touch me.” 

A blissfully wam palm flattened in the center of Dean’s back and began rubbing once again, the same soothing circles, but now under the shirt. 

“Is this good?” 

Dean thought for a moment.

“Light.” Was all he could manage, as his brain was currently tickled-out mush.

Cas made his hand into more of a relaxed claw and dragged the pads of his fingers and occasionally the edges of his blunt fingernails of the pliant and receptive planes of Dean’s back. The hunter let out a herculean sigh as every bit of stress was drawn out of his body by his caring and meticulous angel. Damn, he’d have to annoy Cas more often.

[minhomas-tmr]

The Stars Don’t Know Shit, My Friend - Chapter 5

Thomas stumbled into someone as he was pushed. All he got knowing Minho came through as well, was a subtle brush to his back. The room was surprisingly still packed, but not as much as before he supposed. Most importantly, it appeared Teresa had left.

From the hint his now boyfriend provided, Thomas had a fair idea of what Minho had in mind and it sent a pleasant thrill down his spine. First things first.

He made his way through the crowd looking for his friends, having to pass by a couple archways in his search, which predictably got him some taps and for the most part, he ignored it.

Thomas acknowledged number 16 though, turning towards her. She was fairly pretty to say the least, but he noticed they weren’t even directly under a mistletoe. How had he missed this? No wonder Minho had been pissed… Blinking the thought away, Thomas tried to make out the words through the loud music. His frown must have given away his displeasure however, because she withdrew the hand still on his shoulder.

“Yeah, can I help you?” he said. The girl stammered a lot trying to come up with an excuse of stopping him in between arches. Come to think of it…many of the mistletoe had disappeared. Maybe Newt’s thing had been achieved?

Just then he spotted Rachel. “I have to go.”

Thomas pushed through the crowd, feeling at least five more taps before he reached his friend. He included them in his count anyways. As soon as she spotted him, Rachel marched over.

“Really?!” Hands on her hips, she frowned at him.

“I got held up,” Thomas shrugged. To be fair, Minho had held him up—against the wall—though he doubted Rachel would appreciate that definition. The memory must have warmed his cheeks because his friend’s mouth dropped open.

“Are you serious!! Thomas that’s so irresponsible!…what if—“

“Hey, Teresa isn’t here right? So I’m good,” he shot her his winning smile.

“You’re staying aren’t you?” Rachel’s shoulders sagged, knowing she’d have to sneak back to the tower on her own. If she’d known once Thomas started thinking with his dick, he turned into a shit best friend? She’d have protested his ‘activities’ a little more.

Like he could ready her thoughts, Thomas grinned as he walked away from her. “I believe in you!” And that’s when it happened.

“Hi,” said a voice husked in his ear. Thomas spun around coming face to face with Minho. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. “Number?” That prompted a response.

“Seventeen.” He hardly had to whisper, what with the murmur of the crowd around them. Before either could say anything, another voice called out.

“Minho!” Minho and Thomas turned towards Newt, who was radiating with happiness. Minho raised an eyebrow, a silent question, which Newt answered with a wide smile.

“What is it?” Thomas looked between the two of them, getting a ping of..fuck what was that feeling? Getting impatient Thomas repeated himself, only louder, “What is it?!”

“What do you think?” Newt said smugly as he passed them, pushing Minho towards Thomas purposely so he stumble into him, sandwiching Thomas between his boyfriend (heh) and the wall. He was only too familiar with the position and fuck, his knees turned weak as Minho’s pupils dilated.

“So you gonna kiss me or what?” he breathed against pink lips, just before they slotted in with his. He fought a whimper and failed miserably when Minho’s tongue slipped into his mouth in a wet, claiming kiss.

The sound probably got drowned out by the suddenly too loud Christmas music, but Thomas could literally feel the waves of satisfaction coming off Minho as he growled low, pressing Thomas firmly against the wall.

He may have pulled the Slytherin harder to him. His hands may have found their way into Minho’s hair. He may have parted his legs in subtle invitation.

Minho didn’t take the bait though.

“Public, remember?” Smugness still radiated off him, “Besides…thirteen more to go.” And then he was gone. Thomas sagged against the wall beside the pillar he’d been smushed against, trying to get his breathing under control.

Suddenly, he realized he had an audience. Two girls were staring wide eyed at him, before looking at each other.

“Wow. Harriet, take notes,”

“I ship it!” the other girl giggled, staring after Minho, who parted the crowd with ease. Thomas noticed him getting taps too. Minho didn’t even react and warmth curled in Thomas’ chest.

“Are you finally together now?” the shorter one asked, eyes sparkling.

“Um..” Thomas found he didn’t want to outright lie about his relationship so he was stuck on what to say, just looking at her stupidly. Then her words struck him. “Finally?”

She rolled eyes, and shook her light blonde hair in exasperation. “The staring? In the Great Hall? You do know the Hufflepuff table is between, right?” Thomas blushed crimson. Maybe him coming out to the school wouldn’t be a complete surprise…

“Like I said,” the one still giggling came up closer too, “I ship it. Come on Sonya!! We just got here! Alby finally arrived so Newt’s only kept quarter of the mistletoe!”

She confirmed what he had suspected which..Shit! Newt might take them all down and if that was the case…Thomas may have to purposely bump into people just to get their attention, just to turn them down. Every countdown reaching one, sent a thrill through him. Minho must be watching because as soon as he reached 30, Minho appeared again.

Minho holding him in the middle of the archway made Thomas warm all over, arousal skyrocketing. Here, they were much more visible, and this time *he* was the one to crash his lips against Minho’s, biting his bottom lip hard before demanding more. More contact. More kisses.

They were just them now and he was free to do this, “Washroom. Now!” he growled and walked away.

No sooner had Thomas turned into the hallway leading away, that Minho pushed him into an available washroom.

Thomas' hands roamed everywhere, bodily pinning Minho to the tiled wall, fingers sinking through the Slytherin’s soft hair as they kissed. A big change from their previous dynamic, but Thomas surprised himself, loved this freedom.

A hand sneaked between them and Thomas’ head fell forward, feeling Minho rub over his pants. The lack of underwear and the fact he’d just come, made Thomas push away.

“Sensitive,” he whimpered into Minho’s mouth as an explanation. In response, Minho slide his hands under Thomas’ thighs, lifting him easily onto the counter to remind him where else he was sensitive, the burn on his tender backside making him whine.

“Selfish little tease aren’t you,” Minho bit his bottom lip, sucking on it and that just rocketed his arousal higher, body naturally reacting to the ministrations. “So demanding, I’ll just have to open you up gently then. Maybe that’ll teach you some patience,”

“Minho don’t you dare!!”

“Hey, if our first time as ‘just us’ is going to be in a public washroom because you’re so impatient to get dicked, then you are going to endure my demands too.”

Thomas whined petulantly again, and Minho pecked him on the lips as if that would placate him. He’d experienced Minho taking his time before. At least this time he didn’t have a cock ring on.

Then all of a sudden Minho froze and stepped away.

“W-what are you doing?” Thomas asked confused, missing his boyfriend’s body heat instantly.

“I just..I didn’t even ask if you wanted to top? I mean—since it’s our first time and all, we can swit—“

“Minho just ‘dick’ me already! Or tease me or whatever the fuck you were planning okay?” Minho still looked conflicted, so Thomas took a deep breath and pulled him closer. They were still clothed, so small mercies.

“I think you know we’re not going to be able to not be how we’re used to. When it comes to sex, cuffed or not, I’m always going to be a needy lil’ shit and you’re gonna be the one to put me in my place. Okay?” Minho’s mouth dropped open in surprise and Thomas grinned, pleased at the reaction. “Just seeing you in a hallway accidentally turns me on…And I’m not complaining.”  

“You’re so hot when you’re that eager,” he flicked Thomas’ pant button open one handedly, and yanked it down and off. Thomas slipped out of his shoes without being told. “Always ready for a good time, huh?”

“Yes,” Thomas licked his lips, bucking his hips forward until Minho grabbed them, stilling his movements, “please?”

“I’m sure you can do better than that, since you’re apparently ‘oh so desperate’,” the mischief was back in his eyes.

“Minho, don’t tease! You promised if I said no to them, you would give it to me!”

“That’s true,” Minho tugged Thomas’ shirt signalling wanting it off, and just like that, Thomas was completely bare but when Minho went to undress himself, he was stopped.

“What?”

“Can..ahh, can you leave your clothes on?” Thomas blushed furiously, as his boyfriend’s heated gaze traveled down his body.

“You’re the kinkiest fucker I’ve ever met, Thomas,” Minho shook his head, but obliged him, kissing Thomas’ nose gently when he was pulled forward. Then without warning, he slipped a lubed finger into Thomas’ puckered hole.

“Shit, Minho,” Thomas hissed, surprised.

“You should know,” Minho started conversationally, working Thomas open at a glacial pace. “I really haven’t soundproofed, so you might want to keep it down huh?”

“What!! Nononono Minho that’s no-not—“

“That’s not completely hot? Because this is saying otherwise,” Minho flicked Thomas’ hard cock, that was already leaking precome despite his recent orgasm.

Thomas bit his lip hard, trying to stop pleasured gasps from escaping, which only encouraged Minho to tease him harder. The threat was real so he was about to plead again, when Minho found his prostrate and a shout escaped him, mortifying him, “I ca..ant. Please, you’re wand..use your wand!”

“My wand? You’ll get my wand when I’m satisfied with opening you up…” he growled in Thomas’ ear and he shuddered, fisting his hands on Minho’s shirt like it would save him from the humiliation of being found out if he couldn’t keep quiet.

Then Minho did something surprising; he placed the wand in question on the opposite side of the marble sink Thomas sat on, “There you go. Soundproof it yourself if you’re so worried.”

Thomas blushed and sent Minho a pleading look. The bastard was actually gonna do this to him? The slow romantic song was playing in the party room on low volume, almost felt like it was mocking him—any sounds he made would easily be heard, and if there’s one thing he’d learned about himself being with Minho, he was loud.

“Please!” Thomas whispered in frustration as Minho lightly brushed his prostrate but mostly avoided it all together. He never realized what a difference a command made versus self-will. Being ordered to make no noise was nothing in comparison to the threat of exposing himself if he was too loud. — Minho smirked, watching Thomas’ conflicting face. He wasn’t one to push a kink, so if Thomas did end up using the wand, the Ravenclaw knew Minho would still torture him by gently fingering him open.

They’d maybe slow-dance, maybe leave the party room and find a corridor not filled with judgemental portraits, as Thomas went to his knees. But that’s it—sexual fun times at least. Minho was an endless romance novel.

If Thomas chose not to play at all tonight, they could always try it some other time. This was easy in comparison because they didn’t have immediate company close by, but that wasn’t what this was about, was it?

No..no..this was a deliberate move, getting Thomas to decide his privacy level. It was about admitting it: his desperation, his need to get fucked and his choosing of not soundproofing the room when given the opportunity.

“Please,” Thomas quietly begged again. “I’ve been good.” It was humiliating, but that was the whole point.

“I already told you,” Minho gestured nonchalantly to his wand, slicking up another finger with plenty of lube within Thomas’ line of sight, just to provide next to no friction as he eased them inside, thumbing the head of Thomas’ leaking cock simultaneously.

Minho smirked inwardly, an idea coming to mind. He picked up his wand making it look as though taking pity on Thomas, that a look of relief crossed Thomas’ face. He reacted too quickly. Poor baby.

“Going once.” Minho stared straight into Thomas’ wide eyes, when he realized—

“Going twice.” Watching Thomas admit it, albeit silently, turned him on so much.Thomas opened and closed his mouth, trembling at being taunted like this. It was absolutely delicious the way his face reddened, looking at the wand but didn’t move. Didn't move a muscle.

Even when Minho whispered softly, slowly tucking it away. “Gone.”  

“What now?” Thomas had barely stuttered those words out, when Minho zeroed in hard on Thomas’ prostrate and he moaned loud, hurriedly cut off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Fuck, this isn’t slo—“ Minho jabbed his prostrate again.

“Oh baby, you should have taken it,” Minho said casually, as though he wasn’t driving Thomas insane with on and off stimulation, punishing him for mouthing off. “Please,” Thomas trembled against Minho, shirt clutched tightly in his grasp, as he panted into his shoulder.

“Please what, Thomas? You’re the one that wants this party to know how slutty you are.” Minho said. Thomas cried out into his shoulder, undecided if he wanted to back away from Minho’s fingers or push forward to get them deeper. “Ohh..you want more?”

“Yes..n-no I—Minho I can’t!!”

“Yeah, I understand where you’re coming from,” Minho timed it perfectly, finding his prostrate again and circling it slowly, giving continued but light stimulation on the word *coming*, smirking as Thomas arched back, failing to hold back a whimper, trembling as he wrapped his arms around Minho’s broad shoulders.

“I know you can be quieter than this…” Minho said voice low, “which can only mean you want to be heard. You want to be heard begging and crying, and whining to cum. Such an upstanding student you are.”

Using his other hand, he wrapped a hand around Thomas’ still sensitive erection and jacked it off slowly, watching for Thomas' tell-tale signs, until Thomas gasped wetly, shaking against him, right on the edge..the edge—

Suddenly he withdrew his fingers and hand from Thomas’ cock. Thomas stared wordlessly in shock as his dick pathetically ejaculated, but with none of the mind numbing pleasure attached to it.  Minho had actually ruined it—left Thomas horny and so so needy.

Thomas burst out crying, mindlessly begging, fighting so hard to not to be too loud. He had no idea what he was saying, just that the energy which had been building under the surface with Minho’s endless teasing—was still frustratingly there but no relief in sight.

The need being too high, Thomas thoughtlessly grabbed Minho’s fingers to move in him again, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything but drive himself crazy. Minho couldn't hold his amusement in any longer, eyebrows raised as Thomas' cock bobbed at his gaze, even as he whimpered humiliated.

“Look at you, so desperate for anything aren’t you, baby?” Thomas didn’t respond and keened high when Minho grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, “Aren’t you?” he repeated louder, and Thomas blubbered his agreement immediately.

“Get down.” Minho commanded, and on wobbly legs Thomas obeyed, feeling shame eat at him even more as his painfully hard and exposed cock, brushed against Minho’s clothes—Minho who looked poised and perfectly composed while he probably looked like a wreck.

“Turn around, hands on the mirror.”

Thomas swallowed hard. It was one thing imagining what he looked like while being fucked and another actually seeing Minho destroying his sanity while he was ordered to watch. Because he knew his Dom was sadistic enough that he’d get Thomas to watch.

But Minho was hitting all his buttons tonight and he was in heaven and hell for it. Despite knowing it was useless, Thomas begged anyways, “Please, please no,”

Minho smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile.

Thomas bodily shuddered as Minho’s palms trailed lightly on his sides, before reaching his hips, spinning him around abruptly and Thomas held himself on the counter just in time. Describing Thomas as a wreck was a huge understatement and his red bitten lips trembled at the sight, knowing by the time Minho was done with him, he’d look..look..

“Cock-drunk,” Minho promised darkly, as though he could read his mind, fingers grazing his hole but not giving him what he wanted. He gulped and placed his hands on the mirror, willing his legs not to give out. He could tell Minho was trying not to outright laugh at his pathetic attempt at composure, eyes noticing his cock twitch, and knew with certainty—his sadistic boyfriend was gonna make him scream. — His boyfriend was beautiful in his submission, this level of trust was one Minho would never forget. He pressed himself against Thomas’ back, making him hyper aware of their power imbalance, the course texture of his clothes rubbing on Thomas’ still bruised ass. Given Thomas’ embarrassed face, Minho knew he was super aware of it too.

“Love it when you’re on display for me,” he whispered in his ear, as he twisted Thomas’ nipples, a finger running down the length of Thomas’ cock, getting another jerk as Thomas moaned low, head tipped back onto Minho’s shoulder.

He allowed him that brief reprieve, looking forward to destroying whatever illusion Thomas had of his dignity—made all the more delicious with his given consent.

“Minho,” Thomas whispered.

“Yes, baby?”

“Cock, please..?” his voice was soft, pleading like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to talk.

Thomas tended to sink fast, so Minho didn’t remind him that regular rules didn’t apply this time. They were scening sure, but they weren’t scening per se, but still he didn’t dare break that mindset. By his tone though, Minho would say his boyfriend was on board for whatever he’d planned next.

“You’re asking for cock? Still think your little cock is of importance, I see,” he flicked Thomas’ hard-on with more force this time, making him buck his hips as pleasure ripped across his body. Thomas shook his head frantically, but Minho flicked it three more times just for fun. “What then? Want my cock?”

“Yes, I—I want to please you. I need..I need to please you, please?”

Minho raised his eyebrows unimpressed when their eyes met through the mirror, “You better be able to do better than that, if you want my cock.”

Thomas’ head dropped to hide his red face. Fuck. Knew what he had to say in order to get what he wanted. It made him deliriously horny. “Want to be used. Want you to use me, please? Please use me…”  

“Is my little toy feeling empty already? My slutty bitch gonna make yourself useful finally?” Minho unzipping his pants sounded so loud in the small washroom. Thomas went bright red at the reminder and degrading words but nodded anyways. “Go on then,”

Minho rolled his eyes when Thomas looked confused “Are you expecting me to help you? Put my cock in, and keep those asscheeks spread for me.” Minho smirked as Thomas became unable to keep eye contact. Hand shaking, he guided Minho’s hard cock into his well prepped hole, moaning loudly at the feeling of being so full.

Being inside Thomas felt amazing, Minho was determined to offer the same and drive Thomas crazy with lust. He snapped his hips forward, the action pushing Thomas against the counter, arms shaking as Minho hit his prostrate at every thrust.

Thomas’ jaw hung slack at the overstimulation. His hands still holding himself open, he had no hope to disguise his pleasured sounds and Minho looked on with satisfaction, but you know what would be better?

“Don’t drop your eyes or there will be consequences,” Minho’s pace quickened, Thomas’ hole was so tight, it felt so good, as he watched Thomas watch himself, have to use his stomach muscles to hold himself high enough, Thomas' moans helplessly falling from his red bitten lips.

“Can you imagine?” Minho switched the speed and began fucking into him leisurely, “Imagine if someone found you moaning on Slytherin cock. Holding your asscheeks open, begging for cum, you a proper, supposedly poised, respectable, Prefect acting like a shameless whore?”

“I-I’m not a wh-hore,” To his embarrassment, he whined high as Minho kept a steady rhythm, spreading his thighs wider, displaying his hole clearly.

“Your body doesn’t lie, baby” Minho whispered hotly in his ear, “Exactly how long ago did you cum, that you’re hard already? I even let you cum, what..two minutes ago and still you’re dick’s so shameless, so needy. I can feel you sucking me in. So so eager for more, what does that make you if not a desperate whore?” Minho taunted and Thomas’ face burned hot.

“Go on..tell me. Sure as hell doesn’t make you a good boy.” When Thomas kept quiet eyes dropping in shame, Minho squeezes his balls in warning and he jerked his eyes back to the mirror, his eyes tearing up at the pain. And for the second time that night, Minho backed up.

“NO!” Thomas cried out loud, tears falling in streaks down his face. Hands returned to the mirror, and he struggled to hold himself up with the shock of Minho moving away. Minho smirked as he stood still, watching lazily.

“Look at yourself, baby. Horny and desperate and Loud, you want a reward? You have to work for it dirty boy. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Without thinking, Thomas pushed his own hips back desperately and judging by his teary eyes widening, he finally clued in.

Minho hadn’t been planning on fucking him stupid. No, this ultimate act of humiliation, acting like a needy bitch came from himself, using his own body, his hole to pleasure Minho like a toy, as Minho simply stood there. It was degrading, feeling like an object meant only to give pleasure without getting any. He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped trying to get off, and even after realizing it, couldn’t bring himself to stop.

His shame morphing to arousal only made him leak harder. Made him fuck back harder.

“Go on…show me how much of a slut you really are, so hungry for cock, so desperate to please, using your body to get me, and only me off. Isn’t that right?”

Minho laughed as Thomas’ hands slid down the mirror, jaw slacked, eyes glazed, no strength left in holding himself up now. He was sobbing continuously, so beyond overstimulated but still he had a job to do. All his energy went into pushing his hips back and clenched his hole to make it good for the other boy. He felt Minho's cock pulse in his hole and clenched his splichter tighter, a second later feeling Minho cum in him and then Thomas' pride truly disappeared.

“Puh-please, fuckplease make me come, I wanna come, please!” Dazed and flushed with want, lips swollen from trying to hold back sounds, Thomas pushed his hips back frantically, trying to find Minho’s cock. "I-I'll do anything! Ss-swear more! I'm so empty, wannna wann-"

He was surprised when Minho reached around to jack him off, as he stuffed three of his fingers in Thomas’ mouth, not wanting to chance a student hearing Thomas screaming for permission, over the music.

“I thought I told you to watch yourself,” and Thomas instantly obeyed, despite his front sliding on the counter, his nipples sore, his muscles turned to mush, and could barely hold his head up as he shamelessly sucked on Minho’s fingers. Fuck, he really was a slut.

And again like Minho could read his mind, he said, “We agreed you are a slut right? Do greedy sluts deserve to cum, baby?” Minho took his hand off Thomas’ red, painful, sensitive dick, and before Thomas could react, thrust two fingers suddenly in his hole, abusing his prostrate. A full-body shudder ran through him. “Well?” he asked, taking out his fingers dripping in drool, to let him answer.

“N-n-o Minho,” said the other boy collapsed beneath him.

“No what, Thomas?” For the first time since their hard play began, Minho asked softly.

“No a..a s-slu-t ll-ike me,” Thomas struggled to put words together, voice practically gone.

“Won’t come, right?”

Thomas’ face was wet, as was the counter under his face. His ass felt like it was on fire, hole so sore and a cock begging for release for what felt like hours. He doubted he had any energy left to stand even, twitching as he was still stimulated by Minho’s fingers pleasurably torturing him. Won’t come. Wont. Minho had said. Won’t

“I-I w-won-nt c-cumm,” Thomas cried even harder.

“Promise? Even if you’re forbidden to touch yourself? I don’t know if you have that type of control yet, Thomas. What if you slip up and rut in your bed like a bitch while asleep? You’ll probably need the cage, huh?”

How could Minho sound so concerned as absolute filth left his mouth? Thomas was speechless as he pictured what had been said to him, and flushed even more. Worse was, Minho could see everything through the mirror, could see how much he loved the idea, how much he hungered for it.

“I n-n-neeed t-the cage, pl-lease,”

Finally Minho removed his fingers from Thomas’ ass, “Good boy.” — “Merlin, Minho I swear you fucked out my soul!” Thomas whispered furiously as Minho used his wand to clean them both up. Well, mostly Thomas.

“Doubtful. You can still talk,” Minho gave him a shit eating grin. When Thomas glared, he pointed out, “I spelled your cum-filled hole clean, like you wanted. I even used the cooling spell and numbing cream. Be grateful.” He was satisfied when Thomas dropped his eyes, blushing.

“How many days?” Thomas had yet to put his pants back on, staring at his cock cage expressionless.  

“Three.” Thomas’ head shot up in shock. “It was for every time you looked away from the mirror. The actual count was five, so—“

“Yeah, yeah, be grateful,” Thomas muttered sullenly.

Minho grabbed his chin, tilting it up to kiss him softly. When Thomas’ pout remained, he hesitated. “Hey, I can take it off if it’s too much?”

“Umm..no?” Thomas wouldn’t look at him as he pulled his pants up. “I mean..it’s not too much. Only three days.”

“I won’t make it easy.” Minho warned. "For instance, wear this tomorrow morning,” he handed Thomas a butt plug. A vibrating one, fairly wide. It had a remote but only could be used in close range. Thomas shuddered, his cock trying to get hard already. Minho had to use the cooling charm on his cock too in order to put the cage on.

“Fuck. I’m too sensitive though,”

“Who said anything about fucking?”

“But I have Quidditch practice early tomorrow?”

“Not my problem,” Minho said airly, and Thomas looked like he was about to throw a fit. “Fine! Put it in, in the change room after practice,” Thomas looked mortified at the prospect, so he shrugged, “You’ll just have to be reeeally quiet when prepping yourself, but you’re good at that aren’t you, Thomas?”

“I really hate you Minho,” Thomas glared at him.

“I’m looking forward to that blowjob you’ll be giving me at some point,” Minho gave Thomas a playful kiss before stepping out of the unlocked washroom door. He smirked at the small whimper before closing it fully.

This was gonna be so much fun!

[theonewiththefanfics]

So Close And Still So Far (one-shot)

Synopsys: Love can be the best and the worst thing ever. Especially when you have to let it go. Especially when you’re so close to that happily ever after.

Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

Warnings: talk of death, injuries, hospitals, Bucky’s just generally a sad boi 

Genre: angst, boiiiii so much angst, lil bit of fluff in the end

Word count: 3933

Inspired by ‘So Close’ from Enchanted; give it a listen while reading :)

You're in my arms And all the world is gone The music playing on For only two

       She looked just as beautiful as before. Ethereal. Relaxed. Glowing. Bucky practically sprinted towards Y/N, wrapping her in his arms and lifting her from the ground, her warm body pressing tightly against his, filling his soul with happiness and love once more.        “I missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled in Y/N’s skin kissing her collarbones before turning her head so that their lips could meet. The satisfied sigh she released made Bucky shudder in relief. Way too long had they been separated.        “You’re just as beautiful as I remember,” he whispered pulling back, cerulean eyes roaming all over her form making her scoff.        “Oh, stop it, James, my hair probably looks like a mess,” Y/N chuckled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.        “No,” he shook his head. “You’re perfect like always.”        “I missed you too,” she replied letting her frame go lax in his strong hands. She knew he’d hold her up no matter what. “Thought about you every day.”        Sighing she pulled back cupping his cheeks. “How’ve you’ve been? How are the others? Tell me everything.”

So close together And when I'm with you So close to feeling alive

       “Well, Peter just started MIT,” Bucky said keeping Y/N in his hold, a hand weaving into her hair and playing with a Y/H/C strand of it, as she listened. “Pep and Tony finally decided on a name. Lillian, though Morgan’s not too happy.”        Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up, and she snorted. “Why?”        “Cause she wanted her sister to be called ‘not-the-favourite’.”        She missed Morgan. And Tony. And Pepper. The three of them had become her make-shift family during the five years after Thanos’ snap.        Bucky was gone, leaving her all on her own, and Y/N couldn’t bear to look at Steve or Nat, the vivid image of her James disintegrating right in front of her brought back like a lightning strike.        So, she’d asked Tony if he’d be okay with her staying in the little guest house they had by the lake. She wasn’t too sure if he’d even want to look at her, given how Y/N had been part of Team Cap during that whole Civil War thing, but when the genius had pulled her in for a bone-crushing hug, she knew the past was in the past for them. Now they had to start building a future.        “Morgan asked me to tell you she misses your cakes,” Bucky chuckled, and after a pause, he added, “I miss them too.”        “I miss baking them for you, even though the two of you are the worst sous-chefs on planet Earth!”        Bucky gasped putting a hand against his chest in mock hurt. “How dare you!”        Y/N shrugged unable to keep the large smile off her face. “Depends, is Nebula back or still off-world?”        He chuckled and grinned. “Still off-world.”        “Then it’s settled,” her lips skimmed against his as she spoke. “You’re the worst.”

A life goes by Romantic dreams must die So I bid mine goodbye And never knew

       He didn’t mind being the worst. As long as he got to be hers.        “I’m gonna marry you someday,” Bucky stated not once breaking eye contact, not even when Y/N’s breath hitched.        “James…” she tilted her head, and he knew what she was going to say. It was always the same thing over and over again. When she said his real name, he always knew what to expect. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. You know why it can’t happen.”        His hold on her palms tightened. “But it will. I promised you. I’ll get you a beautiful ring, and then we’ll get married, just the two of us, nothing fancy, and we’ll get a little apartment together somewhere away from the city… I promised.”        Y/N gave him a sad smile. “I know. But sometimes it’s alright not to fulfil a promise. Especially when I’m the one standing in the way.”

So close was waiting, waiting here with you And now forever I know... All that I want is to hold you so close

       “You’re not standing in the way of anything,” Bucky shook his head with a frown on his face like he couldn’t understand what Y/N was saying. “This is just a minor hiccup. Sometimes life happens, but we’ll figure something out.”        Yet the nod she gave him didn’t make it seem like she believed him.

So close to reaching that famous happy end Almost believing this one's not pretend And now you're beside me, and look how far we've come

       “Everything’s just not the same without you around,” his voice had dropped and gotten shakier. Y/N knew it meant Bucky was on the verge of breaking apart, so she held onto him tighter.        “You know I’m always with you,” she whispered, placing a hand over his heart. “Right here. Always.”        “It’s just… the bed’s cold… and Steve doesn’t make my coffee the way you can… home’s not home without you.”        She nodded and closed her eyes reminiscing on the way too early mornings when the Captain would wake Bucky up and her with it for their usual 5 AM runs. Begrudgingly they’d slink out of bed, Y/N wrapped in her boyfriend’s grasp as they made their way to the kitchen and b-lined for the coffee machine.        Two shots of espresso, a dash of cocoa powder and cinnamon and caramel infused milk. Bucky swore by the cavity-inducing drink.        “It’s almost like Christmas in a cup,” he’d sigh leaning against the countertop giving Y/N a grateful smile. “And I fucking love it.”

So far, we are so close Oh how could I face the faceless days If I should lose you now?

       “You know that the one thing I want most is to come home,” Y/N said, and Bucky nodded. Her gentle palm rested against Bucky’s cheek, and he let the tears flow. He knew what she was about to say. “It’s time to wake up, James…”        “I know,” he said taking in a shuddering breath. “But when I do, you won’t be there.”        Y/N gave him a sad smile. “I know. But you can’t keep living in a dream. You gotta move on,” she leaned her forehead against his; Bucky tightened his grip on her waist. “You gotta let me go and live.”        He scoffed pulling away a bit. “You’re talking as if I’m not trying to get you back, like you don’t believe in me.”        “But that’s the thing,” Y/N bit her lip finally meeting his eyes. “I don’t want you to.”        “Wh-what?”        “I’m tired James,” she sighed. “I’m tired of holding on. I just want to… I just want to let go… but I can’t until you let me go first.”

We're so close to reaching that famous happy end

       “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Y/N breathed, and Bucky let out a nervous chuckle. His heart felt as if it was about to slam out from his chest.        “That’s never a good sign.”        “I’m a prisoner in my own mind, James…” He understood what she meant. Better than anyone. “I can’t take much longer.”        “But,” he stumbled over his words, brain unable to process what Y/N’s words implied, what she wanted him to do. “There’s still a chance! I’m talking to you right now!”        “While my body’s wasting away!”        “We’ll find a cure,” he growled. “I’ll wake you up! I promised I would!”        “But I don’t want you to... Please, Buck… just let me go… this isn’t a life. And I can see it’s killing you as well…” her heart hurt to say it. “It’s been three years, James… it’s time to let me go.”        He shook his head, gripping onto her hips tighter. But they weren’t her hips, were they? It was just the representation of how she’d seen herself last in the mirror before a poison had entered her system and put her in a coma.        In real life, her hair had lost all of its shine, she hadn’t smiled in forever and hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. This was just all in her head. Alone with herself and no one else apart from when her Bucky came.        “I can’t,” he said letting tears slip down his cheeks. “I can’t lose you. If this is the only way I can be with you, so be it. I’ll take what I can get… I don’t want to let you go…”        “But what about what I want?” that made him stop his pleading, made him look at Y/N.        She wasn’t angry or upset, in fact, her eyes were understanding because if the roles were reversed, she’d fight until her very last breath to keep Bucky with her. “Tony has another kid, Morgan’s already in second grade, Steve got married to Nat, and Peter's in university… I’ve missed so much already, and it’s excruciating having to listen to it happen and not be there. I’m tired of listening life pass me by…”        “One more month,” Bucky pleaded. “Please, give me one more time… if only to see you… to say goodbye…”        By the bite of her lip and the tears brimming at her lashes, he knew Y/N had made her mind up. “This is goodbye… Tonight, James… I want you to do it tonight.”        “No,” he gasped, “it’s too soon. I ca-can’t!”        “Hey, this is not forever,” Y/N whispered to him pressing a kiss below his ear, and even though she wasn’t there, Bucky swore he felt it. “We’ll see one another, sarge. Just… we’ll just have to wait a little longer for our happy ever after… I’ll wait for you…”        And it was as if she knew his hour was up. With a last press of her lips against his, Bucky was pulled back into the reality and out of her mind.

Almost believing this one's not pretend

       An hour a month, that’s how much he’d been allowed to spend with Y/N inside her head. More than that and there was a huge possibility he’d never come back. An hour a month for three years. Bucky had never wanted to cross that threshold than he did at that moment if it meant staying with his love.        “How’s she doin’?” Shuri asked taking off the intricately designed helmet with the connectors that allowed his and Y/N's consciousnesses to be linked and double-checking his vitals. “What did she say?”        Bucky just shook his head and hid his face in his palms letting sobs wreck his body. He couldn’t say it out loud. That meant solidifying her words as the truth.        “She wants us to stop,” he finally choked out after a full-blown meltdown wiping a palm down his face and pushing back his hair, knitting his fingers into the brown locks, hoping that the small amount of pain on his scalp would wake him up from the nightmare.        “Stop what?” Tony asked for a clarification as fear gripped his chest. He knew without him saying it, but needed to hear it.        “Stop searching for a cure… and she wants us to pull the plug.”

Let's go on dreaming, though we know we are

       Those were the last words Bucky was able to get out before a screaming match started in Y/N’s hospital room. Tony, Wanda, Rhodey and even Steve and Sam supported the girl’s wishes, while Natasha, Clint, Vision, Thor, Peter and Scott were completely against it. They wanted to get Bruce’s opinion in as well, but he’d locked himself in the lab for the last couple of months completely isolating himself.        “You can’t be serious, Tony!” Natasha screamed. “You of all people! She’s like your kid, you said it yourself! And now you’re okay with pulling the trigger?”        Bucky watched as the man who used to be Iron Man, the person who saved the world by almost giving up his, hung his head in defeat. He had lost this time, and it hurt more than anything. “It’s what Y/N wants. And we have to respect that.”        “It’s bullshit, that's what it is!” Nat leaned over Y/N’s face hot tears splashing onto her friend’s face. “It’s bullshit, Y/N, you hear me?! Bullshit!”        “You don’t know what it’s like for her,” Bucky choked out, the inside of his throat feeling as if it was stuffed with cotton from all the tears. “She’s all alone except for a few hours a month. That’s not a life.”        Nat scoffed. “How can you say that? You love her! How can you be okay with this?!”        “Exactly!” he sneered. “I love her, and she’s suffering! Do you think I’m happy with what she wants us to do? Do you think I enjoy knowing she’ll never wake up again? That her death will be on me?” he stood up towering over the redhead. “I promised I’d protect her! I promised her we’d find a way to get her back after that fucking mission went sideways, I promised her!”        Suddenly it was like all the fight left him, and he crumpled down onto the floor, resting himself against the wall. Bucky was in a fetal position, no sign of the once menacing Winter Soldier anymore. “And when those two,” he motioned with his head to Shuri and Tony, “when they found a way to speak with her… when they figured out a way for us to communicate, I thought I’d finally be able to do it… I could bring her back…” Bucky looked over at Nat who hadn’t removed her gaze from Y/N.        They were best friends. She had been the closest thing Natasha had had to a family before joining the Avengers. They’d escaped the Red Room together, they’d stuck with one another through thick and thin, and when Clint had been sent to kill the Black Widow, Y/N had put him in a chokehold. Had it not been for Nat telling her it was fine; the archer would’ve found himself with his head twisted 180.        Then the Snap had happened, and it had pulled them apart. Natasha wanted to fight, but Y/N was barely functioning after seeing Bucky disappear, so the thought that she’d have to let her friend go, her family, her sister go after finally getting her back for just a year was unbearable.        “She’s tired, Tasha,” Bucky muttered looking over to where Y/N peacefully slept. If there would’ve been another time he’d go and see her, she most definitely would berate him about all of the yelling. But there wouldn't. “She just wants to rest.”        He saw a translucent pearl splat onto the hand Natasha was holding. “But we’re so close. I can feel it…”

So close, so close, and still so far…

       “Maybe,” he shrugged and stood up, moving over to stand next to the person who had stolen his heart. Gently, like she was made of the thinnest of porcelain, he brushed his fingers against her cheek. One last time. “But she doesn’t want to fight anymore. And her pain is on us if we let this continue.”        That settled it.        “When?” Nat choked out, head turning to the side, but not looking directly at Bucky.        He shuddered but let the word out. “Tonight.”        The rest of the day passed in a blur as Tony signed forms with Bucky sitting next to him, trying to dictate what Y/N had said word-for-word, so when she passed, they wouldn’t be charged with anything. It was a unique situation they were in, being able to communicate with someone in a coma like that, but even their tech wasn’t as advanced as to record what happened inside her mind.        Bucky watched the red and gold titanium alloy that was permanently attached to Tony’s right side, the brutal scarring he’d gotten after wielding the stones. Had it not been for Quill’s quick thinking of making a human chain to dispel the power of the Gauntlet and Captain Marvel’s strength as she held back Thanos, they wouldn’t have won. Now it seemed to Bucky maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad of an idea to lose. Not when the cost of living came with losing their loved ones.        “Did she uh,” Tony struggled to voice his thoughts, “did she say what she wanted us to do with her body?”        “No,” Bucky shook his head. “Didn’t have time for that, and everyone else has already used their quota of the month, so I guess that’s up to us… but she always did love the lake… At your house. Said it was the best place to go and think.”        Tony just nodded unable to express his feelings with such mundane things as words.        The night came faster than anyone wanted and slowly people trickled inside the room that had been Y/N’s home for the past three years.        No one said a thing, just looked at the woman, and gave their last goodbyes silently, as Pepper brushed away a strand of hair from her face and stood up to stand next to everyone else. Even T’Challa and Okoye had flown all the way from Wakanda to be there and help support their princess and friends. How they’d announce her passing to the rest was beyond Bucky, but they’d fight one battle at a time.        “Can I be there?” Bucky asked, grasping onto Y/N’s hand and tracing it with his thumb. “With her? I don’t want her to be alone.”        “I’m sorry, but no,” Shuri shook her head looking at Tony with a sombre face. “If you’re inside her mind when it happens, you won’t get out.”        He almost said that’s what he wanted but stopped before the words got out of his mouth. If he did it, Y/N would never forgive him. Right as he was about to sit down next to her, he looked over where Tony flipped a switch, and his heart dropped.        “What are you doing?” Not yet, not yet, not yet!        Tony removed his hand from the machine, and all the beeping stopped. “There’s no need to hear it.”        It was completely silent, apart from a few sniffles here and there. Everyone was trying to keep it together as much as possible, if only for the look of it, but on the inside, their hearts were being shredded and ripped apart by the sharpest of scissors.        From the corner of his eye, Bucky noticed the breathing machine stop, the trickle of the IV system halt, and her chest no longer rose. It was a matter of minutes now.        “You were so brave, sweetheart,” he whispered to Y/N, giving her a teary-eyed smile, at least soothed by the thought she’d no longer be in pain and alone. “So, so brave… It’s okay to let go,” he nodded to her giving one final kiss to the back of her palm. “You can rest now… no more fighting…”        The line went flat, and like his heart, Bucky broke.

***

       For a moment no one moved, no one even dared to take a breath. Tony glanced over at Shuri, who gave him a nod. He moved closer, a little flashlight in hand as well as a pen to double-check Y/N’s responses, to be able to call the time of death when the door to her room slammed open.        Nat had her gun out immediately but lowered it when a frantic Bruce rushed over to Y/N’s side.        “Plug her back in!” he shouted, and Shuri did as told, switching the machines back to life and once again everything was beeping and hissing everything turning frantic.        Nat’s head whipped to the side. “Bruce?”        “What is that?” Bucky asked as the doctor frantically uncapped a syringe and pushed it into the system that was still attached to Y/N’s arm and once again flowing.        “The super-soldier serum.”        Even Tony was stunned. “The whatnow?”        “On a whim, I decided to combine Barnes’ blood sample he gave before a mission with the clean poison we extracted from Y/N’s system. The serum rebuffed it pretty much immediately,” he gave a quick glance around and lowered his gaze back to the woman in the bed, narrowing his focus in on her. It had to work.        “I’ve been trying to recreate the serum for the past year and a half. All I had to go by was the little bit in the blood, but I finally got it… and no gamma radiation was needed,” he tried to crack a joke, and it kinda worked.        Nat’s lip quirked up, and she loosened the grip she had around her husband’s bicep, but that’s when she noticed how ashen he had gone. Steve was completely still, body taken over by pure shock. “You mean to tell us that a fucking blood transfusion would’ve worked? She could’ve been saved years ago?!”         Before Bruce could say something Bucky spoke breathlessly as he searched for any sign of life in Y/N’s face and body. “No. Neither of us has the correct blood type. It probably would've worsened everything.”        He’d never seen his friend so close to passing out. The amount of guilt the revelation would put on the Captain most definitely would destroy him, and in a sense, Bucky was happy that hadn’t been the answer. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that had been the case, and he had let this happen.        Bucky was on the verge of hysteria, uncontrollably shaking and crying, squeezing Y/N’s palm in his own. “Baby,” he breathed out. “Please!”        That’s when it happened. As if his voice, his plea had been the magic spell, her fingers twitched in his palm, squeezing back; her hold became stronger and stronger with every passing moment until she ripped her hand out of his and wrapped it around her neck.        “Get that tube out of her!” Bucky yelled at no one in particular, but Tony seemed to have had the same mindset, as he gently grabbed her under her neck, Pepper slipping one hand around the girl's right side and Shuri took hold of Y/N’s left, letting Bruce untape the breathing tube.        “You’re gonna have to cough real hard for us, Y/N,” he informed the girl, hoping she heard him, and when he noticed a small nod, he gave the rest the heads up to keep her weak body steady and not let go.        Bucky never thought he’d cry from happiness seeing Y/N cough her soul out, but when she was done, when they tenderly lowered her back onto the bed, Tony attached a mask to her face letting her pull in shuddering breaths of her own.        “James?” Y/N rasped. Her throat was on fire from three years of not using it, but it was a melody, a perfect symphony to the soldier’s ears.        “I’m right here, sweetheart…" he was right next to her and holding her hand in an instant. "I told you we weren’t giving up… that we’d figure out a way. I promised, didn’t I?”        Finally, finally her lashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes to meet his already swimming behind a wall of tears. He'd never loved the color Y/E/C more than he did in that moment. “Yeah, you did… so, say what you really wanna say…”        Bucky almost chocked on his own laughter, as he leaned to hover over the girl, his hair tickling her cheeks. Fuck, did it feel amazing to have her look back at him. “I was right.”       And when she beamed at him, Bucky’s lips broke into his own grin before he pulled the mask away, and her in a long-overdue kiss. “And I’m so fucking glad you were.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Marvel tags: @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @wishingforahome @pizzarollpatrol @desir-ae

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @purplebananatragedy @pxrrishly @parker-barnes-af @skulliebythesea @california-grown @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @belongsto-prachi

A/N: I missed writing for ma boi :)

Also, posting again, cause my Bucky tags ain’t working so I’m hoping maybe this time it will, though they haven’t been working for quite some time now >:(((

P.S. my tags are always open :)

[thecuriouscrusader]

Destiel prompt: sick day! Just fluff or whatever

A/N: Oh God, I’m so sorry. I actually posted this on Ao3 a couple of months ago but somehow I forgot to post it here :S I’m just really sorry and I’m not gunna bother listing off excuses, but I hope you like it x

In Sickness

WhenCastiel woke up he almost cursed the decision he had made to give up his graceso that he could live a mortal life alongside his beloved Dean. He had apounding in his head and a soreness in his throat which he could no longer makevanish in an instant; and somewhat ironically it was all his beloved’s fault.

Dean hadcomplained of similar symptoms the previous morning, and he had sneezed soloudly that Castiel was surprised that the bed posts did not shake. The hunterhad grumbled about catching a cold off a ‘snotty little brat’ who belonged to afamily they had saved from a vengeful ghost. 

Castielhad insisted that he rested for the day, and after thinking about the effort itwould take just to put on a pair of pants, Dean had obliged. He had then whineduntil Castiel agreed to stay with him, and somewhere in-between the cuddlingand cups of tea the germs had been transferred. 

 Castielsat up rather suddenly when he felt a strange sensation course through him;like his body had seized up. He sneezed loudly and Dean shot up next to him.

“S'atan earthquake?” He mumbled, his mind clearly still caught in a sleep idledstate. “Cas, get down!”

“No,I sneezed” Castiel huffed and he pulled a tissue from the box left on thebedside table and blew his nose solemnly. “This is so unpleasant.”

“Crap,I’m sorry, baby” Dean said as he placed a empathetic hand on his husband’sback and rubbed it soothingly. “When you said you wanted us to share stuffmore I don’t think you meant this.”

“Absolutelynot. My head and my throat hurt too." 

"Ah,well, I guess we’ll just have to spend another day in bed together” Deangrinned. “And ain’t that just awful?” He added sarcastically.

“Youare enjoying this far too much” Castiel scolded, but there was also a hintof a smile as he allowed Dean to pull him back down under the covers.

“Hey,I barely get to spend any time with my baby because of all those monsters wehave to worry about, and if we have to be a lil’ sick to do that then so beit.”

“Alright”Castiel conceded. “But I need to get some medicine first.”

“Nope”Dean said sternly as he quickly spooned Castiel from behind and gripped tightlyonto his waist. “I’m not letting you out of this bed” he murmured ashe nestled his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck. 

“I’llonly be a few moments, my love.”

“Toolong” Dean stated. “Besides, we have a giant man-child who owes meafter years of taking care of him myself. Sammy!” He yelled and instantly regrettedit as it caused him to cough harshly.

Theyheard footsteps coming down the hall before Sam cautiously stuck his head intothe room.

“Yeah?”

“Cashas caught my cold so we’ll be in bed again today. Get us some more medicineand a pot of tea, would ya?" 

"Sure.Will that be all, Master Winchester?” Sam sarcastically retorted.

“Yes.Thank you, Jeeves.”

Samrolled his eyes despairingly before leaving.

“Dean,you shouldn’t exploit your brother” Castiel reprimanded. “Surely youare feeling better today?”

“Alittle” Dean confessed. “But not so much that I feel like lifting afinger." 

Castielsmiled lightly. "I suppose some extra sleep would be beneficial, andhuddling for warmth would also be…nice.”

“Thensay no more” Dean urged.

Castielrolled over to allow his husband to pull him into his arms. He nestled into thewarmth and safety of Dean’s chest and closed his eyes with a contentedsigh. 

He feltDean press a gentle kiss to the top of his head before he drifted offagain. 

WhenCastiel woke up he found that Dean had switched on the TV to a low volume andwas mindlessly mouthing along to the words of a Dr. Sexy episode. The hunterhad managed to pull himself more upright, but he was still stroking Castiel’shair affectionately. 

“Dean?”Castiel said groggily.

“Hey,baby. Got the meds for you” Dean said as he grabbed the bottle.“Well, Sam did.”

“Thankyou” Castiel said as he took the cap full of gooey liquid from Dean. Heswallowed it with a grimace. “I think.”

“Sorryyour tea has gone cold; I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’salright” Castiel sniffed. “Although, I am rather hungry.”

“Noproblem. I’ll ask Sam to-”

“Dean”Castiel said sternly.

“Alright”Dean sighed. “I think I can muster up some tomato soup.”

“I’llhelp” Castiel said; he would feel guilty if he was the only one still inbed.

“No,you have to stay here” Dean insisted as he got up and pulled on his 'deadguy’ robe and slippers. “Because if I’m leaving this bed then that meansthat you are left with one of the most important jobs in the universe.”

“What’sthat?” Castiel asked with wide and fascinated eyes like a child being tolda fairytale.

Deanleaned across the bed and looked his husband directly in the eyes.

“Keepthis bed warm.”

Thehunter grinned and planted a kiss on Castiel’s cheek before heading out of theroom.

Castielsmiled from amusement at his husband’s antics, but he was also going to take onthe task which Dean had set him with great seriousness; the former angelappreciated anything which made him feel like he had a purpose.

He daredto briefly leave the bed so that he could use the bathroom, but on his returnhe stopped at various spare bedrooms to gather as many pillows and throws as hecould carry.

As soonas Castiel returned to his and Dean’s own bedroom he made quick work ofconstructing a soft and warm nest for them.

Once hewas satisfied that every pillow had been perfectly placed, Castiel scrambledunder the covers and spread himself out so that his body covered as much of themattress as possible.

He smiledwith delight and could have easily fallen asleep again as he closed his eyes,but Dean returned only a few minutes later with a tray supporting two bowls ofsoup and a fresh pot of tea.

“Awesome,you made us a nest” Dean grinned.

“Well,I tried” Castiel replied. “Although, it is somewhat better than theone I had in heaven; I’ve always been a better solider than a craftsman.”

“Itlooks super cosy to me” Dean said as he handed the tray to Castiel so thathe could snuggle down next to him. “And well done on completing yourmission.”

“Thankyou” Castiel said with a smile before placing a peck on his husband’scheek. 

Castielpoured them each a cup of tea to set on either bedside table and then passed abowl of soup to Dean.

“Itsmells wonderful, my love” Castiel commented. “At least…I think itdoes. My nose feels so stuffed.” He put a spoonful in his mouth andrelished in the warmth it provided, the creamy texture with a hint of spice.“It tastes wonderful too.”

“Thanks,it’s kind of my own creation” Dean said. “I call it 'whatever thehell we had left in the refrigerator’”.

Castielchuckled. “Catchy.”

“Youwanna find something else to watch?” Dean asked. 

“No,I have to find out who stole Doctor Sexy’s cowboy boots.”

Dean’sface lit up and he opened his mouth to say something but Castiel put a fingerto his lips.

“Nospoilers.”

Deansighed and pouted as Castiel lowered his finger and smirked amusedly.

“DidI ever tell you how much I love you?” Dean asked.

“Everynow and then.”

A littlewhile later and two empty bowls and cups with the last dregs of tea in thebottom were placed forgotten on the floor. Dean and Castiel were huddledtogether in the centre of the bed surrounded by used tissues and still feelingworse for wear, but content with simply being in each other’s company.

They hadmanaged to get through a full season of Dr.Sexy which Dean considered a daywell spent.

As theevening drew on Castiel was beginning to feel drowsy again; as he restedagainst Dean’s chest the rhythm of his steady heartbeat was very lulling.

With thebunker being such a huge place made of concrete and stone it easily grew coldat night and it was hard for the heat to circulate, and now with his illnessCastiel found himself shivering easier than usual.

“Youalright, sweetheart?” Dean asked concernedly as he gave his husband a softsqueeze.

“Justa little cold.”

“Howabout we take a bath?” Dean suggested.

“Yes”Castiel said with a soft smile. “That would be nice.”

“Alright,I’ll look into my secret bubble bath supplies and you get naked” Deangrinned eagerly.

“Dean,we are not using this as an excuse to have intercourse” Castieldeadpanned.  “I really don’t feel up to it.”

“Iknow” Dean replied innocently. “You wanna get in the water with yourjammies on?”

“No.”

“Giveme five minutes” Dean said before mustering up the strength to leave thesoft and warm sanctuary which they had created.

Castielwatched the clock on the wall tick until exactly five minutes had passed beforehe removed his clothes and put on his robe and traipsed down to the bathroom.

He foundDean reclined in the ceramic clawfoot tub which was filled to the brim andtopped off with a thick layer of bubbles. 

“Comeand join me” Dean said with a smirk as he dragged his arm through thesuds. “The water’s fine.”

“Willwe both fit?” Castiel asked with a frown.

“Wellif we don’t then chick-flicks have lied to me about the size of bathtubs.”

Castielstill seemed skeptical but he tentatively stepped forward and removed his robe.Dean had to remind himself that this was not about making a sexual advance ashe took in his beautiful husband in all of his glory.

“Bestseat in the house” Dean promised as he brought his legs up and pressed hisknees against either side of the tub so that Castiel could sit between them.

As soonas Castiel stepped into the warm water he felt every ache he was feeling beginto melt away. He sat down so that his back was leaning against Dean’s stomachand rested his head on his husband’s firm chest.

“Wefit perfectly” Castiel concluded as he closed his eyes.

“Good,because otherwise I’d have kicked you out” Dean teased as he started tomess about making bubble beards on Castiel’s chin; he couldn’t tell if Casdidn’t notice or he just didn’t care. “This is my best stuff.”

“Whatare you doing?”

“Seeingwhat you’ll look like when you’re old” Dean said he as added bubbly muttonchops to Cas’ new look. “I’d still do you.”

“That’sthe most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me” Castiel responded lazily;his eyes were still closed as he was actually finding the whole thing soothing.

“Wasthat sarcasm, Mr Winchester?” Dean asked with mock surprise.

“Itcertainly was, Mr Winchester. Besides, I’m already very old.”

“Iknow, but now you have the pleasure of becoming wrinkly and gross likeme.”

Castielsmiled. “As long as you keep taking care of me then we’ll bealright.”

“Throughsickness and in health” Dean reminded him as he wiped Castiel’s faceclean; he didn’t want to push his luck. “Speaking of, how are you feelingnow?”

“Warm…relaxed…happy”Castiel murmured; Dean could tell that that he was on the cusp of fallingasleep again. “You?”

“Youtook the words right out of my mouth” Dean said as he wrapped his armsaround his husband’s waist and sunk a little further down into the tub himself.He delicately kissed the base of Castiel’s neck and across his shoulders.

Castielsighed with content.

Perhapshis decision had not been as regrettable as he had originally thought.