#couple in wooden cabin

[almaadst]

Commission for my sweet @kittifer (❁´◡`❁) Sanda from Prince of Tennis and her self-insert ♡ POV from the window to show contrast in temperature was a cool challenge! Also, I tried to use a different, thinner lineart brush and I think it looks better now ^^ Other: Commission info Kara and Revan Kuvira and Sayi

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT MY or OWNER PERMISSION

[sinner-as-saint]

stuck with you

Bucky x Reader au

Run-through: Alone, cold, and stranded in the middle of a small town on top of a mountain. Not the most ideal situation to be in when the weather starts getting bad. No motels or inns have room for you so the locals suggest you reach out to a man named Bucky Barnes for shelter. Apparently, Bucky is known to always help stranded people, or lost hikers. No matter how weird it feels to drive up to a stranger’s house and ask for help, you have on other choice but to do just that. The plan was simple: stay with the strange, kind man for a couple of days until the snowstorm passes. But then you meet him and you find yourself unable to stick to the plan. 

Themes: age gap (reader is in her twenties, Bucky is in his early forties), strangers-to-lovers ish, smut, slight degrading kink, fluff

It felt like the start of a horror movie. 

Unknown town, unknown people. You cursed yourself as you walked out of yet another motel who had no room left for you. 

What the hell were you thinking? After uni, you thought travelling the world on your own would help you with learning the right lessons, having the right experiences, and all that before you joined the family business and began working with your parents for the rest of your life. 

Instead of having fun though, here you were. Stuck on top of an icy mountain, in a small town, and nowhere to sleep for the night. With the snowstorm approaching, you had to find shelter quickly. But none of these motels or inns were free. Every hiker, skier, and tourist had already booked ahead of you apparently. 

“Uh, miss?” A voice called from behind you right as you were about to step outside into the cold evening. 

You turned to look and it was the owner of the motel. The same man who had just turned you down because he had no space left to accommodate you. He looked apologetic as he approached you. 

“Hi.” You said, then patted your pockets quickly, “Did I forget anything on the counter?” 

“No.” The man smiled and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry you can’t stay. But snowstorms in this area can be dangerous and deadly, and you wouldn’t survive the night if you slept in your car.” He pointed at the rented jeep you had parked right outside the motel. “But there’s a man who can help. His name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He often helps out stranded hikers and stuff, and I already called him and asked if he had room and he said yes.” 

The motel owner proceeded to give you details about Bucky and how to get to his house. From what you’d just learnt, Bucky Barnes was a business mogul who preferred seclusion. He was wealthy, and lived alone in his luxurious cabin that, rumour has it, he built himself. He was in his early forties and had people running his businesses for him all over the world. He moved to this small town after living in lavish cities his entire life. He owned acres upon acres of land, so he was also the local lumberjack and spent his time manually taking down trees whenever anyone needed wood. 

“Don’t worry, miss,” The motel owner reassured you, with a kind smile. “Mr. Barnes is a nice guy. Everyone around here knows him. Just follow the directions I gave you and you’ll find his house not too far from here. It’s a wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest.” 

When you got back in your car, the first thing you did was google the man really quickly. And the headlines, as you scrolled and read them, made your eyes widen a little each time. They were all basically just about what the motel owner already told you. But you needed to make sure it was all real. 

It was. Bucky Barnes was indeed a filthy rich business mogul who chose to come live all the way up here to get away from busy cities and journalists who always followed him around for quotes to put into their articles. 

And then, you began searching for pictures of this man. Your heart skipped a beat upon finding them. Pictures of him at fancy dinner parties, galas, charity events. Pictures of him shaking hands and clinking glasses with famous faces. Pictures of him on business magazine covers.

Pretty blue eyes, handsome face, and a kind smile. You noted the crinkles by his eyes whenever he smiled or laughed in pictures. Whenever he was photographed with a group of people, everyone seemed charmed by him. He seemed tall too. Oh well, safe to say the man was drop dead gorgeous. 

What if he was a serial killer and the people in this town directed victims to his house like he was some kind of twisted leader of this town?

You cringed at the exaggerated thought, shaking your head. 

Usually you weren’t one to trust strangers quickly but it was getting darker, the wind was beginning to howl and the cold was making you shiver even beneath all the layers you were wearing. The snowstorm was expected to last at least three days, so it was either trust a stranger for a few days or die. 

— 

You stopped your car in front of what the motel owner called a ‘wooden behemoth right on the edge of the forest’. And he was right. 

The luxurious log home was situated higher up on the mountain, looking over the small town. Surrounded by towering trees, mainly pine, and the area around the house was foggier than the rest of the town. It would’ve seemed eerie if it weren’t for the warm, golden lights coming from inside the house. 

The house was indeed massive, with intricate carvings on the huge front doors. The roof was covered with dark, polished slate, and what gave the home a more contemporary touch were the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. It looked like the perfect place for someone who sought seclusion and comfort. 

Or a murderer, your brain added. You hissed at the thought, shoving it away as you got out of your jeep. It was beginning to drizzle, the wind howling louder than earlier. You walked up the front porch and knocked on the large doors. 

Before you could check out the porch, you heard loud footsteps approaching. Then, the front door opened. And on the other side stood a handsome man, slightly different from how he looked in the photographs you’d found online, but just as gorgeous. Well, the photographs were all taken from years ago so it made sense that he looked different. Bucky Barnes hadn’t been photographed ever since he moved here, according to the articles, and it was a shame because he was truly a work of art. 

“Hey,” He said with a deep, confident voice. “You must be the girl I just received a call about from the motel.” He opened the door wider. And for a couple of seconds, you didn’t move. 

You were frozen in place. He was… too pretty. That same handsome face as in the photographs, except he had more facial hair now. And longer hair. So long in fact that he had to put it all up in a messy bun on top of his head. A few strands escaped the bun and fell on either side of his face, making him look beautiful in a rugged way. 

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander for just a second. He was just as tall as you imagine, but slightly more muscular than he seemed in the pictures. The white t-shirt he was wearing clung to him like a second skin, the jeans clung to his thighs in a way that should be illegal. 

You quickly looked up and cleared your throat before you got caught ogling. “Um, hi Mr. Barnes. I’m sorry for–,” 

He cut you off politely, “There’s no need to apologise,” He signalled for you to come in. And as you walked into his home he said, “And please, call me Bucky.” 

You smiled at him as you stood near the entrance, waiting for him to shut the door. When he turned to you, he asked for your name and asked what you were doing here. While you answered, he led you further into the magnificent house. 

If you thought it was beautiful from the outside, the interior was absolutely breathtaking. Spacious, with high ceilings. Most things inside were wooden, except for the rugs and the plush sofas. It was an open concept, and you could see the more farm-style kitchen from the living room area and it was just as pretty as the rest of the house. The more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the interior. Elegant curved staircase which led upstairs, massive fireplace, accents of stone and metals everywhere. It looked like a lot of thought went into building this home. 

“This looks like a dream.” You commented, standing in the middle of the living room and taking it all in. The owner looks like a dream too. You sighed at the sound of your inner thoughts. It was true. 

Bucky smiled, looking proud. “It took some years to build but…” He sighed, “It’s worth it.” 

You smiled at him, noticing the crinkles by his eyes as he smiled. Fuck, this man was beautiful. 

“Give me your keys, I’ll bring your bags in, then I can show you to your room.” He extended his hand out, waiting for you to drop your keys into his palm. 

“Oh.” Your face got all hot when you realised you’d just walked into his home empty handed. You’d forgotten your bags in the jeep. “I can go get it, it’s–,” 

“No, I’ll get it,” He cut you off again, stepped closer and took the keys from your hand. “It’s getting bad out there.” Then he walked away. 

And you shamelessly watched him leave. His back muscles moved and shifted under the tight shirt as he walked and you felt a shiver travel down your spine. Think about how those warm, hard muscles would feel under your fingertips… 

Shit. This man was being kind to you and here you were being a pervert. 

–

Bucky brought your bags in, all four of them. Carried them through the front door like they weren’t heavy at all. Well, he cuts down trees for fun so maybe he’s used to carrying heavier things. 

He showed you to one of the many guest bedrooms he had. And the room was just as beautiful and perfect as the rest of the home. King-sized bed, large chest drawer, private bathroom which was fully stocked with toiletries. Large windows, and a small balcony which overlooked the dense forest outside. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. See you downstairs.” He left with yet another smile which made your heart skip a beat. 

–

You found yourself making your way downstairs after a long, warm shower. You wanted to unpack after your shower but then the smell of dinner cooking forced you out of the room. You followed the delicious scent of what seemed like pasta sauce, sniffing the air quietly until you made your way into the gorgeous kitchen. With an even more gorgeous man in it. 

“There you are,” Bucky smiled at you as you approached the large kitchen island which was also the dining table. “Everything okay with your room?” He asked, stirring some kind of sauce in a pan before resuming chopping some other thing. He looked so comfortable in his kitchen, it was endearing. 

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You answered, lingering by the kitchen counter awkwardly, “You need help with something?” 

“Sure, if you want.” Bucky nodded and pointed at the other side of the kitchen with his knife, and said, “Can you be a doll and grab us a red wine from the cellar?” 

You froze for a quick second at the sound of ‘doll’. It was sweet, but the way it sounded from his deep, smooth voice… you cleared your throat again before your thoughts got inappropriate, turning around and heading for the cellar because of course he had a wine cellar. 

After grabbing what you hoped was a nice wine, you made your way back to the kitchen and found Bucky plating pasta into two plates. He had a slight frown on his face as he focused on the plates. If there was anything you had noticed about Bucky it was that he was very detail oriented. 

Bucky’s frown disappeared the moment he looked up from the plates and saw you standing there. “Hope you like pasta and cheese.” He winked with a maddeningly handsome smile. 

“I do.” You smiled back, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you handed him the wax sealed bottle of wine. For a brief moment, his hand brushed against yours and you could’ve sworn it felt like you’d been electrocuted. 

A strange shiver danced down your spine as you took a seat at the table and watched Bucky break the seal, uncork the bottle and pour it into two glasses before pouring the rest into a large decanter. 

All that wood chopping did him good. The man was muscular in all the right places. But his hands… oh his hands. Large, veiny. Imagine those hands all over– 

“So, tell me about yourself.” He said, taking a seat across from you. “And what are you doing on this icy mountain?” 

The conversation flowed perfectly. You told Bucky about how you were travelling to all the places you wanted to see before you moved back home, and he told you all about his life here. He said he liked the peace and quiet. Even the snowstorms, he grew to love them. 

By the time your plates and the decanter were empty, the two of you were laughing and exchanging life stories like you were old friends catching up. 

“So wait,” You chuckled, “You built this entire place out of spite?” 

Bucky nodded, laughing as well. “Well, I guess. My friend Sam came to visit when I told him I bought some land out here and he said ‘Well what are you gonna do here, Buck? You can’t just build a house in the middle of nowhere and become a lumberjack providing wood to the locals.’ and I thought, ‘Wait, that’s not a bad idea’, then I did exactly what Sam said.” 

You laughed, the wine made everything funnier. Bucky’s cheeks were now pink, his lips stained due to the wine and you couldn’t look away from him. Fuck, he really was gorgeous. He must have changed before dinner because he was no longer wearing that tight white shirt. He was wearing loose, beige coloured loungewear and looked just as mouth-watering. His hair was just as messy, but made him look effortlessly handsome. 

You eye-fucked him so more before realising that he was checking you out too, and neither of you had said a word for the past minute or two. But it wasn’t awkward. His blue eyes stared into yours and you were suddenly too aware of the thick tension in the air. 

The way he licked his lips, the way he toyed with the stem of his wine glass, the way his hand–

Bucky cleared his throat and looked away first. You tried to blink away the tension too but it remained. Then Bucky asked, “So, you have a boyfriend or something waiting for you at home?” He gave you a playful smirk. 

Oh? 

You shook your head, “Nope. What about you? You came all the way here to live in seclusion, are you running from an ex or something?” 

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that.” 

That tension came back again, filling the air like smoke. You couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he, given how he fidgeted in his seat. 

This is wrong. Isn’t it? 

He was being kind enough to offer you shelter and you were being inappropriate. So before you did something you might regret, you said, “It’s late. I should head to bed. I drove all day and…” You trailed off, looking away and avoiding his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He said quickly, getting up from his seat. He went to reach for your plate but you grabbed it first. 

“Oh I’ll load up the dishwasher, don’t worry.” You moved before he could stop you, grabbing your plate and then his. Then the wine glasses and everything else. 

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you carefully arranged everything in the rack before turning it on. You washed your hands, and wiped it on a tea towel while turning to leave but Bucky’s heated stare stopped you. 

There he was, leaning against the kitchen island and looking even more yummy than the dinner he made. You were glad you had the tea towel in your hands otherwise you wouldn’t know what to do. 

Luckily Bucky spoke up first, “If I had known you were coming I would’ve made dessert.” 

Such a simple sentence yet it sounded like he’d whispered some dirty, filthy secret in your ear the way your body came alive. You refrained from clenching your thighs together. His voice was lower, deeper but just as smooth and it was driving you crazy just imagining how this man must sound in bed. 

And now you were jealous of all the people who had had the chance of hearing what he sounded like, moaning and grunting, whispering out of breath… fuck. 

“Uh…” You struggled to find your words, now that the image of him naked in bed wouldn’t leave your head, “That’s alright. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth anyway.” 

You didn’t know when you moved, but you found yourself standing closer to Bucky now. He turned to face you completely and there were mere inches between your bodies. You felt… hot. Maybe it was the wine, but you were almost certain it was because of the way Bucky looked at you. Like he’d devour you if he could. You had sensed tension between you and other people before, but it had never been this strong. 

“Shame,” He muttered under his breath, his hand coming up to gently touch your face. “I happen to like something sweet before bed.” His voice dropped to a whisper. 

All you could focus on was the way he was touching your face. Gently, like you were made of glass. His hand was warm, but rough. You let out a shaky breath as you wondered how his rough hands would feel all over you– 

“Go to bed.” He said in a voice that made you tingle all over. He didn’t let go of your face. His thumb caressing your cheek, and his eyes staring into your soul. 

You blinked, wondering if you misheard. “What?” You asked softly, leaning into his touch subtly, obviously not wanting to move. 

“Go to bed, doll.” He repeated, still not letting go of your face. 

You frowned slightly, “But–,” 

He cut you off by placing a gentle finger over your lips. His eyes couldn’t look away from where his finger touched your mouth. He leaned in a little, then said, “We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” You asked, lips brushing against his finger as you spoke. 

He gave you a soft smile and said, “I should be a good host, not seduce you.” 

You shrugged, “Well I’m nice and seduced, now what do we do?” 

He chuckled, leaning in until his nose brushed against the side of your neck. His simple touches were driving you crazy. 

“You know what happens when there’s a snowstorm in this town, doll? It lasts for days,” He whispered, lazily kissing your neck. “And by the time that’s over, the roads are completely blocked. And this is a small town so it takes a while before the roads are functional again.” 

Your heart fluttered, your body felt too hot and yet you shivered. You gently pulled away to look at him. “So you’re saying I’m stuck with you here for days?” You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. 

He caught the hopeful tone in your voice. Bucky nodded. “And if I touch you right now,” He whispered, cupping your face in his large, rough hands, “I’m not sure I’ll let you leave my bed at all for the next coming days.” 

It was risky because as beautiful as he was, you didn’t know Bucky. But you had never wanted someone this much before. This felt like a new kind of longing and need. You didn’t care what was right, ethical, or risky. “Then don’t.” 

That did it. 

Bucky stopped thinking why he shouldn’t and instead pressed his lips to yours, kissing you like he was tasting his favourite dessert. His tongue easing your own as he tasted you leisurely. “We’re sure about this?” He asked, breathlessly. 

“Yes,” You whispered against his mouth, gasping as his hands trailed up and down your body, sliding under your sweater and fondling your breasts. “We are.” 

Bucky smiled into the kiss, then spoke again. “Aren’t I too old for you, doll?” 

You chuckled, your own hands wandering and sliding up and down his muscular back. You wanted nothing more than to just take off that comfy hoodie he was wearing. “Oh, what’s a decade or two?” You murmured. 

Bucky’s hands dropped down to your waist, caressing your skin, fingers threatening to slip past the waistband of your sweatpants. You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. The storm was picking up outside and it would surely drown out all your cries, not that there were any neighbours to hear to begin with. 

“Will you be good for me?” He whispered, kissing down your face as his fingers slowly dipped into your sweatpants. One hand held you at the waist while the other inched dangerously close to where you craved him the most. 

His touch, his words, it was all too much. “I’ll be good,” You replied, your hands sliding under his hoodie to finally touch him, exploring and curious. His body was incredible to the touch, hard muscles and warm skin. 

He finally slipped his hand into your underwear, hissing as he found you dripping wet. He chuckled against your skin as he kissed and licked your throat, “How long have you been this wet, doll?” He asked, sounding cocky. 

You gasped when you felt him sliding a finger inside you, gently. “Since you opened the front door.” You answered honestly. 

Bucky laughed, his warm breath tickling your ear. “That long, huh? I’m sorry.” He cooed, “Let me take care of it for you.” 

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth when you felt him slide another finger inside you, fucking you slowly with both now. Bucky kissed your neck, your face, your mouth. Licking and biting your skin as he pleased while he finger-fucked you until you were right on the edge. 

“Get up here.” He murmured, pulling his fingers and hand away and pointed at the kitchen island. 

You didn’t move immediately. Probably because your brain was all foggy from his kisses and his touch that it took a second for you to register and process his words. 

Bucky smirked and repeated. “Come on. Take your clothes off and get up here.” 

You did as he asked. Taking off your sweater and sweatpants, followed by your underwear and revealing your bare body. Bucky took a second, letting his fingers trail up and down your stomach and chest before he pointed at the island again. 

“Up.” 

You hopped on the edge with a giggle, hissing upon feeling the cold surface against your warm skin. Once sat on the edge, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. Bucky smiled as he placed his hands on you again, your arms wrapping around his neck as you stared into his ocean blue eyes. 

“Such a pretty doll,” He whispered, placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them further apart. He looked down at your wet folds, mindlessly dragging a finger up and down your slit, making you shiver all over again. “Now, lie down.” He said. 

You wasted no time. You unwrapped your arms from around him and carefully laid down flat on your back, hissing at the cold again. 

Bucky’s eyes trailed up and down your body, his hands caressing your skin. From your thighs, to your hips, to your breasts where he pinched your nipples, making you cry out again. 

“Can I taste you, doll?” He asked, pulling your legs up to the edge and spreading your thighs as far apart as they would go. The island was high enough where he only had to bend down for his mouth to touch your heated skin. Lips brushing against your lower abdomen, he asked again, “Can I?” 

Your brain was a mess. Yet you managed to mumble a firm, “Yes…” 

With his mouth mere inches away from your throbbing clit, he said, “Keep your legs up just like that for me, okay?”

You nodded, looking down in between your legs as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against your wetness. He looked up immediately, holding your stare as he slid his tongue against, the roughness of his beard against your softness was driving you insane. 

You held yourself up on your elbows as you watched him eat you out. The warmth of his mouth, the slow caress of his hands against your inner thighs, the intense look in his eyes as he tasted you. It made you feel like you were floating. 

It was too much, it was not enough. You wanted him, you wanted more. 

“You taste sweeter than any dessert, doll.” He whispered, kissing around your wet clit before sucking on it hard enough to make you come, your back arched off the surface, riding his face as you cried out in pleasure. “But it’s not enough.” He admitted, pulling away and kissing his way up your body. “Is it?” 

You barely caught your breath, your heart racing as you laid there in front of him. 

“Get down, and bend over for me.” He spoke in that enchanting voice of his which put you under his spell so easily. 

You moved immediately this time. He was still fully dressed and you didn’t have a single article of clothing on and somehow that made you feel hotter. 

You bent over the island in front of him, your front pressed against the edge. You placed your hands down and turned to look at him over your shoulder. You watched how he grabbed your hips and spread your legs, leaning closer to kiss up your spine. 

“So beautiful,” He whispered against the back of your neck. “Now, are you gonna let me fuck you? Hmm? Are you gonna let me put both of us out of our misery, doll?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

He pulled his hands away from you for a moment, lowering his trousers enough to free his cock. You wished you could see it properly. You wished you could kneel down in front of him and take him into your mouth and– 

You gasped out loud when you felt the tip of his hard, warm cock pressing against you. Nothing mattered in that moment, not when he was gently rubbing his cock up and down your wet slit, parting your folds. 

You squirmed against the hard surface under you, pushing back into him in need. “Please…” You whispered, desperate for him. You had never been this needy for a man before. 

You braced yourself for his thrust, knowing it was coming. 

Slowly, Bucky slid inside you, filling you up and stretching you out as he did. He let out a sigh of pleasure once he was seated deep inside you, gripping on your hips tightly as he gave you both a moment to get used to it. 

You felt so full, like you’ve never been before. So full, you could barely form a coherent thought. All you knew was you wanted more. 

You let out a quiet moan as he started fucking you gently. 

“You feel so fucking good,” He hissed, “So warm and tight for me.” Bucky whispered, fucking into you with a pace that made you want to scream and shout because it felt so good. 

Each time he filled you up, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot and you moaned as your walls clenched around him. 

“Poor little doll,” He cooed, “This will be your new routine for the next few days now. Just getting fucked, and caressed all the time while the storm rages on outside.” 

His thrusts got harder. Your moans got louder. His words made you clench around him even more. 

“Look at you,” He growled. “Pretty girl letting a older man she barely knows fuck her like she’s a needy little whore.” His voice was deeper, and as menacing as his words were his touch was just as soft and careful. His fingers circled your clit gently while he pounded into you from behind. “Would you bend over for any man, doll? Hmm? Whoever offered you shelter from the storm, is this how you’d repay him? By letting him fuck your needy little cunt?” 

You couldn’t help but cry out, moaning in pleasure as his words took you higher. You did have a little bit of a degrading kink, who didn’t? But never had anyone ever hit the spot like Bucky did. And given how your wetness dripped down his fingers, he could tell. 

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Does that turn you on, doll? Knowing that I can selfishly take from you now that you’re stuck here with me?” His other hand came up to grab you by the back of your neck as he whispered into your ear, fucking into you hard enough that your body slammed into the kitchen island with each thrust. “Does it turn you on knowing you’ll have to be my little slut for the next few days? That you’ll have to spread those legs for me and let me fuck you whenever I want to?” 

“Yes…” You whimpered as he pounded deeper into you. You didn’t want him to stop. Ever. 

He hissed into your ear, “Is that what you are now? My little slut?” He chuckled, rolling his hips in a way that had you whimpering and squirming in pleasure beneath him. “Well, what a perfect way of repaying me for my kindness, hmm?” 

“Please, Bucky…” You whimpered. 

Bucky hummed, kissing your warm skin, “I know, pretty girl. I know, it feels good, doesn’t it?” 

His words made you feel feverish, and wild. Lust-drunk more than ever. You moaned as he sped up again, a familiar warmth taking over you, and a pressure building in between your hips. 

You whined, “I’m gonna come.” You cried, and you were pretty sure you had tears streaming down your face. 

“Come for me, then. Come all over my cock, doll.” 

Your brain was a foggy mess after that. You came hard though, clenching around him violently as you did. 

“Fuck… look at you,” He whispered, his cock pounding harder into you until he came as well, spilling all over your lower back as he panted in exhaustion. “You okay, doll?” 

You nodded slowly, pressing your forehead down against the cool surface and catching your breath. 

“Come on,” His voice was softer now as he pulled you up and held you against him. Your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling your neck and leaving soft kisses all over your neck and the side of your face. “Let’s get you in bed, yeah?” 

You asked in a shaky voice, “And then can we fuck again?” 

Bucky chuckled, hugging you tightly before saying, “Yes we can, pretty girl.”

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[scudslut]

Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

[pumpkinbxtch]

sumn about dionysus’s daughter and percy being obsessed w each other irks be in so kind of way, can i req something about it???

I would come back from death for you .⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

— percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader

warnings: none, i think

a/n: ok, here comes my confession. I don't know if this is something that counts as "obsession" as such because there are different types of it. I wanted it to be a more tender or cute obsession. I don't know, maybe I'll explore more but with a darker side.

The emotion was devouring him from the inside out. He knew he would be leaving in a few days, and even though he'd rather fight Hades himself than give his life on a silver platter, Percy couldn't help struggle with the thought of not being in your arms again.

— I'll go with you — you said, even though you knew it wouldn't happen. — I don't mind dying with you if it's the only way to keep us together.

Really, he wouldn't mind too, but he knew he had to keep you safe. Dionysus would never forgive him if anything happened to you, and to be honest, neither would he. You'd stay; that was the right thing.

The best deal he could get for now was to be together as much as possible until the day came.

You didn't say it, but it had become an obsession for each other. barely at night could separate to go to your respective cabins, and of course, not counting those times when you or he would sneak away to spend more time together. Some campers watched, they knew what was going on but still turned a blind eye because who were they to judge? Besides, it suited them to maintain the discretion or Dionysus would truly be in a bad mood, as having Percy Jackson as a son-in-law was enough for him.

That night, you had already turned off the lights, only the moonlight accompanied you, and you let out a deep grunt that turned into a gasp when you heard a knock on your door, you squinted your eyes and then heard two more knocks, three in total.

Obviously it was Percy, and you quickly got up before anyone could see him in front of your cabin. As soon as you opened, he slipped in between the door and closed it by pressing his heel. When you smelled the worn sunscreen on the curve of his neck, you let out a sigh; it was as if during the time you hadn't been together, you had been slowly holding your breath, suffocating without him.

— I missed you — he murmured, squeezing your body a little tighter. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and leaned back to look at you.

— It's only been an hour since dinner, Pers — you said, and he smiled at the nickname taking your hand to walk with you towards your bed. in the end, you were the only one to sit on the edge of it because percy stayed watching your bedside things, fiddling with and looking at your makeup.

— I'm leaving tomorrow — he said, still with his back to you as he struggled to read the label of a lipgloss, the one that suited you so well and that he never feared smudging when he kissed you.

Your heart raced. —Tomorrow? But...

— Things have changed, Chiron told me — Sadness and anger evident in his voice. Percy wanted to set the world on fire with Leo's help just because he hadn't had a couple more days with you. Instead, he took your perfume in his hands and brought it to his nose to smell it. Trying to imprint it in his memory, at least, until he returned and could smell it from your own body where it mixed with thousands of other scents resulting in your characteristic one. The one that drove him crazy.

That idea made him laugh, in fact you were the daughter of the man who could made men crazy with a snap of his fingers, so Percy believed you had done something similar to him, the only difference was that he was happy with it. He would jump blindfolded out of the grand canyon for you if you asked him to.

After a minute, he understood that your silence wasn't exactly a good thing, and he ran his fingers over the other beauty items on your wooden dresser, before turning towards you putting his weight on the dresser.

— Everything will be fine — he was convinced, but the tears threatening to fall from your eyes brought him to his knees before you, so quickly that you held back a sob seeing him on the floor raising his hands to caress your cheeks as if you were something religious that he was worshiping. Her turquoise eyes shone in the moonlight with empathy and they let you know that you had never felt that kind of religious love for which you would die until you had him.

Ugh, you were so in love with each other that it was ruthless to separate you even for just a little while.

You bent down to kiss him, and he stretched his neck to reach your lips desperately, without wanting to lose any piece of you.

—It will take much more than death to keep me from coming back to you— he whispered inches away from your lips, and you smiled because you knew he was serious about that.

With time on your shoulders, you settled on the bed, and he cuddled with you until you fell asleep while he stroked your hair and kissed you on the cheek; you had never felt so safe in someone's arms.

And it was in the morning, just after their last kiss, that your body began to ache for him and his absence. You returned to your cabin, cranky and teary-eyed, looking at the mess he had left on your dresser last night and smiled, recognizing your boyfriend's quirks, but little did you know that all Percy was doing was looking for things he could carry with him during his quest. Things that were yours and reminded him of what he had to fight for.

—Nice hair claw, Percy— Piper joked with a pink spark in her eyes, and he smiled proudly.

Leo dramatically put his hand on his chest and sighed loudly. — Better no one get in HIS – our – way because someone's waiting for him.

“Yeah, better not” he thought.

[dmitriene]

thinking about riding cowboy!price — his muscular thighs are spread wide, shabby pants with slightly shabby leather chaps are pulled down enough to fish his fat, thick cock out, opening up complete freedom of action for you and your greedy pussy, which swallows his bulbous cock down to the base with just your cotton panties pushed to the side to expose your sloppy folds and little throbbing clit, making the fabric dig into your skin slightly as you roll your hips forward with each slap of your plush ass back on his thighs.

there's a pungent smell of tobacco and a strong smell of sweat making you scrunch your nose, especially when john cruelly exhales tobacco smoke from his thick cigar in your direction, but you're more focused on how lightheaded his cock makes you, probing against your womb and hitting your cervix with each thrusts upward, as you roll on him and drag your dripping cunny against his pubic hair, as your dainty hands run against his soft, muscular torso, rubbing against thick dark hair there.

the sounds of your satisfied high moans and mewls is the most satisfying music for price in this messed up wooden cabin, the only thing he likes about this fucked up city is your pretty face and welcoming, tight, warm cunny just for him, as you greedily take what you want in your rhythmically pulsing walls, squeezing around his meaty shaft as he throbs and juts in your cervix deliciously, stretching your warmth to match each inch.

— “hhmm, f— feel's so good, john!„ you slur out drunkenly, letting him know just how good his cock let's you feel as your thighs starts to tremble and go numb slightly, so he takes his turn, grunting approvingly with his cigar between his wet lips so as to free his hands, one warm calloused palm sits just right on your hip, gripping the soft, sweaty flesh beneath thin dress to fuck you on his dick, as another smooths your ribs and up to your jiggling tits, open due to the lowered and pulled sleeves of your soft dress, letting his fingers play with your hard little buds, tugging and rolling beneath rough fingertips.

— “going to feel even better as i creampie this pussy, sweets„ john rumbles out with hoarse purr, just before he takes one last puff of the cigar before quickly pulling it out of his mouth, slamming it against the glass ashtray before bringing his hand back to your rounded hip, squeezing the plush flesh and starting to slam his cock harshly into your sloppy pussy, leaning into your open with delirious mewls mouth and plugging it with tobacco smoke and his tongue, licking into your mouth with fervor as he rearranges your slick, pulsing cunt.

it takes a couple of hard, yet sloppy thrusts, before you both reach your highest as his hand left your tortured, swollen nipple to tug at your hair, tipping your head back as he continued to swallow your moans and suck on your tongue, rough beard scratching your skin as you can't do nothing but scratch his chest in response, slobbering and babbling incoherent — “uh huh — a-ah, ye.. yes, s'good, gonna cum!„ as price let's you cream his fat cock with an arch of your fragile spine.

he lefts your mouth when your cunt starts pulsing and clamping down with a bigger rush of slick and cum, coating his hoarse pubic hair and shaft, strings of saliva stretch from your swollen puffy lips to his, which he licks down, blue irises swallowed with blackness of dilated pupils as he locks how you slide down on his body, your pretty face finding support on his shoulder.

as you arch deeper, presenting your plush ass to the air as his cock spurts ropes of thick seed inside your walls and fat tip presses against your cervix, filling you with warmth till it drips down from your overflowed cunny and his shaft softens, your mind goes blank with just his touch and tart smell in your senses, as john's fingers move from your slightly bruised hip to your ass, dipping to smear his cum against your folds and his cock, raising his hand and looking at shiny, slick mess which brings a wide grin to his lips.

— “wha' a good fucking girl, did so well„ draws his rough smoky voice, and you don't even register it, only a sloppy kiss to your temple and a light pat to your ass, ears buzzing and swallow his last words, which remain silent for you, good for you — “going to keep coming here jus' to breed you, can'' leave such a lovely thing all alone„

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader - Cabin Fever

Content Warnings/Kinks: age gap (dbf!bucky), daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, nipple play, light spanking, masturbation, fingering, cum swallowing, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex

Cabin Fever

The weekend getaway ahead loomed before Y/n like a giant shadow as she drove on the snowy backroads. Was she glad to be spending the holidays at her father’s winter cabin, of course, but was she happy to see his mysterious (and massively sexy) best friend, Bucky Barnes, not so much. The pair had been colleagues for a little while now, since Bucky had transferred to her father’s firm, and Y/n had only met him once before at her Dad’s Fourth of July barbecue earlier in the year. Fireworks had immediately flown between them when they had, causing Y/n to lock down the blooming feeling of romance quickly before it could ruin everything from her father’s perspective of his “little girl” to her own sanity. If she thought for even one second about how much she liked Bucky Barnes and truly wanted Bucky Barnes, she feared she might just crash her car. 

A call came through the speaker of her vehicle then, her father Steve’s familiar voice crackling through, “Y/n?” 

“Dad?” She answered with a light laugh, “Where are you right now a dungeon? Your service is awful” 

“Sweetheart the snowstorm is blocking the highway, I won’t make it up to the cabin until morning, I’m gonna stay at a motel tonight…” he said, his voice sad like he hated to miss out, “It’ll just be you and Bucky for the first night, hopefully, that won't be too much trouble”

“Why would that be any trouble Dad?” Y/n’s voice sounded strained, even to her. 

Her father paused, “I know you don’t like him Y/n—no don’t interrupt me—it’s okay, you don’t have to, I just hope you two can get through the night together peacefully…it is the Holidays after all”

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, “Alright Dad, yeah, I’ll see you in the morning”

When she finally pulled up to the snow-trimmed cabin, she wasn’t surprised to see Bucky’s luxury car parked in one of the available driveway spots. 

“Hi,” she greeted once she stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the crisp December cold and her arms full of wrapped gifts. 

“Let me help you with those” Bucky instantly offered, rushing over to her, their fingers brushing as he took some of the tissue-stuffed bags from her cramped hands and took them over to the tree. 

His eyes flicked to hers and she could’ve sworn she saw his own cheeks tint slightly red above his scruffy beard. 

“How was your drive?” He questioned after they’d arranged them, making easy conversation. 

“Not too bad, well better than Dad’s anyway” she winced slightly before breaking the news, “He’s blocked by the storm, won’t be here until tomorrow morning…it’s just us tonight” 

“You don’t seem so happy about that” Bucky cocked his head. 

“Bucky…” she hesitated. 

“I knew it” he breathed, almost to himself, “I knew you lik—“ 

“I need to take a work call” she blurted, interrupting whatever he was about to say. 

Y/n practically skidded out of the living room and down the hall to the room she’d be staying in for the weekend, that she’d been staying in all her life. Her Dad had luckily switched out her old twin bed for a queen a couple of years ago but that didn’t erase the memories she had here. The colourful quilt laid over the sheets, the rocking chair in the corner. Each element of the space was a comfort to her, especially now as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. 

“Fuck” she groaned to herself. 

~ an hour or two later ~ 

Snow was piling up outside as Y/n stewed in her bedroom, mulling over the situation she’d somehow found herself in. She liked Bucky and was stuck with him for the night but almost worse than that was the fact that he knew she liked him. Her groaning into her pillow was cut off by a small knock on her door. 

“Yes?” She croaked. 

“I’m making hot chocolate…” Bucky’s hesitant voice sounded through the wooden door, “I won’t bother you tonight if you don’t want but I just thought I’d ask” 

With a sigh, she walked over the door, opening it to find Bucky in a slightly distressed t-shirt and light grey sweatpants that hugged him perfectly in all the right places. She gulped, startled as she realized she was literally eye-fucking him instead of answering his innocent question. 

“Sure, I’d like some. Thank you” 

Following him into the kitchen, she found her gaze trailed from his toned figure to the wintery scene outside. The snow was packed almost halfway up the window, no doubt blocking the front door too. 

“Guess we’re stuck inside whether we like it or not” Y/n sighed with a small smile that she simply couldn’t help, causing Bucky to chuckle and shoot her a quizzical look. 

“Yeah” he replied easily, after pouring the hot liquid into two cups, “Here”

“Thank you, Bucky”

“Oh, no problem” he replied and Y/n swore she saw him blush again. 

They sipped on their hot chocolate, slowly draining the mugs in companionable silence. After a while, she attempted to break it. 

“How’s work?” she tried, grimacing at how awkward the question sounded. 

“You don’t really want to ask me about work Y/n” he stated plainly with a small sigh, the heated look in his eye deceivingly telling her exactly what he meant. 

“Bucky…” she strained, setting her mug down. 

“You keep saying my name but never in the way I’d like you to” he came toward her, his large frame instantly consuming the small space of the cabin’s kitchen, “I know you want me Y/n and I’m sure you can see I want you…” 

Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, a small moan slipping out of her mouth at the sight of his hard cock in his cozy sweatpants. 

“Stop worrying about what your Dad might do and kiss me” he challenged, putting it all out there. Her surprise must have been evident on her face because Bucky backed off immediately, “Unless that’s not what you want” 

His sweet hesitance was all it took for Y/n to practically throw herself at him, cutting his words off with a passionate kiss that melted instantly from incredibly heated to perfectly warm like their mugs of steaming hot chocolate. As they kissed, with Y/n’s small groans and whines puncturing each break, Bucky’s hands felt up and down her sides making her skin tingle with need.

“Can I touch you?” He asked before gripping her hips harder and backing her toward the counter’s edge, “And please say I can taste you…”

“Yes, please Bucky, yes” 

He lifted her easily onto the flat surface, shoving boxes of cereal and bags of marshmallows out of the way, until her ass was fully seated on the counter. She pushed herself up slightly so that he could slip off her pants and her panties, moaning as his cold hands slid down her thighs. He sunk to his knees before her, gazing up at her like she was a golden star on top of the Christmas Tree. His beard tickled her legs as he worked his way up, kissing her calf, the inside of her knee, and her inner thighs.

“Be good and spread your legs for me, yeah, let me see that pretty pussy” he hummed at the sight of her as she obeyed. 

He came forward and kissed her clit gently before rubbing the sensitive area with a single finger. He paused, looking up at her from his spot between her thighs, admiring her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. She whined at the loss of contact. 

“You know what I want Y/n?” he cocked his head, pulling away and sitting back on his tucked legs below her before saying in an encouraging yet dark tone, “I want to see you rub yourself for me…Go on”

She spit onto her fingers and began to rub her clit, using them to please herself. Her eyes met his as she caressed around and around her sensitivity, a quiet whimper slipping out of her lips at the sight of his darkening gaze focused all on her. The building feeling made her sigh and throw her head back, a dull thud sounding as it hit the upper cabinet behind her. 

“What if I help you out a little bit huh?” Bucky groaned as if he couldn’t resist touching her. 

“Yes” she moaned, “Bucky pleas—“ 

Her words were cut off by the feeling of his two longest fingers pressing at her wet hole. Her pussy practically gushed around him as he entered her, only pushing halfway. His teasing fingers grazed her insides, curling up inside of her. 

“Keep rubbing your clit baby” he guided her hand back down. 

She obeyed, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the pleasure they were creating for her together. His curling fingers, her fierce rubbing at her clit…she was overcome with intense sensation. Using her other hand she trailed up her chest, acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes following her motion, pinching her nipples in turn until they hardened into two stiff peaks. 

“Good girl” he praised before asking, “You want my mouth?” 

Her small nod was all he needed to push her hand off of her clit and lap harshly at it, never once removing his fingers from her hole. His attack on her pussy was intense and erotic to watch, the sight of him eating her out turning her on almost as much as the actual feelings. Y/n’s thighs caged his head between her legs, her knees moving to sit behind his head, feet resting on his back as he pleased her with his rough, wet tongue.

“Oh fuck” she whispered, her hands gripping his curls tightly as he found the perfect spot. 

“There?” he questioned, his words muffled as he sucked her clit, lapping at it. 

“Yes, fucking yes” 

He chuckled, cool air making her shiver before continuing, licking at the same spot, not right on her clit but slightly to the side, a spot that was nearly as sensitive and pleasurable, until her body gave out and she burst all over his tongue. His large hands supported her thighs from below, hooking his arms over them, pulling her pussy to his mouth as she rode out the waves of her release. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl” he grumbled. 

Moving quicker than a flash, he lifted her up and took her out of the kitchen, leading them all the way to her bedroom. As they moved through the house, Y/n attacked his neck, wet sloppy kisses peppering his tanned skin. He pushed the door to her room open with his side, being careful not to hurt her, before throwing her down on the bed. He stood at the edge, towering over her. Bending over her, his beard tickled her cheek as he continued his trail of kisses on her neck. With gentle pecks he made his way to her jaw, down her to her chest, satisfying the need of her nipples. 

“Flip around for me doll” he commanded then, praising her when she complied, “Yeah that’s it, good girl” 

SMACK. A small spank on her ass cheek made her whimper, the feeling hurting slightly but in the best way. 

“You want it?” Bucky asked, confirming her consent as he pumped himself behind her. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice breathy and full of need. 

“Yes, who?” His tone instantly darkened. 

“Yes Daddy” she whispered like a secret. 

SMACK. 

“Say it like you mean it Y/n” he chuckled roughly, “Like the good little slut I know you are” 

“Yes Dadd—“ 

Her words were cut off by the loud moan that escaped her lips as Bucky pushed into her, pressing the first few inches of him into her wet pussy. She gripped him tightly as her body adjusted to the sensation. He pressed and pressed and pressed until finally, he bottomed out within her. 

“Fuck you fit me so well” 

Bucky’s cock hit a spot deep within her that felt like nothing she’d ever felt before. Her back arched, shoving her ass back into him, making him hit even further inside. His grin was feral as she bounced onto him, her instant rocking movements pleasuring them both. 

“So good Y/n,” he praised, grunting, “Yeah, push back on me baby…Fuck this ass is perfect”

SMACK. 

The pain heated her skin as did the feeling of his eyes on her. She wasn’t even looking at him but she could physically feel the weight of his dark gaze. Grinding back onto him she whimpered and whined, her pussy tightening around him more and more by the second. 

Y/n yelped as she was flipped easily over onto her back. Before she could even get her bearings, Bucky’s thumb was instantly on her clit, rubbing that spot that made her see stars. If she thought she was clenching around him before she surely was now. Between Bucky thrusting in and out of her and his fingers on her sensitive clit, her senses were going into overdrive. 

“Fuck” she whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, “You’re fucking me so good”

Burying his head in the crook of her neck, Bucky moaned roughly, his gruff noises making her wetter and wetter. She writhed beneath him, her body responding to every way he was pleasing her. As she approached her orgasm though, he switched his pace, thrusting slowly, powerfully, and deeply, causing her to tense up around his hard cock. She gripped him so tightly she thought she might just push him out of her by accident. 

“So tight for me—yes, taking every fucking inch like a good little slut” 

“Yes, Daddy, yes” she moaned as he sucked at her skin. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy for so long” he confessed, whispering in her ear, “Ever since—fuck— that fucking Fourth of July party, I’ve wanted to feel you, to be in you just like this…” 

Her eyes widened at his reveal but she was so overwhelmed by the feeling that she could barely speak, she simply whined in response, meeting his assessing gaze as she arched beneath him. The feeling struck her body then, causing her to jerk forward. Bucky held her hips, continuing to thrust in and out of her with long strokes, fucking her completely through her orgasm.

“Yeah that’s it baby, cum for me” 

Y/n gripped his broad shoulders, holding him to her chest as he thrust through her orgasm, bringing on his own. He ground into her as he chased his own release, her hot pussy finally sending him over the edge.

“Fuck” she swore, catching her breath as Bucky rolled off of her. 

“Fuck is right” he chuckled. 

She could swear she saw a tint of red on his scruffy cheeks.

“You really liked me since then? Since the Fourth of July?” 

“Yes,” he admitted, bowing his head. 

She rolled back onto him, planting a sweet kiss on his jaw, then his cheek, then finally on his perfect pout. 

“Talk about fireworks huh?” She joked, making them both shake with laughter. 

[honeyedmiller]

When You Wish On a Shooting Star | Javier Peña

dedicated to my babes @party-hearses and @ilovepedro. thank you both for getting me super excited to write this and encouraging me, always. big smooches to you both.

pairing: husband!javier peña x f!wife!reader

disclaimer: this one shot has elements that are inspired by @inthe-dark-tonight's Whatever's on Tonight getaway trope, and @kiwisbell's Honey-Do married couple wanting to try for a baby trope.

warnings: light alcohol consumption, established relationship (marriage), talks of starting a family, reader is depicted as shorter than Javier, reader's described to have a big family, smut (unprotected piv, praise, breeding kink, fingering, f & m oral, face fucking, making out, pretty vanilla love making lol), no use of y/n, 18+. minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.3k

synopsis: you and javier celebrate your third wedding anniversary at a little getaway.

dividers by the lovely @saradika

“Almost there, hermosa.” Javi brushes his thumb onto your thigh, and you reach down to give his hand a squeeze. 

Your wedding ring glints in the California sun as you head up the mountain to your little getaway in Lake Arrowhead. You were visiting family down in California, deciding to extend your vacation for your three year wedding anniversary. 

Being married to Javi was a dream in itself. He was your best friend, the love of your life, your soulmate. You’d met him at a grocery store back in Laredo, where he happened to help you reach something at the very back of the top shelf. He asked you for your number and took you on a date later that same week, and you both never looked back. 

The scenic drive up to your cabin was none less than breathtaking. Greenery surrounded the hilly road you were driving on, and in the distance, the lake glistened brilliantly under the sun. 

Javi pulled up to the driveway of the cabin, putting the rental car in park. You unbuckle your seatbelt and smile at your husband as he opens the passenger door for you, offering you his hand. You take it and hop out of the car, stretching your stiff limbs that’ve been stagnant for two hours. 

“This place is beautiful.” You murmur, taking in the scenery around you. 

“Not as beautiful as you, cariño.” Javi smiles at you cheekily, pulling a sweet laugh from you. 

“Ever the sweet talker, Mr. Peña.”

“Only for you, Mrs. Peña.” He grins down at you as he rounds to the back of the car to take out your suitcases and the cooler full of food and drinks for the weekend. 

You both take your stuff into the massive cabin, in awe of the sight before you. The cozy living room was right in your line of view as you walked into the house, kitchen right behind it with the dining room table next to the back door that led out to the huge wooden patio. There were floor to ceiling windows in the kitchen, giving you a perfect view of the patio and the trees that surrounded the back of the cabin. The brown leather recliners and couch were strewn with hand-knitted blankets and a quilt with a black bear printed across the entirety of it. Across from the couches was a small fireplace with fresh wood ready to be burned, should it turn too cold. 

Off to the left down a small hallway were two separate bedrooms, a laundry room, and a bathroom. To the right, next to the kitchen and living room, was the master bedroom. You started to walk that way with your bags as Javi set the cooler down next to the kitchen island. 

A California king bed sat in the middle of the master bedroom with a wooden bedframe and headboard. Two nightstands adorned either side of the spacious bed, and right across from the bed was a TV. To the left of the bed was the bathroom that had a double vanity and a long, dark tiled shower. 

The place was more than cozy, perfect for the weekend. You set your bags on either respectable side of the bed, sighing in content. 

You heard the wooden floors softly creak behind you, causing you to turn around and look up at your husband. His thick, dark hair was slightly messy from him running his hands through it a few times, tan skin glowing, and his once sad, dark eyes now glistened with pure joy as he set his gaze on you. You couldn’t help the smile that adorned your lips as he neared you, pulling you flush against his body as large hands gripped your hips. 

He leaned down to softly peck the tip of your nose, your cheek, then your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, hands landing on his sturdy chest as they slid up to connect at the back of his neck. 

He pulled apart from you reluctantly, sighing as he rested his forehead against yours. He rubbed his nose softly against yours, hands moving down to your ass to give it a playful squeeze. You subtly jump in surprise, gasping at his touch. 

“We should start making dinner, mi amor. It’s nearly five.” You suggest, pulling back slightly as your gaze meets his once more. 

“Mm, you’re right, but kissing you sounds so much better right now.” 

You giggle at his advances as you move back slightly while he tries to plant another kiss on your lips. He pouts at you, giving your ass another squeeze. 

“Relájate, Romeo, we have plenty of time for that this weekend. Let your wife make you a good home cooked meal, hm?” You grin up at him, carding your fingers through the thick hairs at the base of his neck. 

“As long as I get to help.” He negotiates, and you nod. 

“Deal.”

-

You both settled on making steak fajitas with rice and pico de gallo. It was a favorite of yours before you ever met Javi, and when you made it for him for the first time four years ago, it easily became one of his favorite meals as well. Spanish music played over the small speaker you brought along, and you were subtly swaying your hips to the beat as you started to cook the steak. 

Javi was chopping the ingredients for the pico before he set the knife down, wiping his hands off on a dishrag on the counter before moving over to you, hands gently resting on your waist. You look up at him and smile, puckering your lips so he’d meet you halfway to kiss you. His lips landed gently on yours before his hands moved to the front of your body, idling on your stomach. His thumbs caressed you gently over the tanktop you were wearing. 

He hummed along to the song playing, bending down to bury his face into the crook of your neck. His hips swayed with yours, lips ghosting your pulse point with a kiss. It was intimate moments like this that still gave you rumbling butterflies in your tummy after all these years of knowing him and being married. Javier had always secretly been a romantic, but he didn’t really  show that vulnerable side of himself until he met you. 

“Mi amor,” Javi said softly, and you hummed in response. “What do you say we start trying for a baby?” His voice is gentle, almost cautionary. 

You halt your movements and look up at him, brows furrowed. “You mean it?” You ask, lips unintentionally forming into that cute pout that Javi loves so much. 

He nods, splaying one hand across your stomach while the other moves up to slot your chin between his index finger and thumb in the gentlest manner. 

“I mean it, corazón. I want to start a family with you. Criar a nuestros hijos en el rancho.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the pure excitement that coursed through you, the thought of having and raising children with Javi and creating your own little family is a dream come true. You grew up in a big family, so you were very clear with Javi before you two even got married that you wanted at least two to three kids. 

“Okay, Javi. Let’s start a family,” You smile as you kiss him twice. “But let’s eat dinner first.” You laugh, and he chuckles as he gives you one final kiss before moving back to the cutting board at the opposite counter from you, a smile on his lips that never faltered. 

You two enjoyed dinner in a comfortable silence, other than Javier praising your cooking skills. You sipped on a glass of wine with your dinner as you both watched the sun set through the tall glass windows, the kitchen and living room basking in hues of gold and orange. It was nightfall before you knew it, and Javier helped you clean up all of the dishes in the sink before you two stepped out onto the back patio. 

There was barely any light pollution, so the stars were crystal clear to the naked eye. You stared up at the sky in awe, gasping when you saw a shooting star graze across the black night sky. You closed your eyes and wished for what you wanted most at the moment: a family of your own with Javi. 

It may’ve been silly to others that you made a wish on a shooting star at your age, but you didn’t care. You’ve always found traditions like that to be special, and if it worked, all the better. 

Javier pulled you in tight to him, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed the crown of your head. You both stayed like that for what felt like hours, but you didn’t mind it one bit. Javi didn’t have to say much in order for you to know that he loved you with all his heart. He was an acts of service and touch kinda guy, so his hands were on you even in the subtlest of ways if he could help it, or he was doing small but kind gestures for you constantly. He rocked you back and forth slowly, indulging in the peace that surrounded you both out here. 

All that was heard was the song of crickets and the wind rustling the surrounding trees in the most miniscule way. 

Eventually, you pulled yourself out of the bubble of bliss you were enraptured in with your husband, pulling away from him as you rubbed his back. 

“Let's go take our showers and put on a movie, yeah?” You suggest, and he nods in agreement before kissing your forehead and leading you back inside. He made sure all the doors were locked up before finding you in the master bedroom, rummaging through your bag for your pajamas. While he was expecting you to pull out the oversized t-shirt of his you claimed you didn't steal back when you two first started dating years ago, he was surprised when you pulled out a satin pink nightgown that left very little to the imagination. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, nearly moaning at the sight as he pictured you in it. 

“Where’d you get this, querida?” He asks as he reaches out to thumb the material, dropping it back down after a couple of seconds. 

“Jessica and I went shopping a couple of weeks back. Told me to get something cute for our anniversary,” You laugh, recalling your cousin practically forcing you to buy the nightgown. “Why, you like?” You wriggle your eyebrows up and down, and Javi smirks down at you. 

“Mm, I love, bebita. Remind me to send Jessica a thank you text.” He chuckles, and you grin shyly as you tuck the material under your arm. 

“Vamos vaquero, let’s save water and shower together.” You nudge your head in the direction of the shower, and Javi tosses his infamous smirk your way. He gathers his things in his hands before setting them down on the sink counter, turning on the shower to a comfortable temperature for you both. You started to strip your clothes off your body, ready to wash the long day away and get into bed. Javier turned around to find you fully naked, and his eyes seemed to have turned darker in milliseconds. 

“Eres hermosa.” Javi murmured, stepping in front of you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“You think so?” You tease, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“I know so, baby. Even moreso when you’re carrying my children.” He presses a hand to your bare stomach, the coolness of his wedding band a stark contrast from the warmth of his body. 

“Guess we better start then, huh?” You tease, playing with the hem of his shirt before sliding it up his torso and over his head. You worked at his belt buckle, tongue darting between your lips to wet them as your concentration was zeroed in on getting the leather material off of your husband’s hips. You let the belt fall to the floor with a dull ‘clunk’, fingers moving deftly to get his jean button and zipper undone. He shucked his jeans off of himself along with his boxers and socks, now fully bare for you to admire. You placed both hands on his chest, lips colliding with his in such fervor. Your hands trail down his chest and torso, nails lightly scratching his tan skin. Your hands moved even further south, coming into contact with the coarse hair that sat right above his cock. 

Javier backed you into the shower, lips never leaving yours. The warm water cascaded down both of your bodies, relaxing your muscles instantaneously. One hand moved back up to Javier’s now-wet hair, while the other gently grasped his hardened length. You gave the silky flesh a few tugs before Javier groaned, separating your lips. 

“Bebita, fuck.” He gasped, jaw falling slack as he squeezed his eyes shut. You looked up at your husband in pure adoration, absolutely loving that you still had such an affect on him. Your touch sent Javier into a damn frenzy, whole body igniting from the inside out and succumbing to you. 

You started by leaving hot, wet kisses on his neck, trailing down to his chest where you gently nipped his skin and soothed the assault with your tongue. You moved down to his torso, kissing him everywhere he had scars from his crazy past chasing Escobar in Colombia. You eventually sank to your knees, still keeping a steady rhythm as you tugged his weeping cock in your hand. You placed soft kisses all around his thighs gently, tantalizingly, in an unbearably teasing manner. You looked up at Javi through your lashes, who was already breathing heavily as he watched you intently. 

A saccharine smile curled onto your lips before sticking your tongue out to lick the tip of his head, salty pre cum glazing it. You hum in delight, wrapping your lips around the tip fully before releasing him once more. You gave his cock a couple of more gentle tugs before licking the vein that ran underneath his thick length, causing him to twitch. You knew exactly what made him tick, how to please him instantly, and what would make him practically beg for mercy. He knew all of those things about you too, so it was a fair trade. You two have explored a lot throughout the years you’ve been together, so knowing what made each other come undone came naturally to the both of you at this point. 

You put him back into your mouth, this time moving all the way down until your nose met the curly, coarse hairs at the base of his heavy cock. You swallowed around his tip as it hit the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes as you tried your hardest not to gag. 

“Just like that baby. Feels so fucking good.” Javi praised, threading his fingers through your wet hair. You moved back up, hollowing your cheeks out as you did so. Javi was panting above you, looking down at you with a nearly animalistic stare. 

“Pretty fucking mouth wrapped around my cock. For my eyes only, baby, nobody else’s. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” His encouragement had you whining around him as you set a steady pace on him. You gripped the back of his thighs as he started to set his own pace, practically fucking himself into your mouth. 

You moaned around him as you rubbed your thighs together, clit practically pulsating with heavy desire and need. You were a patient woman, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on for. 

“Fuck, cariño, I’m gonna—fuck.” He hissed, and you tightly wrapped your lips around his tip as he came, swallowing everything he gave you. He gently pulled you up by your arms and pushed you against the cold tile of the shower wall, causing you to suck in a breath through your teeth. He smashed his lips to yours, kissing you with such a sense of urgency. He kissed you like he’d practically die if he didn’t have your lips on his. His tongue slipped into your mouth, hand moving up to softly cradle your face. 

Your lungs burned and begged for air, but you didn’t care. Kissing the love of your life so passionately was a hell of a way to go. 

“I love you, my sweet girl.” Javi said, panting against you. 

“I love you too, handsome.” 

“Yeah? How much?” He grinned against your lips as his hand slotted itself between your legs, wasting no time as he started to rub your clit gently. You groan at the sensation, hips grinding onto his hand. “Enough to let me put a baby in you? Hm?” 

You whine at his words, nodding feverishly. “Yes, Javi.” Your voice was coarse, breathing labored as his thick fingers kept toying with your heat. He slid his fingers through your folds, completely coating them with your slick before inserting his ring and middle finger into you. You cry out at the sensation, arching your back off of the wall and into him. He wraps his arm around you to hold you and keep you steady as he scissors his fingers in and out of you. 

“Javi.” You moan, nails clawing at his back. He groans your name and kisses your neck and collarbone, nipping at your skin. 

He got down on his knees this time and attached his greedy mouth to your clit, licking and sucking the swollen bundle of nerves as he kept moving his fingers at a delicious pace. He moved his free hand up to cup your breasts one by one, toying with your sensitive peaks as you cried out his name. One of your hands gripped the back of his head, the other holding onto his shoulder as you steadied yourself. You felt your legs start to shake as your orgasm rapidly approached, a hot flame licking its way all through your body. You tossed your head back as you kept chanting Javi’s name like a prayer, moaning loudly as you easily tipped over the edge. Your orgasm came crashing down on you like waves to a shore, your whole body engulfed in the blissful feeling. Your knees buckled under you for a second, but Javi made sure to catch you. 

He was always there to catch you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as he removed his fingers from you, standing up to kiss you on the lips. Javier has been the only man who’s ever been able to make you orgasm every single time you both got intimate, and you joked to him on your wedding night after the reception that that was a reason why you married him. 

Javier took pride in making you feel good. He always wanted you to feel comfortable, and hell, even blissful, especially if he could help it. 

“How do you feel, cariño?” He asks, stroking your wet hair. 

“Amazing.” You breathed, grinning up at him. He kissed your lips and smiled down at you, and you both continued with the rest of your shower. He insisted that he washed your hair and body, you doing the same for him. 

Once you two were all cleaned off, Javier turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, and you, one around your hair and another around your body. 

Javier watched you lovingly as you applied your skincare generously, thinking to himself how lucky he was that you’re his wife. You both brushed your teeth and slipped on your respective pajamas, combing out your hair and climbing into bed. 

“What movie do you wanna watch?” He asks softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You rested your head on him, easily hearing the thrum of his strong, steady heartbeat. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” You said, tracing mindless patterns on his torso. 

He ended up settling with Dirty Dancing. 

About twenty minutes into the movie, his watch started to beep on his nightstand. He grabbed it and looked at the time, noticing it was 12:00 a.m.

“Feliz aniversario, amor de mi vida.” You look up at him with a smile, leaning up to capture his lips into yours. 

“Happy anniversary, Javi.” You rub your nose against his, maneuvering your body so you straddled him. He grabbed onto your hips, rubbing slow circles into your hip bones. You looked down at him with pure adoration, tracing his facial features and the shadows that were casted on his face from the light of the TV. 

“I love you,” You lean down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I love you,” You repeat, moving to kiss his dimple that you adore so much. “I love you,” Your voice is nothing but a whisper as you kiss his ear, nibbling softly on his earlobe. “I love you.” You kiss his neck tenderly, letting your lips linger there for a few seconds before moving your face in front of his to look at him once more. 

“You’re the light of life, baby. I wake up so grateful every day that you’re the one I get to come home to. You’re the one I get to spend the rest of my life with. You’re the one I get to have children with,” He trails off, easily flipping you over so your body is under his. He slots himself between your legs, grinding his crotch into yours. Your bare heat caught on the fabric of his boxers just right, eliciting a strangled moan from your throat. “I love you. Let me make you a mom, please.” He whispers, nosing along your jawline to press a kiss at the spot right beneath your ear. 

You nod frantically, and he easily discards his boxers so he’s left bare once more. He looks down at you, admiring your body adorned in the pink satin nightgown that was already ridden up past your hips, exposing your glistening pussy to him perfectly. 

“So perfect, baby,” He whispers, grabbing his cock as he lined his tip up with your entrance. “You ready?” He asks, though he already knows the answer. 

“Put a baby in me, Peña.” You tease, and he chuckles as he pushes into you. You gasp while he groans, Javier easily sliding to the hilt with how wet you were for him. 

“So fucking tight.” He grits, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds before opening them to look down at you. You smile softly up at him, lips parting as he starts to rock his hips. He’s gentle; a switch up from your normal pace with him. The thought of him making love to you on your anniversary just absolutely melted your heart, but you knew as soon as you got back from your plans in town later on in the day, he wasn’t going to go so easy on you. You liked when Javier was rough with you, but this was a nice change in pace while it was going to last. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into the bottom of his back. “Feel so good, mi amor.” You breathe, focusing on every ridge and vein that was sliding in and out of you. 

“So do you, bebita. Can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re carrying my child.” He drops his head down, kissing you gently. You card your fingers through his damp hair, grinding your hips up into his. You moan into his mouth, cock stretching you so divinely. Even at this slower pace, it made you cry out for him, the push and pull of his cock so heavenly. 

He separated his lips from yours, trailing them down to your breasts. He swirled his hot tongue on one sensitive peak while he tugged at the other, licking and pulling in a synchronized pace with his thrusts. A whine was bubbling in your throat as you tugged on his hair, eliciting a groan from him. 

In that moment, all that surrounded you was your loving husband. The feeling of him on you, in you, the smell of his shampoo, the heat radiating from his body—all elements entirely engulfing you in the man that is Javier Peña. 

You couldn't imagine your life with anyone else. You didn’t want to imagine it. Javier was yours, the love of your life, and the father of your future children. 

Javier groaned your name as you clenched down on him, cunt fluttering as you felt the familiar heat lick inside of your core. 

“I love you, hermosa.” Javi whispered, moving a hand down to your clit to give you that little extra push you needed to come undone. 

“I love you too.” You threaded your fingers together behind the back of his neck, pulling him down once more to kiss him. He swallowed your wanton moans, hips bucking as his pace picked up and his fingers on your clit didn’t let up. 

“Javi, baby, I’m—” You cry, barely able to focus as your orgasm was so close. 

“I’ve got you, bebita, you can let go.” He softly encourages, albeit breathless. 

That white hot ball of fire engulfed your body as a whole, making you clench around Javi’s cock rhythmically. He groaned out your name before kissing you once again, eyes screwed shut as he came undone, his warmth spilling into you. 

He dropped his head to your shoulder as he rode out his orgasm, kissing your skin before moving his head back up to look down at you. 

“You’re so perfect, mi amor.” Javi praises as he slowly slides out of you, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest in one swift motion. You were still dazed from your orgasm, so you just kissed his chest and nuzzled into him, whispering how you loved him and ‘happy anniversary’. You were happy. Content. So enamored with your husband, and this new journey of trying for a baby was nothing short of exhilarating. 

You were just hoping that your wish upon that star would come true.  

tags: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ; @amanitacowboy ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @holesandlividity ; @pamasaur

[miguelhugger2099]

Snowfall

Summary: You, the Goddess of Life, visit the God of Death in the forest during a snowstorm. Next Miguel x Fem!Reader, Proofread but I was half-asleep, Fluff, A smidge of angst, Word Count: 1,458 This song is what caused this fic to form in my brain.

A blizzard had made its way to the village, its cold and harsh winds slamming against wooden cabins and tiny snowflakes that only piled up into mountains by the hour.

However, by his lonesome, stood a man in the forest. A forest that had once been flourishing with soft green grass, and a gentle blue lake in the middle with the sun's warm rays peeking through the leaves of the giant pine trees.

His black coat and black shawl around his head was a stark contrast to the pure white snow on the ground and in the sky. But it matched perfectly with the splatter of blood that tainted said purity.

He bent down, kneeling before the creature that had spilled blood: a baby deer wounded by its ribs. It was shot for food by hunters right before the blizzard hit, leaving them to abandon the animal.

The fawn wheezed softly, its beady black eyes staring up at the man. It weakly twitched, its hind legs failing to push itself up. The baby had squirmed the closer the man approached it with a gentle hand. Despite the cold weather, the man never shivered when a particular gust of wind blew through the branches, making his shawl slip off his head.

He gently caressed its head, rubbing his thumb comfortingly under its eye. He felt an ache for the poor baby, lost and alone in the bitter cold.

The baby had bleated softly, perhaps a cry to its mother before falling limp–marking the end of its life. His frown deepened, flinching his hand back to his chest and standing up again. The soul of the animal ripped itself from the confinements of mortality, stretching its limbs. He watched it flail around in small hops, before staring at him for a moment, its nose twitching and scurrying away to the afterlife.

He then turned his head down to glare at the dead body until a kind voice interrupted him.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Miguel.” He turned around with his eyes widening slightly. He saw you stand a few feet away from him, your usual soft smile on your face. Quietly, he whispered your name.

You wore a white cloak over a warm thick white cotton dress–he assumed with many layers underneath– and a crown made of branches atop of your head. You seamlessly fit into the background of the snow with your outfit. Your hair was the same, perfect as ever, free and let down from any hairstyle. The cold had gotten to you, snowflakes on your eyelashes and you held yourself close to keep a bit of warmth.

You approached him, the crunch of the snow underneath following you. When you met with him face to face, you gingerly reached over to place his shawl back over his head to protect him from the cold even though you both knew he didn't really need it.

“You shouldn't be here.” Miguel worried, fussing over you as he held you by your forearms. “You're supposed to be resting.”

Every year for a few weeks, you would take the time to sleep after a couple of months caring for Mother Earth. Miguel, the God of Death, offered to help you by taking care of Mother Earth while you slept. So instead of flourishing crops, warm sun and bright scenery, Miguel's cold hands left trees dying, more opportunities for illness, and an even bigger chance of death–the season many humans know as winter.

“I wanted to see you.” You smiled at him which made Miguel scoff at your ridiculousness. He took off his shawl and placed it around you to keep you warmer. Miguel stopped you before you could protest.

“You and I both know that I wear these just so the mortals don't ask questions,” He grumbled, successfully wrapping the fabric in a snug manner. Since you were the Goddess of Life, you were more used to the warmth of the sun shining down on you and the blood pumping through your veins and to your beating heart. For Miguel, all he knows is the coldest feeling there is, so a storm like this could never harm him. You stared up at him with adoration before yawning. Miguel pointed it out. “I knew it. Go back to bed.”

Despite his warning you slip past him to stare at the deer that had fallen into Miguel's care. Your eyes glazed over its body, resting a moment longer on the gunshot wound that was still seeping red into the plush snow, the blizzard slowly covering its body in a white blanket.

He stands behind you as you bend down on your knees to kneel beside the deer, nervously awaiting your reaction. “You tried saving its life, didn't you?” You asked, never turning away from the animal. You began petting it gently as if it were still alive.

Miguel frowned, looking off to the side. “I was putting it out of its misery.” You huffed a small laugh through your nose and got up again on your feet. You turned to him again and reached up to cup his cheek. He melted into your hand, the only source of warmth he could ever get the chance to feel. His eyes softened down at you.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Miguel's face hardened again but he did not stray from your palm.

“For what? For killing your creations?”

You sighed. No matter how many times you've had this conversation with him, he always seemed to put himself down. “You don't kill, Miguel.” You assure him.

“My life's work is to kill. It's my duty.” He retaliated, his eyes glancing at the fawn before looking back down at you.

“You think lowly of yourself.” You slip your hand down to his chest. “Your work is beautiful.”

“There's no beauty in death, my lady.” Miguel placed his hand over yours on his chest. You don't feel a heartbeat drumming inside. “It's grotesque and heartless.”

You scrunch your nose, not believing a word he's said. “And who has told you this? The mortals?” You ask. His jaw clenches.

“They adore you and not me.” He says.

“Are you saying you're jealous, my lord?”

“I'm saying what is true,” He says firmly, not wanting to amuse your upcoming antics. “You are beauty. You are perfection. You are divine,” He cups your cheek and you shiver from the coolness of his fingers.

“Look around you. Mortals are struggling to stay warm, to find food and shelter. I've caused this. They…they curse my name,” He comes closer to you, tilting your head up to meet his ruby eyes. “I fear you shine too brightly, my lady.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him. You shake, not knowing if it's from the puff of wind passing by or your heart stuttering in your chest when he inches closer.

“What are you saying, Miguel?” You whisper.

His eyes dart to your lips, stopping the urge to kiss you. “I want to shine with you. But I'm not worthy. Not with the acts I've done. Not with the blood I've spilled alongside mortals and destroying your works of art.”

“Miguel,” Your heart speeds up, quick to calm the self destructive thoughts he's producing.

“My life has no meaning without you. What good is appreciating life if there is no death? You make living precious. You make it sacred. And when the time comes, you make it merciful,” Your other hand comes up to his hair, running your cold fingertips through his strands. “That is your true nature. Whatever humans do to abuse your power is not a part of you.”

Miguel leans his forehead against you, closing his eyes. You mirror his actions, pressing against him and simply feeling him. His hands move around you, bringing you closer by the waist. The wind passes by with a high pitched whistle. “So…warm.” He breathes out softly.

He pulls away from you, bending at the waist to pick up your hand and kiss your knuckles. You feel your cheeks heat up while he looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You must be tired, mi reina. I'll take you home.”

Miguel reaches down to pick you up bridal style. You wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled closer to him despite his freezing exterior. You feel him hold you tightly to his chest protectively as he walks out of the forest to bring you home.

The fawn's dead body lies underneath a pile of snow now, hidden from the world. Its remains will seep into the ground, nurturing the future plants that will grow in its place once the winter is gone and spring returns– the cycle of life and death– an eternal harmony.

A/N: man i fucking love anything to do with gods and goddesses. i might make this a mini series of just snippets of their relationship but ahhhh i dunno if anyone will even like this tbh. i did have fun writing it though

[abibliophobiaa]

right where you left me;

chapter two: can i be close to you?

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut in later chapters; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series (11k words).

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist | previous chapter

——

Those first few days pass in a blur.

You wake, often in Steve’s arms, your bodies coming together like moths to a flame. Like magnets. Neither of you says anything on the matter, merely brushing it off as the typical nature of your friendship.

He readies for the day, you watch him dress and go, and you take it upon yourself to clean up around the cabin in the woods. It’s odd, being that it’s the first time in a few years you have responsibilities like this. If you can call them that. Really, you only want to feel like you’re contributing something to the place you’re currently staying at.

Steve’s been kind enough to uproot his life for you, so it’s the least you can do. And when he comes home later in the evening, he cooks and you sit on the kitchen countertops, talking to him about his day. Soaking up the fact you can spend all this time with him now, without the societal pressures, parties, and social events to weigh you down.

About a week in you decide you want to contribute something. A fact which Steve laughs at, reminding you, “If you’ve forgotten, I want you here. Don’t feel like you need to do that.”

Both of you walk side by side on the sidewalk, him in a sweater and jeans, and you in a pair of newly purchased jeans and a dark knitted sweater. Wind prickles against your cheeks, the puffer vest you’re wearing doing very little to block out the cold. Leaves crunch as you walk, dancing along the streets as people pass on by, kicking them up as they go.

The Hideout comes into view, dim lighting highlighting the ‘Now Hiring’ posted hanging in one of the windows. “It’s like the universe is sending me a sign!” You giggle brightly, hand wrapping around Steve’s wrist like a bracelet, dragging him into the restaurant behind you.

It’s different than you remember. Still that darker interior — all wooden floors, wooden bar, wooden walls. Against the side wall is a sprawling bar top, with steel stools full of patrons sipping on drinks. There are some bent low in conversation, others looking like they’re on first dates, all blushing cheeks and bashful smiles. Others are cheering, wearing jerseys of whatever team they support, likely coming home from a football game.

The dining area is different than you remember too. Wooden chairs around wooden tables, beautiful lighting hanging from above, the room cast in an ethereal glow. From where you're standing you can see families and couples, friend groups and bachelorette celebrations occupying the spaces. Smiling servers and wait staff weave in and out of the aisles, before your gaze swivels to the hostess at the front booth, asking how many in your party.

“Two, please!” you say, leaning into Steve’s shoulder excitedly, giving his hand a squeeze as the woman leads you toward a table near the back of the restaurant, your mind still whirling a bit at how successful Eddie’s place has become. Once seated, you whisper, “This restaurant is insane. Can’t believe this is the same bar.”

Steve nods. “He really did a great job with the place —”

“Says the guy who put together a good chunk of the furniture here,” Eddie teases, placing menus on the table in front of you both. “Fancy seeing you two here. Thought you’d still be holed up in the love shack. Rob's going crazy.”

“I could only take off a few days for the wedding,” Steve reminds him, shoving the older man lightly. “We’re seeing her tomorrow, if you must know.”

“Good, because she’s been parked on my couch the past few nights and Abi and I haven’t had any alone time,” Eddie says with a grumble, but you know there’s no malice there. “Get whatever you want — it’s on the house. My ‘welcome back to Hawkins treat.’”

Eddie moves to leave, but you stop him with a hasty, “The door. It says you’re hiring.”

The man in question turns back around, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes travel up and down your form, a question burgeoning in his gaze, “Yeah, I’m in need of waitresses for the busy season. You keep your tips. Why? Do you need a job?”

You swallow. “I don’t want to mooch off of Steve the whole time I’m here. And I don’t really know what I want to do long term, but I figure I need money to do anything. So…yeah?”

“Then you’re hired.”

Steve grins, but you shake your head. “No, no. I don’t want you to just give me a job. I want an interview, just like anyone else.”

“Okay…” Eddie glances Steve’s way briefly. His best friend only shrugs. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“I worked at a clothing store in Starcourt?” Before it burned down, obviously.

“How long was that for?” Eddie asks, pulling out a free chair and settling in front of you.

“Few months,” you tell him, and then blurt out, “I also babysat for the Sinclair’s for a bit!”

“You babysat the younger Sinclair?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little quieter this time, not quite sure what he’s getting at.

Erica had been nothing but lovely to you in all the time you babysat her; if not quite a bit sarcastic and oftentimes blunt, but given you’ve spent years in the company of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson, it was never anything you couldn’t handle.

“And survived?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods rapidly. “She —”

“Quiet, she’s interviewing.” Eddie raises a hand to silence Steve.

“I…survived…” Your words are quiet, and Eddie leans backward against the frame of the chair, contemplative.

“Abi makes the schedule on Sunday usually.” Tomorrow, then. “I’ll ask her to put you on for Monday, and then we’ll go from there. How does that sound?”

You swallow, a little miffed, brows knit high on your forehead. “That’s…that’s great. Yeah. Monday is good.”

He claps you on the shoulder and ruffles Steve’s hair, grinning at a server that passes by as he shoves his chair back into place with a loud screech against wooden floors. And then he’s off, leaving you to stare across the table at Steve, trying to hide the smile that creeps along your lips at the realization of what just happened seconds ago.

“So…” Steve takes a sip of his drink, grinning ruefully, “that happened. How are you feeling? First job in a few years, yeah?”

“I…I have a job.” Steve bursts out laughing as you nearly topple over the table in pursuit of wrapping your arms around his next. “I have a job!”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding a hand over the small of your back, grinning into your cheek. “I'm so proud of you. Think we should order a bottle of wine and celebrate a bit?”

That’s exactly what you end up doing.

——

In the mornings, you and Steve share coffee and breakfast. You’ll take turns cooking. Some days he’ll wake you with coffee in bed, Garfield lounging across your thighs. Others, he’ll stumble into the kitchen, eyes bleary and in search of the coffee pot, while chocolate pancakes cook on the stove.

Those mornings are your favorites, because you’ll often hear him murmuring to himself how much he loves you — and you try to deflect that feeling that crawls up from deep within you, the part of you that craves for him to mean it in the sense that he’s in love with you.

Later, he parts for work and you ready yourself for shifts at Eddie’s restaurant. Which is a learning curve, to say the least. Abi, Eddie’s soon-to-be wife, only laughs as you drop another plate filled with water cups in the back, landing on your butt in the process. A huff pours out of you, just as some of the cooks grin your way, offering condolences for your likely bruised tailbone, and Eddie’s head pops into view, all the dark curls that resist staying put in an elastic spilling around his face. He’s grinning but you’re frustrated, on day seven of utterly making a mess of things.

“It’s really not that bad,” Abi reassures you later that afternoon, your apron draped over your shoulder, punched out for the day. There’s a glass of wine in front of you, but you haven’t really had any of it. “It takes time. You’ll get it.”

“It shouldn’t be this hard.”

And yet it is. For years you’ve lived a life of luxury, shuttered away from society. Work was some lofty idea, left behind after you fled Hawkins. You want to pick up on things, want to be good at them, to make Steve proud. Yet you still struggle, still find yourself doubting your capabilities, wondering what it is Eddie saw in you when he hired you.

That night, Steve and you sit around the coffee table in his living room. You’re wearing a pair of cozy sweatpants and an equally comfortable hoodie and he’s there in that yellow sweater of his you told him to never get rid of. The one that has some holes in it now around the edges, but looks great on him all the same. A puzzle rests on the table in front of you both, the pieces scattered all around the wooden surface. Garfield snoozes on Steve’s lap, curled up onto a tight ball, his purring mixing with the crackling of the burning fire mere feet away.

“I’m proud of you,” Steve says, sipping at the beer on a coaster in front of him. The label is long scratched off, condensation dribbling down in little rivulets against the glass. Confusion pricking, your head tips to the side. “Eddie says you’re doing well at the Hideout.”

“He’s lying to you,” you deadpan, pushing another edge piece into place. “I’m struggling. But Abi says it just takes time. It’s definitely not like working at my old clothing store over at Starcourt.”

An edge of darkness flitters across Steve’s features at the mere mention. It shudders and ripples in the spaces between the two of you. Neither really talks about it all that much, especially now that he and you both had been in extensive therapy for it. And even then, the remembrance stings a bit. The reminder of what that day meant for your friend group. Hadn't then at all really to your detriments, when everything happened as it had. Instead you’d both pushed it away and hopped into Steve’s car some days later, with nothing but a map and some money pooled between the two of you.

But it had been enough. It had been everything. The road. The warmth of summer. The escape. The boy.

Steve’s not a boy now. Hasn’t been for a while, you realize, sitting there and peering into those hazel eyes that almost look like molten honey when the fire dances within their swirling depths. Your fingers reach over and twine with his. Just as they have countless other times, just as they always do. Seeking him. Craving the nearness of him. Comforting him, but also yourself.

A cheek of his twitches. Curls a bit with the softest of smiles. Steve Harrington’s smiles are your favorite. Have always been. They’re the kind that a picture can’t capture, an artist can’t form the likeness of. The only way to contain them is to see them, to bottle them up, to store them away in your heart. Sometimes, when you were younger, you imagined they were special. Meant only for you.

Still do now, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Nothing is quite like working at Starcourt,” he teases, diverting to humor. You wince a bit at it, fingers around his twitching lightly. “Not everyday someone gets possessed, and you get abducted by Russians, huh? Bet the Hideout will feel like a walk in the park soon in comparison.”

“I hope so,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. “I just don’t want to sit around while I’m staying here. Maybe I’ll…start saving up for my own place? For the time being, at least.”

“Or you could just stay here,” Steve says evenly, free hand stroking over Garfield’s fuzzy head, “I did say you could stay as long as you like. I didn’t just say that to say it. I like having you here. It feels…normal. It feels good. Really good.”

There’s a little rasp to his voice. A brokenness that clings to the edges of his speech. Your fingers tighten further, crawling up onto your knees to settle down at his side, shoulder bumping his as you reach over to place another puzzle piece down in the proper position. He leans his head against your shoulder, forehead shaking back and forth against the fabric of your clothing, and you just know he’s smiling without even seeing his face.

“Okay, okay. But the moment you get sick of me I’m giving you permission to kick me out —”

“Won’t happen,” he assures you, chuckling a bit.

“How can you be so sure?”

“For one, I’ve known you for years already. You clean up after yourself. You’re crazy loud, but we match each other in that, so it’s fine. You’re not bad to share a bed with — although you go all starfish on me in your sleep —”

“I do not!” you exclaim shrilly, cheeks burning up at the notion.

“You do,” he laughs, dragging you closer to him with an arm around your shoulders, “woke up with your drool on my chest the other day.”

“Yeah, because you’re a human furnace!”

“Doesn’t seem like you mind, seeing as you end up on top of m —” He pauses, the puzzle piece you playfully threw at him bouncing off of his cheek and onto the floor with a clatter. Garfield scampers off to eat, likely rolling his eyes at your antics as he goes, the sound of his collar bell jingling drowning out the silence in the room. “You just threw a puzzle piece at me.”

“I did just throw a puzzle piece at you,” you repeat slowly, bursting out into loud, shrieking laughter as Steve rolls you over onto the blankets scattered beneath him on the floor, body caging yours in place.

His fingers twitch along your sides, your body writhing and rolling beneath him, a frantic jostle of your stomach that has his face crashing into your shoulder, his smile warm against the skin of your collarbone.

You’re children again, you think, as your fingers slip under his sweater and pinch at his sides, earning a loud howl from the man. “Geez, not the pinchy fingers.”

“Mercy?”

“Mercy,” he pleads, his fingers pinning your hands at your sides, chest rising and falling rapidly in a direct mirror to your own.

“You look different from this angle.”

As in, your blood heats with it. Heart clangs at the proximity of your hips in relation to his. The way your mind itches and races to know what he’d feel like if he lowered himself a bit, the cradle of your thighs a home to him. He’s breathing heavy, his laughter joyful on your ears, eyes dark as they clash with yours.

“Different how?”

“Not a bad ‘different.’”

Not at all. He looks older now — is older now. His clothes fit differently now. He’s always been fit from basketball and baseball throughout the years. But he fills out his shirts and sweaters differently now. His chest broader, the stitching on his sweater hugging his biceps as they ripple around you — as you’ve seen them in the days since you’ve come back to Hawkins. Working as a carpenter seems to have had its benefits, and you try to not dwell on the fact you’re reaping them now.

His hazel eyes slide over your form searchingly. His chest still rising and falling as your fingers pinch in the yellow sleeve of his sweater, pulling at a thread that spills free from a stitched seam. The sudden shift of your form has your back flaring, right in the middle of your shoulder blades, a wince crossing your features before you can mask it. Worriedly, Steve rolls over onto his side, asking, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

No. Never. “No. Just…not used to carrying as much as I have the past few days, it seems. Pretty sad, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at your self-deprecating remark. Sits up against the couch so his back is against it and pats the ground between his thighs. “Come here.”

“What…?”

“Come here,” he repeats, a little impatiently.

You return his eye roll with one of your own, clambering up and off the ground and into the space between his thighs. There’s little time to worry about the proximity of your spine to the muscular wall of his chest before his fingers are pressing into the curves of your shoulders, rubbing at the tensely corded muscles there.

It’s easy to relax like this. Can’t really think of a time when you last felt so relaxed. Usually you’re under the judgemental stares of dozens of eyes. Those who think they know you, understand you, and yet don’t. Defined by a name you had no name of being born to. It was only by circumstance. But you’ve always felt like yourself around Steve. No need to put on airs, to hold yourself to a certain standard, to lift your head a certain way or say all the right things.

He’s only ever wanted the fullest version of yourself. Probably has been one of the only people to ever understand you in the way you wished others did as well. For years you wondered if people knew you, really knew you, they wouldn’t like what they saw. But sitting here, in this cabin, with this man? You realize you don’t even care. Throw away the rest of the world, and leave Steve behind, and you’d have everything you ever wanted.

“Does this hurt?” he asks, thumb swiping along the top of your spine, right at the dip below your skull, before swiping in an arch along each curve of your shoulders. “I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-no,” you sigh, languid against his frame. “Although, I’m feeling mildly jealous of all those who may have benefited from a massage by Steve Harrington.”

A chuckle rumbles against your back. “Only you, really. In case you forgot, Eddie got me a cat to keep me company.”

A part of you, a very selfish part, rejoices inwardly over his confession. A little victory dance, sending giddy sparks throughout your bloodstream. That giddiness burns molten as Steve pushes the neck of your oversized hoodie down a bit, fingers wrapping around the fullness of your shoulder, tips of them dipping below your collarbone.

It’s a not at all sensual touch — and yet it has heat pooling between your thighs, has you biting back a quiet moan that inches up your throat, reminding you of the mere fact that it’s been a couple of years since being with anyone sexually coupled with the fact you’ve spent the past few days pressed up against the only one you’ve ever been in love with at night.

That’s all it is. The only thing that has you melting further against him, humming pleasantly as elusive sleep tugs you closer and closer into its comforting embrace. After a while, you’re not sure how long really, Steve’s arms start to slide around your waist, his chin against your shoulder, the sound of his comforting breathing a welcoming metronome against your ear. Your fingers reach up and slide into the holes of his sweater, brushing along the dark hairs you know line his forearms, lulling you and him into further rest. To anyone else, you know what the scene looks like: two people, intimately knowing one another, cuddling. Broken away from the rest of the world and into one of their own. To you, you know it’s another normal afternoon with the man.

And yet, your eyes lock with the dying embers crackling in the fireplace, wondering if it could ever be different. If only one of you were brave enough to broach the conversation, to see if the feelings are reciprocated, if now is finally the time to take a chance. A leap. To dare to dream a little. A silly, childhood dream that seems so insurmountable. Still, you crave it more than anything else.

You breathe in deeply, Steve’s arms tightening around your waist. His heavy, rhythmic breathing lets you know he’s fallen asleep now. Your fingers stroke along his arm again, a comfort to him but also you, and you finally close your eyes.

You rest, that question in your mind dying with the firelight.

——

“Monster Mash” blares from a speaker somewhere in the distance. Drowns out the chatter of those downstairs as you put on the finishing touches of yours, El’s and Max’s Halloween costume.

“Wednesday Addams again?” Max muses, pointing to the costume you managed to put together in a couple of hours, not knowing until the last minute you were going to a party to begin with. You’d also been Wednesday the last time you’d been living in Hawkins for the holiday.

You’re presently smudging red lines near the bottom of her jaw, adding little droplets of blood when and where needed. El is beside her, looking very much like a mummy.

“Hey?” Steve appears in the doorway. The hottest Danny Zuko you’d ever seen. You’d never admit that, though. “I don’t mean to interrupt but, uh —”

“Just finishing up,” you tell him softly, smiling appreciatively at the way his eyes roam your form swathed in black, “we’ll be down in a minute.”

Steve smiles and jogs down the stairs, leaving you standing in the bathroom once more with the girls, chewing on your bottom lip and likely smudging the dark lipstick you’d slapped on.

“I guess some things never change,” Max adds, beaming mischievously when your fingers stutter over her jaw, “still pining over Harrington.”

“I do not pine!”

“You pine,” Max giggles, blue eyes sparkling in her mirth as they glances to El for support, “She pines, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” El mutters, a bit more shyly than her best friend, “you pine.”

“Well I didn’t take Max Mayfield and El Hopper to be gossips,” you snark, dabbing a little red lipstick on Max’s pouty lips, voice taking on a higher pitch.

“It’s been, what? Almost ten years of you pining after him?” Max wiggles her shoulders, smirking when you glare at her.

“You were practically an infant then,” you balk, cheeks burning along with your chest, “not even in Hawkins.”

“Yeah…but…” El begins, tucking a hair behind her ears, “it’s kind of…obvious?”

“You two are lucky you’re my favorites of the children.” Though now, with them graduating this year, it feels weird to call them that.

“He pines too,” Max adds. “Right?”

El grins. “Definitely.”

“Is that so…?” You grin, a little rueful, hope blooming in your chest. “Tell me m —”

“Well look at this little band of creepy folk,” Argyle drawls from the doorway, shiny hair falling down around him in a halo, his Michael Myers mask dangling from his hand. “Don’t wanna interrupt this little gathering, but you know…”

——

As the Halloween buzz dies down around work and town, the frigid streets become full of the changing seasons. Leaves fall everywhere you go. Bursts of orange, yellow, red and gold swirl around busy side streets, packed with those investigating local farmer’s markets and slipping in and out of family owned businesses to purchase gifts to get ahead of the holiday season.

The Hideout becomes busier in those weeks. Countless patrons fill your stations, back screaming and head spinning by the time you end your shifts. That day in particular, you stand behind the bar with Abi, chugging down a glass of water she poured you before stripping your apron from around your hips.

“Did well in tips, it looks like,” she points out, gesturing to the wad of cash you promptly stuff into the pocket of your jeans. “Told you you’d get better.”

It also helps that you had multiple larger parties that evening, all of which were more than happy to pay a little extra once they’d gotten a second and third round of beer in them. Though you didn’t really appreciate the way one in particular had slipped his phone number, writing ‘for a good time call.’ You’d chucked that into the garbage with a huff, making sure to toss a wide grin over your shoulder as they later slipped out of the restaurant and he waggled his fingers near his ear in the shape of a telephone, as though you were going to run home and reach out.

“I told Steve I was going to make us dinner since he’s working late on a job, so I’m going to head out.” You huff out a breath, staring up at the clock that reads seven. “Though I think I’m going to need to grab caffeine. I don’t think I sat down once today.”

“Get out of here!” Eddie shouts, sneaking over to loop an arm around Abi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple. Something like longing bubbles up in your stomach at the sight, the craving for what they have simmering with it. “Or else you’re fired. You’ve worked late every day this week. If you get sick, that’s on you.”

“Fine!” Your hands wave in front of you in defeat, waving to the two of them as you slip out the front doors of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

At this time of evening, those wandering the streets are quieter. Bags full of goodies from their excursions. You tug your jacket tighter to yourself as you slip on by, waving to those who have started to become normal faces once more over the weeks in Hawkins. They wave back, grinning like they used to. Greeting you like you hadn’t been gone for three years.

It's strange to think of being gone now.

Strange to think of leaving again.

You find you don’t want to leave again.

And fortunately, no one from home has tried to make an effort to bring you back to the city kicking and screaming. Part of that is by design — leaving no way for them to contact you in the first place. No one knows you’re staying with Steve. No one really even knows where Steve is these days, given he’s not been in contact with his family since they left in 1986 as it is.

You want to keep it that way.

Smiling to yourself, you slip in through the front door of Hawkin’s Brew, a little family run coffee shop that sits a few doors down from your job, smelling like cinnamon and spices, and the freshly brewed coffee you can see percolating over the countertop.

A new barista lifts her head up over the counter. All wavy blonde hair that reminds you of a mermaid and sparkling green eyes around a pair of thick lashes anyone would die for. Gorgeous, she’s absolutely gorgeous and you definitely would have remembered her face if she’d been there before.

“Hiya!” she greets, beaming widely, revealing a glowing set of white teeth that flash in your vision. “You look confused. My mom, Mary Jo, is usually here with my dad. But mom wasn’t feeling well, and I’d finished up at the preschool, so I’m here to help. I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Lucy!”

You offer your name and a soft ‘hi,’ still a little startled by the exuberant greeting. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Sorry to hear about Mary Jo. I hope she starts to feel better soon.”

Lucy leans her elbow against the counter, and you can’t help but admire the cream colored chunky knit sweater she’s wearing with a flowing skirt to finish off the look. It looks effortless on her.

“What can I get you today?”

“A hot coffee, cream two sugars please,” you tell her, and she gets to work behind the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Steve’s truck he uses for work, the back full of leftover lumber.

“Oh, Steve’s here?” Lucy says, sounding a little faraway. Contrast to the ball of excitement she’s been since you walked in. “You know, he’s a confusing one, that guy.”

“Is he?” You laugh, watching as he rummages around his front passenger seat.

“Ever since the earthquake, he’s been giving up so much of himself. Charity, taking up the basketball team at the high school, helping out around town. Did you know he helped my parents build a shed last summer? By hand?” Her voice trails off, and that smile of hers grows once more, like she’s stuck in a far off memory. “And he’s handsome. Single. Yet he doesn’t date. Not really. It’s so…strange? But whoever he marries — they’re gonna be a lucky one.”

“Yeah…” Your brows furrow at her words.

Steve, your Steve, is something of a hero to these people. He’s your hero too, but it twinges in your chest hearing it from someone else. For so long he’d been yours, but now, it seems, he’s needed around here. Admired. Loved. And you’ve missed so much of it in running away. Time you’ll never get back.

He’s changed. You just never realized how much. An ache builds in your heart, wondering if maybe you’re too different now from who you both were years ago.

The man in question hops out of the vehicle, fingers carding through his hair as he gazes into the coffee shop, immediately lighting up when he sees you.

“Do you know him?” Lucy asks, voice raising in pitch as she hands you your coffee and you toss your bills onto the counter.

“Yeah,” you say, sipping at the coffee, “he’s been my best friend for years. I’m staying with him for the time being, actually.”

“Oh!” Lucy perks up, chewing her bottom lip. “So you’re the one he’s so —”

As your mouth opens to ask what Lucy means, Steve walks in. He immediately commands the attention of the shop, both yours and Lucy’s stares drawn to him as he slides an arm around your waist and tugs you against his side, oblivious to what he’s interrupted.

“I was going to grab you some coffee,” he says, fingers squeezing a bit at your side. He notices Lucy then. “Hey, Luce.”

Luce.

Familiar.

Jealousy burns. You try to tamper it down, to pretend the unspoken words between them don’t matter to you. But there are a thousand new questions that burn in your mind, with no words or standing to ask them.

Lucy waves in greeting, those pretty green eyes of hers glimmering in the moonlight spilling in through the front windows of the shop. “Always good to see you, Steve.”

“You too,” he agrees, head lowering closer to yours as he then asks, “Ready to head out?”

He’s leading you to the door, and you spare a glance over your shoulder to the woman you’ve just met moments ago. There’s a look you can’t quite place on her features, a furrow of her brows, a slight downturn to her softly parted lips.

You wave your goodbye, and try to push all of whatever that might have been into the depths of your mind.

——

Steve tosses and turns behind you. A fitful rest that has you rolling over onto your side, fingers brushing along the clenched planes of his cheeks. You can practically hear his molars smashing against one another, can feel the rapid thump of his heart in his chest as your fingers splay against his sternum.

At the touch, his face softens in the slightest. A low moan pours from him, a whine of ‘no, don’t’ cleaving your heart right down the middle.

“Steve?” It’s a whisper. A plea for him to come back to you in the waking world. He reaches out in his sleep and clutches at your tee shirt, clutching the fabric tight. Another whine. A whimper of a cry. “Steve, I’m here. I’m here.”

Sweat pools along his skin, despite the chill in the air. The tips of your fingers press to his forehead, running along the wrinkles forming high up on the skin there. His name is a whisper over and over again on your lips, a soft beckoning into wherever his dreams have taken him — a tether for him to grip onto, if only so you can reel him back in.

You’re no stranger to nightmares. They plague you, too. Dark, weaving things that sneak into your mind at night, tendrils clinging to the innermost workings of your mind. That day at the mall, watching as that monster loomed, dark and imposing in a colorful explosion of light. Billy, being ripped into over and over again. The spray of black blood, the cries of Max. The moments that came after, where Steve practically demanded an EMT to look over your ribs, despite the fact there was nothing one could do if they were broken anyway. And then there had been those images on the news — of classmates fallen to Vecna. Memories of the splintered down, the gaping holes in the earth, the spaces where many had disappeared into. Endless faces of the lost, declared dead or missing.

So much turmoil. More than some kids and teenagers were ever meant to see in a lifetime.

“Let go!” Steve shouts into the night, rolling over again so his back faces you.

“Steve,” you whisper, running a hand along his spine, “it’s me. Come back to me. I’m here.”

He rolls over again and his eyes open, locking on your features. Broad palms come up to cup your face, forehead descending upon yours. He mutters your name a little brokenly, moving to press his head into the space beneath your chin, arms looping low around your waist.

“I’m here, Steve,” you remind him.

There for one another, as you’ve always been.

In a world where people come and go, where you can’t rely on anyone, he is your rock and you are his.

“Shhh.” Your fingers thread into his hair, smoothing the messiness left in the wake of his endless tossing and turning. His breathing tapers off. Slows. Starts to deepen. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But you fear the day he may no longer need you.

——

Steve’s…liked by most. Sought after. Desired. He’s popular, in a way that you’ll never be. With his friends, with his teachers, with women. Though he was your first kiss, you’re not even delusional enough to believe he’s only saving his lips for you.

He doesn’t do relationships often. He goes on dates and you watch him from afar. Can see the glow of his bedroom window, the hurt that burns like a knife when he sneaks a girl in while his parents are gone. Your curtains always shut when they kiss, when things start to feel like a betrayal to the foolish unrequited feelings you harbor.

It becomes a thing. Wishing and wanting your best friend as he loves everyone else around you.

Luckily, they’re always short dalliances. Flings. Dates that lead nowhere. And even though it hurts, there’s some comfort in the fact these things never last long.

That is, until Nancy Wheeler steps in. And you make yourself scarce. She’s smart and lovely and beautiful. She’s everything you could ever want for Steve — and she’s not you.

Just like everyone else he sneaks into his bedroom.

Because why would Steve Harrington ever look your way like he does theirs?

And therein lies the problem.

——

A month. You’ve been in town nearly a month and things are more or less exactly as they’ve always been. Platonic and full of yearning. At least, on his part. He’s not quite sure what to make of your feelings lately — and he’s never been one to push the envelope with you.

He needs a sign. A sign from up above or something just to show him that all his efforts have not been in vain.

It comes that afternoon. Sweat pools along his chest and stomach. Along his back as it ripples with each swing of the ax, splitting piece of wood after piece of wood. The plaid shirt he wears is long unbuttoned, stomach fully on display as he pauses a moment to reach down and sip some of his water set on a wooden stool nearby.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack.

He’s so caught up in the monotony of the task, the methodical way he swings down and splits the wood, that he fails to hear your arrival. Only notices your form out of the corner of his eye, hiding behind a tree.

Or, at least, it looks like you think you’re hidden.

He can see the way your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers covering your heart, like you’re terrified he’ll hear it. The boots on your feet are pinched tight together, likely having stopped abruptly once you noticed you could potentially be caught.

And there’s that bottom lip of yours, tucked between your teeth. Biting back any noises that might slip out.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes trail along his abdomen. How they linger on the newer muscles there, hewn by countless hours spent working as a carpenter. You look downright guilty — like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

He adores it.

“I don’t mind if I have an audience, you know?” He muses, grin growing wider as you stumble a bit in the leafy pile at your feet.

His amusement grows as you tilt your head up to the sky, as if searching for something. Unfortunately for you, it’s a cloudy day, and there is nothing to see up above other than an endless gray sea.

“Steve…” you warn, still not meeting his eyes.

You’ve always been endearing. Sweet, in a way he finds adorable. And this sudden shyness when you’re typically so sure? It reminds him of those moments when he first kissed you, all those years ago. Your heart was like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest that evening, fingers trembling against him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

“Here,” he chuckles, walking over to curl a hand around your wrist and putting you out of your misery. He walks you over to where he’s splitting wood, “wanna try?”

“I mean, sure. How hard could it be?” you tease, back stiffening as he slips in behind you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against the curve of your spine before relaxing into him.

He’s already placed a new log on the block, the rest of his split pieces lying on a rack near the side of his home. Wide palms come to wrap around your hands, sliding them into place on the handle of the ax. One near the top for grip, another near the bottom for powering through the stroke. “Grip it nice and tight. Both hands.”

“Okay, like this?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and his breath immediately hitches. Throat cleaning, he gives your shoulder a quick squeeze and steps back a little.

“Spread your legs a little. Shoulder width apart. Yeah — just like that.”

You’re a little sheepish as he steps over to the side, trying to put enough distance between you and him to feel safe enough. A cold breath puffs out of his lungs, the cloud billowing in the air before him as you glance down at where your hands are firmly grasping the handle, deep breaths to center yourself echoing in the forest.

“Now you’re going to pick a point on the wood and focus on it, raise the ax and strike through, focusing on that spot.”

“Sounds easy enough,” you nervously murmur, doing exactly as he instructed, the ax rising above your head.

As you swing downward, the ax wedges into the wood, and you stumble to the ground, kicking up leaves as your bottom slams against the forest floor. Steve stumbles forward to check if you’re okay, but when your sides start trembling with uncontrollable laughter, his face breaks out into a grin.

He loves you, and he aches with it. More — now that you’re living with him.

“Guess you don’t want me helping you on any jobs, huh?”

A couple days later, however, you do exactly that.

Mr. Gerry Jones is an older man in town, and in desperate need of a new paint job for his living room before he tries to sell his home. Steve agreed to help weeks ago, and when his partner comes down with the flu, decides to ask you if you want to come along. He finds you laying on the couch that morning with a book, and he hardly expects you to say yes with the amount of hours you’ve been working at the Hideout, but you quickly jump to attention with a nearly shouted ‘yes.’

Now you sit beside him on the floor, admiring the freshly painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before starting the next one. You’re wearing a pair of overalls, a ratty old tee shirt tied up beneath, revealing the curve of your side, a patch of skin that Steve’s been trying to not stare at for the past few hours.

His heart clenches as your head tips over your shoulder, a little splatter of olive colored paint across your cheek. Reaching out, he cups your cheek and wipes it away, warming as you lean a bit into his touch.

Neither of you dares to acknowledge the tension burning in the room. The way it feels like time seems to slow to a halt when you’re there, shuffling up onto your feet, moving over to the next wall. Steve only talks. Begins prattling on about anything and everything, trying to keep himself distracted from the feeling swirling in his gut — the desire that has only grown every day to see what might happen if he just dared to try. To close the gap between your lips and put to bed all the questions.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gazes ahead, mouth dropping open when he asks about what your relationship with Clark was like — in what feels like an attempt to torture himself — and you utter that you’d never really done anything with him.

“Or anyone…for that matter,” you add slowly, your bottom lip pushing between your teeth, voice a little quiet.

“Like…?”

“I’m not a virgin, Steve,” you bark out, eyes rolling a bit in your skull. “But I’ve really only been with one guy. And it wasn’t even good or anything.”

“You’re joking.”

“Steve.”

“I’m not making fun. I’m just…”

“Shocked at how pathetic I am?” you drawl, taking a step backward. Away from him.

“No — I just —”

“It’s not like the movies either. All of the explosions and fireworks.” You frown, and Steve grimaces at your words. At the sadness lining your features. “I just — I don’t know. It wasn’t like how you’d always talked about it. We barely even kissed during it and I didn’t…”

“Honey…” he sighs, taking a step forward. “Clearly, he wasn’t the right guy. The right guy would have made it extra special, because you’re special, and definitely would have made sure you finished before he did. And I’m sorry but he didn’t deserve you, because you deserve all the explosions and fireworks.”

“Yeah?” You sound so hopeful, eyes a little narrowed, mouth parting softly.

“I mean…hypothetically…” he steps a little closer.

He catches your slow swallow. The way your chest heaves on a breath, eyes trailing his form. Heat burns in the atmosphere as your eyes narrow a bit, staring at him like you had in the woods. Appreciatively, and not at all like a friend. How long had he missed those looks? How long had he not noticed the slow simmering desire beneath the surface? Suddenly he’s back in that closet and a teenager again, only now instead of your jean shorts, his finger curls into the pocket of your overalls, chest brushing yours. Cornered, your back bumps against the presently dry wall behind you.

“If it were me —” He stops. Thinks better of it.

“N-no,” you splutter out, voice a rasp, breath puffing, “go on. Hypothetically, obviously.”

“Well, for starters, I’d start by getting down on my kne —”

“Hey, kids!” Mr. Jones calls into the room, and you both jump like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t be. “Could one of you help me sort through some boxes? I don’t want to be a bother, but my back just isn’t what it was, you know?”

You throw a hand up in the air. “I’ve got it.”

Steve inwardly groans, his jeans suddenly a little too tight at what he’d been imagining doing to you only moments before — what he’d been imagining doing to you for years, if he was being honest.

You glance away, rushing over to Gerry, embarrassment rolling off your form.

And you’re gone, following the older man from where he came.

Conversation…over.

——

The window next door glows with lamplight. It’s after the earthquake that you see it. The earthquake that has you hiding in the doorway, holding onto the frame as the earth shudders and groans beneath you, pictures of your family now shattered frames scattered into a million pieces on the ground.

You grab a few things. Bandages, clothes, some water bottles. You can’t really tell how many people are over there, so you grab a pack. And when you ring the doorbell and Robin answers, looking stricken and covered in an inch of dirt, your heart groans too, because the look on her face is grim.

Steve throws his arms around you when you enter his bedroom, a whisper of, “You’re safe,” against your head. Reverently. Like he can’t quite believe it, like he wasn’t sure what he would find when he came back.

Your hands slide up and along his back, his body jolting at the contact, your fingers coming back a little stained with what looks to be fresh blood. “Steve, you’re hurt. I brought bandages.”

“He’s worse,” Steve utters through gritted teeth, “take care of him first.”

And there on the bed is Eddie Munson, with Nancy Wheeler there to rest a cloth against his head, whispering to the man under her breath. Soothing him, soothing those wrinkles that line his forehead — deep set in his pain.

With Nancy’s help, you get to work. Trying to cut him out of his clothes, careful to not agitate the wounds any further, apologizing for every whimper. Every broken sob of the man who fought to save a town that would have killed him on their own had they been given the change.

And later, after you’ve scrubbed your arms raw to try and rid yourself of the remnants of Eddie’s blood, Steve slides in beside you in the bathroom. Curls a hand around your head and tugs you against him, kissing your temple. Whispering something against your skull that you can’t quite make out. Steve’s not religious, but you swear he thanks someone for keeping you safe.

“You’re next,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold, peering up at the dirty face of the man you love. “Strip.”

“See, in a different context, those words coming from your lips —”

“I’m not joking,” you sing-song, tugging at the bloodied shirt he’s wearing. “Off with it.”

“I can’t,” he winces.

“You’re getting modest with me now? I’ve seen you half naked more times —”

“I think it’s a little stuck,” he groans, turning around and peeling off the outer jacket. It falls to the ground and you can see what he’s talking about. The injuries, freshly reopened, cling to the fabric like a second skin.

You whistle on an exhale, and he laughs darkly. “It’s not so bad. Just looks like one area got a little angry. If you get in the shower, I can run a little water on it to loosen it up.” You lift the edge of his shirt a bit, noting the swath of bandages around his waist. “Who did these? They look pretty good.”

“Nancy.”

“Good,” you say, a little softly, “now into the shower, Harrington.”

You’re trying. Trying to make light of a terrible night. But you can see the pain in his form that runs deeper than the scratches on the surface. Can see it in the tension on his form as he slips out of his jeans and climbs into the tub with nothing but a pair of boxers.

Neither of you speaks for a while. As you turn on the water and try to soak his shirt. As you eventually peel the shirt away and whisper you’re sorry over and over when he hisses and bites back against the pain. Nor as you run a damp towel over the wounds to clean them, careful to not agitate his mangled flesh further.

But then you hear it. The sniffle. The shudder of breath.

“Steve,” you whisper, threading your fingers in his hair, feeling him tremble against your touch, “what happened tonight?”

He cries. Folds his face into his hands and cries.

You toss the cloth aside and climb in to hold him, because you’ve known physical pain, but this pain hits differently. Twists in you like a knife. You can handle your own pain, but seeing Steve break, seeing your hero crumble, is a pain that cuts to your marrow. Shatters and scatters your heart into a million pieces.

But you have to stay strong.

For him. For all the times he’s done the same for you.

He clings to you, fingers fisted into your shirt, and you don’t let go.

——

You don’t talk about that moment in Mr. Jones’ home. Neither of you bring it up for days. And yet — it’s all you can think about. The way he looked your way, the timbre of his words, the way heat had crawled up your spine. How it also pooled low, throbbed in your core in a way that was unfamiliar to you.

Was this passion? Desire? Lust? All feelings that seem so foreign, and yet you don’t fear them. You just ponder the new questions that arise. The curiosity of what this might mean — if it could lead to more.

On that particular day, both of you were off of work. Decided with Thanksgiving swiftly approaching, it was about time you went pumpkin picking. Pumpkin picking turned into a whole day event, where you and Steve took turns arguing over which pumpkins were suitable for the front of his porch, and which were suitable for decoration for the potluck gathering with some friends that upcoming weekend.

And after spending half the day drinking warm apple cider, sharing donuts on a hayride while bundled up in comfortable clothing, and racing each other through a corn maze, you’d decided the last thing on your itinerary for the “full Hawkin’s experience” was to carve pumpkins.

“In case you didn’t know,” Steve jokes, his knife poking out a hole for an eye in his pumpkin, “Halloween was a few weeks ago.”

“So what? We were busy and didn’t get to do this sooner,” you bemoan, cutting open the top of yours and moving to stick your hand inside.

“You’re just going in like that — bare hand and all?”

“What’s a little guts, Steve?”

“It’s gross,” he says plainly, eyes narrowing, “and messy.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of mess?” Your tongue pushes out between your lips as you get to work, pulling out handful after handful of pumpkin guts into the garbage pail you set up beside the table the two of you worked on.

“I happen to not mind a little mess,” he teases, coming to stand over your shoulder, the heat of his chest at your back. “What are you making?”

“A Garfield pumpkin,” you tell him, scooping more of the inside out into a trash can. “I happen to be quite fond of your kitten. Maybe more than you.”

“Really?” he asks playfully, stepping a little closer to hook his chin over your shoulder.

“Are you jealous?” you muse, circling around.

Like this, your chests nearly brush, his palms come up to rest beside your hips, caging you in against the table. Heat pools low again at the look on his face. The firm line of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the round depths of his hazel eyes. There’s a look in them you can’t quite place — a look you’ve never seen in Steve’s eyes, or anyone’s for that matter. But you know you like it, thighs bumping a bit off of the table as you crawl up onto it, legs swinging beneath you.

Fingers come up to curve along your cheek, Steve’s thumb brushing the line of your jaw with a pinky. Delicately, like you’re precious. Like you might break. “You got a little something on your face.”

“Oh,” you whisper out, swallowing as he leans in closer, as his hips slide into the space between yours. “Steve…”

He steps closer once more. Hips brushing against the cradle of yours. There’s a heat from him that seeps into you. Grows as his forehead rests against yours and you both breathe in the same space, neither of you speaking, because there’s nothing this moment requires other than a nearness. His nose glides down the side of yours, one hand of his coming to curl around your hip, squeezing the curve of it. Your mind screams at you he’s going to kiss you, and your heart leaps because you want it.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and it’s a loaded question.

You’re thinking you want to erase the space between the two of you. You’re thinking there’s a chance this doesn’t quite mean to him what this means to you. You’re thinking that you’re scared to allow Steve to see inside the part of you that you’ve kept from him all these years. But you’re also thinking if you’re going to play with fire, there’s a knowing chance you may get burned.

“I’m thinking…” you exhale, chest pushing further into his as your back arches a bit, propping yourself up onto your hands. Only, as soon as you do so, pain flares in the center of your palm, gasping breath coming out with a, “Shit!”

Steve’s there in a flash, fingers curling around your offended wrist that you show him. Blood pools up from the wound, the bloodied knife skittering beside it onto the forest floor when he shoves it out of the way. You hadn’t even remembered it was there, too caught up in the moment.

“Honey…” he sighs, thumb brushing along the curve of your wrist, glancing down at the cut, “let’s get you inside. You might need stitches.”

“No hospital,” you tell him, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, “you’ve patched enough people up. This should be a walk in the park, right?”

“Yeah but this is you,” he says, and before you can ask him what he means by that, he’s helping you off of the table and steadying you when you land on the leaves below.

The bathroom is dimly lit by this time of day, even with Steve flicking the light on as soon as you enter. The edge of the tub is cool against your leggings, chilling your skin even through the fabric, as Steve rummages around in his cabinets for a first aid kid. And then he gets to work, sitting across from you on the toilet seat, making sure to irrigate your wound before dressing it.

“Not deep,” he says finally, inspecting the shallow cut that slices the center of your palm, “gonna disinfect it.”

A hiss pours from you as he does, pain flaring in the wound. Your free hand whips out to clutch at his pant leg, pinching the denim tight in your fingertips until the burning ebbs into a throbbing sting that beats in tandem with your heart.

“What did you mean before?” you ask as he starts to dress the wound, winding a bandage around and around your palm. “The whole ‘but this is you.’”

Steve pulls out a piece of medical tape and presses it to the end of the wrapping around your palm, his thumb rubbing along the inside of your wrist. “I can handle my pain, but I could never handle yours.”

You swallow, because you understand. You know first hand what he means — have experienced it yourself. Watching the man you love throw himself into harm's way and injure himself in the process. Having to mend his wounds, to see him hurting without a way to stop it, when all you wanted was to ease the pain.

“There you go,” he whispers, fingertips teasing along yours, before letting your hand fall back against your thigh. “No more pumpkin carving for you.”

“Thank you.” Your lip twitches as you climb off the lip of the bathtub, following him down the stairs.

“Steve, back there, I…”

“Come on, let me cook us dinner.” He pauses, stopping himself once you both realize you speak at the same time. “Wait — what were you going to say?”

You swallow thickly, the nervousness choking your words and drying them in your throat where they live and die instantaneously.

Not the time.

“N-nothing.”

——

“Don’t think I didn’t see how the two of you walked in together.” Robin twirls her drink around in front of her, brows arching as a smirk creeps along her features.

You sip your red wine, smiling to yourself over the rim. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Although you do. You arrived at Jonathan and Nancy’s new home with a freshly baked apple pie in hand, and Steve’s hand against your lower back, keeping you close to him. Clearly it hadn’t gone unnoticed, the evidence apparent in the look Robin was sending your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Lucy struggling to open a wine bottle in the kitchen, and excuse yourself from Robin’s side to greet the woman. She’s beautiful today, in a pair of black jeans, and a brick red sweater. Effortless again, with endless wavy hair and those glowing eyes of hers.

“Here — let me,” you offer, helping her to get the cork out of the bottle.

Once it’s open, you pour the two of you new glasses of wine and clink your glass with her’s, peering out over the kitchen island to take in the sights around you.

Nancy and Jonathan went all out. They lined up multiple tables around the kitchen, making room for friends and family alike. Their parents sit at one table, while Steve, Robin, Eddie, Abi and Argyle talk amongst themselves. Holiday music filters in through the radio, as Nancy and Jonathan carve into the giant turkey resting against the table covered in Thanksgiving themed plate wear.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had a holiday like this. This is warm and inviting. Back in the city your parents would rent out restaurants and have wait staff take care of your evening. You’d always resented the thought that, while you spent time in a cold environment under the guise of “Thanksgiving,” those employees missed out on time they could spend with their own loved ones.

And when Steve looks over, you almost feel like you could fit in here. Almost allow yourself to dream big — to imagine a world where when he lifted his hand and waved as he is now, it would be full of love, full of the newness of relationship.

“So you and Steve…?” you can’t help but to ask, turning so your back rests against the kitchen counter, offering Lucy a soft smile.

She returns it a little tightly. “We…dated for a bit.”

“Oh.”

You weren’t expecting that. Had witnessed a little something passing along their features when you’d bumped into her weeks ago, but never thought to chalk it up to them dating. On paper it makes sense. She’s a teacher, they work together, she’s gorgeous, vibrant, bubbly, interesting. She’s here. She’s been here. And she belongs here.

And you — you don’t know what you’re doing most days. You’re living with Steve, but for how long? You want to stay, or think you want to, but what does that entail? There’s also the lingering doubt. The fear that you don’t quite belong as you once did. Can see it in the looks from people as you pass. Those who haven’t seen you in years now regard you as a stranger.

“Yeah, we’d gone on a few dates. He was always such a gentleman…but it just…” she exhales, and you watch as her eyes trail his form, “he always seemed kind of…detached? He didn’t want to commit. Sometimes we’d be spending time together and he just…didn’t seem all there? But it all made sense when I saw you two at the coffee shop that one day.”

“What?” you splutter, red wine dribbling down your chin at the suddenness.

“He lit up when he saw you. I’d never seen him look at me that way,” she admits softly, sipping her own wine. “I kind of wanted to hate you for it, but you were so nice and he deserves to be happy.”

“Oh — we’re not — it’s not —”

“Not yet,” she teases, giving you a little eye roll. “He’s happy. And he’s present. Both are things that have changed within him since you’ve been here. I don’t think that’s mere coincidence.”

Her words settle within you as you later join Steve at the dinner table, leaning into his shoulder as he scoops your requested dinner options onto your plate. They linger even as the kids arrive for dessert and the group ends up playing endless card games, laughter lyrical and swirling around the room, growing louder as the drinks continue to pour into awaiting cups.

And later, as you sit on Steve’s couch in no more than a pair of leggings, a comfy hoodie, and knitted socks you ponder Lucy’s words again while a fire crackles in the fireplace.

“What’s on your mind?” Steve asks, fingers kneading into the arch of your foot, your head against the armrest, eyes closed in contentment.

“Lucy is really pretty…”

“She is,” Steve agrees, his fingers pushing in again, drawing a deep sigh from within you.

“She works with kids, she’s bubbly, she’s established. All things that you’d normally go for.”

“Okay…”

“I’m just…I’m — I guess I'm trying to figure out why you two didn’t work out then.”

Steve pauses in his ministrations, shifting a bit on the couch to look at you. “Honey…you know why.”

“No,” you retort, feeling anxiety bubble up within you, “I really don’t.”

“There’s always been someone else.”

“I’m not understanding…”

With a sigh, Steve scoots closer. Tugs you up and onto his lap to get you even closer, your knees thumping onto the couch cushion at each side of his hips. He grips your hips and stares up into your eyes. There’s an unspoken question. A whisper behind his stare. Begs for you to look deeper, to see him, to see his heart.

“No.” You shake your head, anger welling. Replacing that anxiety. “I’ve looked at you my whole life and you never noticed. Now? Now you decide you —”

“It’s always been.” His strangled voice breaks your heart.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? All this time, all these years —”

“I tried,” he interjects, fingers winding tighter around your hips.

“When?”

“First time I visited you after you moved away.” He sounds somber. Heartbroken in a way that’s foreign to you. “You’d gone inside and your dad and I had a drink out back. Remember?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, fingers running along the hair at his temple. He gives you a little squeeze, forehead resting against yours.

“He…I told him about my feelings for you. And he…well, he wasn’t supportive.” He exhales a wobbly breath. “He had his points. I had no money. He was right about that. I worked at a dead end job and was going nowhere. I had nothing to offer you. He…painted a picture of us in a few years from now. Asked me how I’d be able to keep you happy…keep our family happy. And I thought maybe he was right.”

“Bullshit. Everything he said to you is bullshit,” you snap, climbing off of his lap. “I never wanted any of that. If I had you, Steve, then I would have everything.”

“I know that,” he cries, jumping to his own feet, looping an arm around your hips. “I know that now. I’ve seen you here the past few weeks and you fit here. With me in my life. I want to stop wasting time pretending you’re just my best friend because that’s all I ever thought you could be. I want you here. I want you in my bed every morning and night, I want to touch you and, I don’t know, hold you while we cook dinner together. I want to kiss you just because I can. I want to hold your hand. I want all of that.”

He tugs you close, your chests thumping. His heart throbs against your sternum and you raise a palm to settle there, to push him back, but you find you can’t. He sucks the air out of the room when he’s that close — when his mouth is mere centimeters from yours, and all you want is to close the distance.

“I never felt good enough for you,” he breathes against your lips, his breath a shaky exhale. Lips graze against lips, your fingers slide up further, along his chest, over the curve of his neck, the slope of his jaw.

“You’ve always been good enough for me, Steve,” you whisper back, forehead nuzzling forehead. “I don't need all the money. I don’t want fancy dinners or cars, I don’t need the newest clothes, shoes, pocketbooks. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

He slides a palm up against your cheek. A thumb draws a soft line across the curve of your jaw. “And now? What do you want right now?”

“I want you to kiss me.”

——

sorry about the delay. i’ve basically been sick since july, and wasn’t planning on having so many of my ‘bad’ days the past couple of weeks. the next chapter will be long, and i mean long. can’t wait to hear about what you think about this one! likes, comments, reblogs — all of that is such an encouragement to creators and means the world, so please consider 🤍

[cyborg-franky]

Summer is coming... So what are they planning for you?

Citybreak They are planning a long weekend in a city you have always wanted to visit. Nice dinners, taking in the local vibe. Nightlife? Shopping? Museums? Whatever your preference is, they have you covered. Maybe you just want somewhere different to explore and venture around. Looking out your hotel room at night with the skyline of glittering lights! Sanji - Marco - Corazon - Law - Killer - Mihawk - Perona - Boa - Nami - Brook - Robin - Uta

--

Camping The moment summer is around the corner, they get the tent out and make sure it’s ready to go. They are getting into hardcore camping mode. Everything you’d need is all packed and ready. It’s time to have nights out by a lake, maybe fishing or swimming. Campfires and nature are all around you. Thatch - Ace - Sabo - Usopp - Jinbei - Zoro - Luffy --

Beach holiday Sunsets and cocktails, swimming all day, tanning under the sun, building sandcastles together. They can’t wait to feel the sand between their toes and splash you in the water or ensure you have enough sun lotion. Then there is the pier, the view, and the silly games and amusements that line it. Sanji - Marco - Ace - Nami - Jinbei - Franky - Luffy - Robin - Shanks - Crocodile --

Staying at home Both of you are exhausted and just need a rest. You don’t leave your house, and you also don’t lift a finger to work. You both have time to be together, have some movie marathons, catch up on your hobbies, and create creative joint space with one another. You are just decompressing after stress at work. Both of you are ignoring the outside world. Thatch - Deuce - Law - Mihawk - Usopp - Zoro - Robin --

Amusement park holiday They want nothing more than to book a stay at a water park or amusement park. After a long weekend of screaming on the rides, eating junk food, and being scammed at the amusements, they insist on winning you a plush, and in the end, they manage! Walking around the parks until you think your legs might fall off. Taking in the shows and all the entertainment together. Ace - Corazon - Killer - Barto - Sabo - Brook - Franky -Luffy - Buggy - Uta

--

Glamping Wanting to be outside but with class. No sleeping on the ground. They’ve planned a week-long stay at a cabin or a treehouse, maybe a strange-shaped place like a UFO you can sleep in? The calm nights in nature but with a good night's sleep. Also, the hot tub while you listen to the world around you. Thatch - Corazon - Mihawk - Nami - Benn --

Travel to another country It's time to explore another place entirely. They’ve planned this for months, and now it’s time. You both can’t wait to see the sights: the food, the art, the everything. You are immersing yourself in adventures together.  Sanji - Thatch - Deuce - Izou - Law - Doffy - Perona - Sabo - Usopp - Brook - Robin - Shanks - Benn - Crocodile --

Roadtrip Just you and them. The car is packed, the snacks and drinks are loaded in the cooler, and you have a list of things you want to hit on your summer trip. Music, the open road, singing along with one another. Maybe you don’t even have a plan; perhaps you just wing it. Windows down, wind in your hair and being in one another's company. Marco - Ace - Deuce - Kidd - Killer - Sabo - Franky - Zoro - Luffy --

Snowy getaway. Maybe it’s snowboarding and skiing in the cold? Lovely wooden lodges, hot cocoa, and their competitive streak. White snowy scenery and comfy warm sweaters. Log fires and exhausted limbs. Law - Kidd - Ace - Zoro - Robin - Benn --

Resort The best money can buy. Three meals a day, all top-tier with wine, cocktails, and anything you could ask for, brought to your room with the best view in town. A private pool, a private beach area just for you. They have it all planned and want to live in the lap of luxury with you: couples spa day, the works. Sanji - Izou - Doffy - Boa - Nami - Crocodile --

Hotsprings Traditional, calm, relaxing, and good for your soul, it involves just you and your partner chilling out in a beautiful inn with delicious food and birdsong from the garden. This is perfect for you both: taking everything easy at your own pace. Maybe you sit with sake and watch the little animals in the garden. You could cuddle up in the hot spring and feel the world just fade away as you enjoy one another's company in a comfortable silence. Marco - Izou - Law - Killer - Mihawk - Boa - Nami -Jinbei - Zoro - Robin --

Festival Depending on the vibe, you either go camping to a festival with chill vibes or going to fucking party. You guys enjoy the music, so many bands you love. Getting to dance, mosh, sway, whatever to the music together. Getting to camp together as you also meet new people. BBQs, booze, summer vibes for days.

Ace - Kidd - Killer - Perona - Barto - Sabo - Brook - Franky - Uta

[magicfootballstuff]

Gooner (alessia russo x reader)

As you slowly drift into consciousness, it doesn’t take you long to realise that Alessia is already awake beside you. Her breath is steady but not deep, her body is just a little too rigid to be asleep, but the biggest telltale is the hand that plays absent-mindedly with your hair.

“Morning, beautiful girl,” Alessia greets you as soon as she realises you’re awake too.

You lift your head to look at her, propping your weight up on one arm. 

It’s the penultimate day of your holiday together. After the football season wrapped up, you each went away separately with your respective friendship groups, before reuniting to go away as a couple before the World Cup preparations begin. It’s been a relaxing few days, renting out a cute wooden cabin with a terrace that overlooks the beach, spending your days relaxing on the sand or out exploring the quaint local town. But this morning Alessia looks far from relaxed, her blue eyes that match the sparkling ocean outside filled with worry.

“How are you feeling?” you dare to ask.

Alessia laughs nervously, then deflects by saying, “Next question.”

“Okay, how about this one instead?” you ask, arching a suggestive eyebrow. “Do you want to join me in the shower?”

Alessia ponders the question for just a fraction too long and you’re about to start panicking that you’ve said the wrong thing, that this kind of distraction isn’t what she needs right now. But just when you’re about to take your words back and offer her breakfast instead, she smiles.

“I don’t think I could ever turn down that kind of offer.”

———

After an extended shower filled with soft kisses and wandering hands, you move to the terrace outside your cabin for breakfast with a view out over the white sand and blue sea beyond. Alessia looks like a goddess, sun-kissed skin and golden hair, even as it hangs in damp waves over her shoulders. 

The breakfast you’ve made is a simple one, just toast and freshly prepared fruit, but as you set the two plates down and take a seat across from your girlfriend, Alessia is finally ready to open up.

“The announcement goes out in an hour,” she tells you.

“Are you nervous?” you ask. 

“I’m absolutely bricking it,” she admits.

The announcement that Alessia is leaving the club she’s spent the last three seasons at probably isn’t going to be a surprise to many people, especially not given the recent media attention around her contract situation, but you know that doesn’t make it any easier for Alessia herself. It’s probably a good thing that you’re here on holiday, almost in an alternate reality where you can pretend that Manchester or football contracts or transfer windows don’t exist.

“What do you need from me?” you ask, eager to settle Alessia’s nerves and make today as easy as possible in these circumstances.

“Nothing, you’re already doing enough,” Alessia tries to assure you, but you know her well enough to recognise the worry in her eyes.

“How about we check out that boat rental place we saw yesterday?” you suggest, as you reach for a slice of watermelon. “Disconnect a little, just you and me out on the sea?”

Alessia reaches for your hand across the table and says, “I don’t think I tell you often enough how much I love you.”

“Keep telling me,” you grin at her, “because I’m never gonna get tired of hearing it.”

———

“I think I’m more scared about the Arsenal announcement in a few weeks than the one today about me leaving United,” Alessia admits later.

You prop yourself up on one elbow to look across at your girlfriend, who is lying on her stomach on a towel beside you on the deck of the little boat you’ve rented as it bobs up and down in the shallow water of the cove where you’ve spent the afternoon swimming and splashing about.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Alessia nods as she rolls over, pushing her sunglasses up to sit on the top of her head. “It’s always scary joining a new team but I’ve never had to deal with this much publicity on a transfer before. I have no idea how the fans are going to react.”

“They’re going to love you,” you assure her, reaching for her hand and tangling your fingers together. “They’re so lucky to have a player like you choosing to play for them.”

“What if they think I’m joining for the wrong reasons?” Alessia asks, her teeth chewing at her lower lip in worry.

“Listen, I know that I’m Arsenal’s most talented and best-looking defender and that anybody would switch teams just to spend more time with me…”

Alessia tilts her head to one side as she shoots you an unimpressed stare, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘seriously?’

“I’m joking,” you grin at her. “But Arsenal is such a special team. Why wouldn’t you want to play for us? It’s such a good move for your career. And of course there will be more eyes on our relationship now and some people may think you’re only here because of me, but I promise that the second you step out onto the pitch in an Arsenal shirt, the real fans won’t care about anything except for how good you are.”

Alessia is quiet for a moment, lost in thought, before she hums and says, “It’ll be nice to score at the Emirates again.”

As she speaks, her gaze flicks across to you and her eyes betray the mischief behind her words.

Remembering her last goal at the Emirates and the points it snatched away from Arsenal in last season’s title race, you retort, “I’m not above throwing you overboard, you know?”

“You wouldn’t,” Alessia challenges you. “You like me too much.”

“Eh,” you make a non-committal noise. “You’re okay, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll throw you overboard instead,” Alessia retaliates with a grin.

“You like me too much,” you counter, using Alessia’s own argument against her.

Alessia’s eyes, sparkling blue under the Mediterranean sun, soften with adoration as she smiles at you.

“I really do.”

———

“Are you ready?”

She’s been sitting at the dining table in your shared apartment for the past twenty minutes, her phone face up in front of her, watching the minutes tick down until four o’clock, because that’s when it’ll become official. Alessia Russo will be unveiled as Arsenal’s newest signing. 

You’re expecting her to say no. Alessia hasn’t quite been herself ever since the announcement went out from Manchester United a couple of weeks ago that she would be leaving them. You know that the comments from some of the United fans, as well as the anticipation of her expected move to Arsenal, has been playing on her mind, even through the World Cup preparation camp with England. 

She hasn’t talked about it much, not with the media, not with the other Lionesses, not even with you. And you haven’t pushed her either. You know she was at the Emirates yesterday doing media for the announcement, but she didn’t even tell you much about that.

You’re expecting her nerves to be at their peak, having already expressed to you back on holiday that this is the moment she was most scared about, which is why it’s a bit of a surprise when she looks up at you with not a shred of doubt in her blue eyes.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” she confesses.

You grin back at her as she refreshes the social media on her phone again, counting down what can now only be seconds until it goes live.

Your own phone is ready too - firstly, to add Alessia to the Arsenal group chat, which she insisted on waiting until the official announcement before letting you do it even though most of the girls already know she’s about to join the team, and secondly to like and share all the posts to your own social media channels, eager to welcome your girlfriend to the team.

“Well, there it is,” Alessia says, as she stares at Arsenal’s latest post with a slightly awestruck expression on her face. 

You drape your arms around her neck from behind and rest your chin on the top of her head, taking in the image of your girlfriend wearing the red and white of Arsenal that is so familiar to you, yet still so new on Alessia.

You could definitely get used to it though.

Giving Alessia’s arm a little squeeze, you say, “Gooner looks good on you.”

[speedycoffeedelight]

An Animalistic Disaster

Summery: You recently moved to a cabin in the woods for some peaceful time alone. But that is ruined when somehow a wide variety of different animals invade your space out of nowhere. Was this your Disney princess era or is there something more to it..

Also a crazy killer seems to be also on the loose as of now. And this guy who seems to be your new neighbour seems suspicious. Is there any connection?

(I kinda just had some scenarios made in my mind with the hazbin crew as animals so I decided to write them(◕ᴗ◕✿) )

Master list

CH-1: The fluffy and the winged friend

As you turned the key,the door opened with a click. A gust of dusty air left the cabin as you opened the door. Coughing a little you started to look for the light switch with your hand. Soon you found it and turned it on as light filled the room. It was the kitchen from the looks of it. There was an old stove on the left side of the room,followed by a sink and a countertop.

On the right side was a wooden sofa. It look to be in bad shape as some of its parts had been eaten by bugs.You took a mental note to fix that later. There was a small stool beside the sofa which looked pretty okay. There was also a window above the sink. You went there and opened it to let some fresh air in. There was two more room to explore. You went in the right one.

This time it was a bedroom. There was a queen sized bed on a corner. Alongside it was your wardrobe and on the other side of the room was a chair and a table, all of which you made sure to be moved here before you came. There was a door in there too which you guessed was the bathroom. You went to the window above the table and opened it to let the sunlight in.

The other room was a bit spacious with a small fireplace and some old books with shelves in a corner. There was a lounge there too. Everything looked pretty neat for now.After finishing your tour of the cabin you took a big breath.

You used almost all the money you saved up till now to buy this cabin around the woods. You really wanted to settle down in a quiet place close to nature from your childhood and it just seemed perfect.

"Welp,time to get some unpacking done"

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt and went to the balcony where all of your stuff were left in a pile of boxes. You crouched down and picked up a box labeled 'kitchen' and started to work.

You took a break at noon to whip something up quick for lunch and rest. The rest of the unpacking was almost done by afternoon,as you didn't have much anyway. You went to get one last box that was left on the balcony. It was a bit bigger then other ones. You went to open it up,but suddenly it started to violently shake.

"What the-"

You quickly took a couple steps back. You don't remember placing something moving or vibrating in that box. At least nothing that would start moving by itself like a blender. Gulping down you you slowly inched to the box again. As you were close to touching the lid, it opened by itself. Being startled,you quickly retrieved your hands as a pair of horns poked through the box.

"Huh?"

Suddenly that something with horns jumped in front of you from the box. It was a sheep, a small fluffy adorable sheep. Following its jump, an ashy moth also flew out from the box and sat on the sheep's horns.

You were confused as hell. How the heck did a whole ass sheep and a big moth get inside your box? It didn't seem like the boxes were open beforehand. But swatting away that confusion,you focused on what to do with the two little creatures in front of you right now.

Your cabin was surrounded by woods on one side and it was far from safe for a little sheep like it. Plus you really wanted to pet it for some reason. Deciding you'll keep it with you for however long You can. You slowly started to get close to it holding out your hand.

The sheep was looking at you curiously and started to walk over to your hand. While the moth seemed to be tensed by you almost.

Slowly the sheep was under your reach. You softly put your hand on it head and began to pet it. The sheep closed it eyes which you think meant it was enjoying it. The moth seemed to be comfortable too now. Looking closer, you noticed the moth was missing one of it's eye. There was a cross where it's left eye should be.

Normally you weren't a big fan of moths. But this one really looked pretty. You mentally cursed whichever thing that made such a cute creature look like this.

Now you slowly tried to pick up the sheep so you can carry it to your room. You had some vegetables left over that you could give to the sheep.

"Hey there darling,come with me. Let's get you some food alright..?"

You spoke in a soft voice attempting to reassure it. But then it hit you that they wouldn't understand your language. You mentally facepalmed yourself right then for your stupidity. But to your surprise,it came closer to you and let itself be picked up. Even looking a bit happy in the process if that was possible. You heart absolutely melted at the sight of it and the soft fur. The moth flew and sat on top of your head.

"Well then, let's get going,shall we?"

You said as you walked back into the cabin with the small sheep in hand and moth on your head. At least you wouldn't feel lonely in this cabin tonight.

(A/n: just trying to get the environment figured out in this chapter and I'm not really good with it:') )

(Also this is already published in both ao3 and wattpad under the same name. But I wanted to publish it here too and see how it goes. The artwork isn't mine!!)

[werecreature-addicted]

Fae and their werewolf bf who ban anything metal from the house because of their silver and iron allergies. Fae withers any wolfsbane they see in the forest, and Werewolf bf helps them pick herbs. Just Fae and Werewolf bf fluff ♡

such a perfect cottage core fantasy, just a cozy cabin at the edge of the woods, with a big overgrown garden full of magical plants as well as more normal berry bushes and vegetable patches.

I like to imagine they have a goat or some chickens or something too. Some people might scoff at the idea of a werewolf having livestock but I like to think of them as one of those sheep guard dogs. And he loves his little animals as if they were a part of his pack.

Lots of those mushroom circle fairy rings around their house if the werewolf steps in one accidentally The Fea will pop up out of nowhere and steal a kiss. A fair price to pay if you ask me.

Honestly having no metal in the house wouldn't be that big of a deal, I don't imagine either of them cook a lot in a standard kitchen, Werewolf eats mostly raw meat and the Fea would just conjure up all sorts of custard cupcakes and berry honey teas with magic, but they can still get buy with just wooden cooking utensils and ceramic pots and pans.

The biggest hindrance is not having any sort of fire poker for their fireplace, but again with a fairy in the house tending to the fire with magic is easy enough.

all in all what a cute couple.

[mockerycrow]

THE DAY WE MET (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz pic origin here

reminder that requests aren’t open, but roommate!gaz thoughts are always welcome! — 1.2k words

a/n; this is a bit short!! we don’t know gaz’s exact age, but this is meant to be around 2005-2007. sorry to all of the playstation loyalists, me too bestie but i gotta be semi-accurate /hj — if you guys can’t tell, reader is implied to be the same age as gaz, so i might make references that aren’t entirely relatable, i apologize! — kofi

YOU AND KYLE FIRST met when you were teenagers. You were both fifteen years old. You met him during a summer camp; Kyle was always a charismatic person, even at fifteen years old. It’s how you two became fast friends in the first place. You had been dropped off in this wooded area, a couple of cabins lined up next to each other, your suitcase tucked against your legs and your backpack hanging onto your shoulders. Nervousness fluttered like unpleasant butterflies inside of your stomach as you watched adults, teenagers, and young children scurry about the campgrounds alike. The air smelled and felt damp; a bit cold as it was still early morning, despite the amount of people who seemingly had way too much energy for nearly six-thirty in the morning.

He was the first person to approach you—a side smile on his face as he felt your nervous energy. Kyle had already been there for several days by that point, he watched people pour into camp and he had made a few friends, but when he saw you? Standing off to the side, clearly overwhelmed and nervous, your fingers twitching against the handle of your suitcase? That was the first moment he knew he had to be your friend. Kyle didn’t mind if the friendship only lasted the duration of the summer, that’s a normal thing that happens. He’s been going to summer camp every other summer since he was nine years old, so there’s no doubt he made “just summer” friends.

Kyle walked up to you with his half smile, a confident stride, and he put his hand out to you, causing you to flinch ever so slightly, eyebrows raising in surprise at his ability to just.. Walk up to you and offer his hand. “Name’s Kyle,” He says, his voice not as deep as you know it is today due to age and due to puberty, of course. “What’s yours?”

Your mind blanks and fizzles out for a moment at the boy in front of you; beautiful curls and a dashing face—or at least what you considered dashing at fifteen years old—as well as a confident voice, despite his voice threatening to crack every other sentence. You clear your throat to get yourself on track as you’re sure you’ve kept him hanging long enough, and you take his hand, your shaky one meeting his firm one. You offer your name quietly, a nervous smile spreading across your face. Kyle coming up to you first made you feel a bit better, a confident boy who wasn’t afraid of interaction—a completely different stature than your own.

“How long are you here?” Kyle questioned you, his eyes roamed your suitcase and the too heavy backpack weighing on your shoulders. He could see the twinge of discomfort turning into borderline pain on your face, seeing how your eyebrow twitched and your nose would scrunch up a little bit. You took a second to process his words before you turned to him, as he walked to your right side, considering many people are still roaming the campsite. “All summer,” You answer, clearing your throat as you died from embarrassment because your voice squeaked. Kyle’s half smile widens into a full one, his fist punching your right upper arm for a moment. “Hey, alrigh’! Me too.”

Kyle looked around, seeing the camp counselors scrambling to get people to their correct assigned cabins. He looked at you, his eyes aimed down to your hands, where a small green piece of paper rested between your index and middle finger. His hand gestured to your hands, causing you to glance down at them. “What cabin did’ja get?” Kyle hummed as he leaned against the wooden fence that lined the camp area. It wasn’t there to really keep anything in or out, just to add to the forest-y feeling. You glanced down at the paper for a moment as your brain blanked. “Cabin five.” You responded, and your chest tightened at how this complete stranger’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Sweet, me too!” Kyle exclaimed. “Is all ‘ya paperwork sorted with?”

You nodded, and he grinned as he pushed himself off of the fence. “C’mon, I’ll help you get settled n’all.”

Kyle led you to cabin five, which was surprisingly empty at the time he helped you inside. There were people’s belongings strewn about the bunk beds, white masking tape on the front of the bunk bed frames with names scribbled on each tape, some beds remained unclaimed. The inside smelled like.. Well.. wood, considering it was a wooden cabin. It also faintly smelled like people’s various deodorants, as it was the age of “you don’t have to shower if you use spray deodorant”. Kyle led you to near one of the large windows by the back of the cabin. “This is my bunk,” He motioned to a bunk that was considerably well kept for a teenage boy—many teenage boys in the cabin didn’t keep their stuff neat, or in general—with a gameboy advance peeking out from under the pillow.

“Wait–you have a gameboy?” You gasped, completely forgetting about the all consuming anxious feeling that was swirling in your gut the moment you arrived outside of the camp. Kyle laughed and he nodded, swiping it up from under his pillow, and he handed it to you. Your jaw is dropped open and you mindlessly let your suitcase plonk onto the floor, as well as your backpack which makes a thump. You look up at him and grin, and Kyle definitely noticed the change in your demeanor, your eyes locking for the first time. “What games do you have with you?”

You two spent the rest of the time together setting up your bunk—you ended up being his top bunk, he moved a lot in his sleep so he opted for a bottom one—and talking about video games, family, friends back at home; everything, all until the camp counselors rounded everyone up around 0830. From that moment on, you two were attached at the hip the entire summer. You clicked nearly instantaneously, clicked so close you two acted like you’ve known each other since early childhood. You two partnered up for everything, and at the end of the camp? Kyle blinked in surprise when you didn’t only hand him your home phone number, but also your email, as well as your xbox gamertag.

Your clear efforts to stay in contact weren’t unwelcomed; in fact, he very much appreciated your efforts. Kyle had such a good time with you over the two or so months together, he didn’t want you to become a “just summer” friend that he would possibly see next summer. He wanted to talk to you as much as possible, because you two just clicked so well. Kyle couldn’t recall anyone else he genuinely clicked so well and fast with, and he was determined to stay friends.

Kyle let a stupid grin out on his face when you accepted his friend request on xbox after a few days following the end of summer camp, and you sent an invite to him to play a game you both own; a very famous first person shooter.

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 8/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! - bit of smut, Soldier Boy being a dick, drunk Reader, Language, jealousy

Word Count: 4344

A/N: This is part 8 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The next few weeks passed without any significant incidents. While you kept arresting a few renegade supes, there was still no sign of Homelander. Sure he still appeared in public regularly, but it seemed like he was always one step ahead of you. Before you arrived he was already gone. As if he had vanished into thin air.

When Vought announced two weeks ago that Homelander would be busy reorganizing the Seven for the next few weeks, Butcher and his team waited a few days to see if there's actually no news around him. When nothing happened, Butcher had decided to give you all a well-deserved, albeit short, break.

Butcher stayed at home with MM. The two of them just wanted to have a few days of peace and, like old times, brighten up their evenings with a lot of alcohol before MM's daughter came to visit.

Frenchie surprised Kimiko with a trip to Paris and they haven't been heard from since they left. The two probably never got out of the hotel bed.

Annie traveled with Hughie to the mountains of Austria, where they rented a small wooden cabin. They wanted to hike, ski, get pampered at the spa, and just pretend to be a normal couple for a few days.

For your part, you had actually planned to visit your family, but since they were in the middle of moving, you decided against it at short notice. However, you didn't want to stay in the apartment either. You didn't want to crash Butcher and MM's men's group, nor did you want to constantly watch football games and trip over beer cans.

You didn't know what had come over you, but after everyone else had left and you had no idea what to do with your newfound free time, you argued with Ben for over 30 minutes, begging him to take you to Brazil. It had seemed like an eternity since you had sand beneath your feet, and after what you had done to Homelander, traveling to a foreign land alone wouldn't have been all that wise.

"Fine! But you'll leave me the fuck alone", Ben hissed before slamming the door to his room in your face.

Unfortunately, it became clear early, that going on vacation with Ben wasn't a good idea.

You've barely spoken to each other since the kiss. Your communication was limited to the essentials and, above all, to what was important for your job. Ben would never have admitted it, but you actually hurt him in some way with your actions. And although he couldn't explain it to himself, he felt even worse than after the Countess's betrayal.

You had been trying to apologize to him for days, but he just wouldn't listen to you. Even his favorite whiskey and a ridiculously expensive cigar couldn't calm him down.

At some point you just gave up.

The only problem, whatever the cause, was that you had now developed a crush on Ben. A damn major one.

It was harder now, to be ignored by him for weeks and watch him crawl deeper into his shell and become an even bigger asshole. But the worst part was, it was your fault.

“Fucking hurry up! I have to pee”, Ben banged on the bathroom door way too hard. It was your second Day in Brazil and way too early for that loud noise.

The two of you had a small beach house in a holiday resort right by the sea. It was beautiful and relatively quiet, but unfortunately only had one bathroom and one bedroom, so you slept on the couch and Ben chased you out of the bathroom for the second time in a row.

“Give me 5 please”, you whined, getting out of the shower.

But Ben had absolutely no nerv to negotiate with you. With a strong tug he pushed the door open. You had just enough time to wrap your towel around yourself before he came running towards you, finger raised. Despite the fact that the vacation was supposed to be relaxing for both of you, Ben's temper hadn't nearly disappeared by the second day.

“If I say I have to pee, then I have to fucking pee. Fucking now, not in five minutes!”, he hissed, his finger in front of your face as he looked down at you. His gaze briefly flickered to your breasts, but found your gaze again as you pulled your towel tighter, your cheeks red. “I know you’re fucking old, but I didn’t thought you had problems with your bladder yet”, you answered him cheekily.

“Fucking old, huh?”, he raised an eyebrow and lowered his finger. “Maybe I should teach you some manners, fucking brat”, he cups your jaw in one hand and gently but firmly pushes your face upwards.

“Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty face”, he muttered almost absently as he examined your face.

A few weeks ago your thoughts would have been completely different, but now you wanted nothing more than for him to just kiss you again.

For almost two weeks, the anger you felt towards yourself and the whole situation with Ben was so present that whenever the two of you ever exchanged a word, your responses were always bitchy and sassy. Five days ago you even managed to get him to blow up because of you, like literally.

“Get your dirty hand off me”, you hissed as you collected yourself.

“Sure Sweetheart”, he innocently raised both hands in the air, winked at you and turned to the toilet. Shameless as always, he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers a little and peed right in front of you.

You couldn't take your eyes off him for a while as you looked at his best piece. Reluctantly, your mouth went dry as you saw his size.

Of course Ben felt your gaze, but said nothing, instead enjoying your attention to the fullest, as well as your speechlessness. Ben knew he had a lot to offer and your reaction was pretty much identical to the one he usually got from women. The difference was that right now, his dick wasn't even hard.

It wasn't until he flushed the toilet that you were snapped out of your, more than dirty, thoughts. “Can I please get ready now? I’m hungry and want to eat breakfast”, you grumbled, tightening your grip on your towel.

Ben just rolled his eyes and washed his hands, leaving you alone in the bathroom.

The rest of the morning passed without further fights and ended in a relaxing afternoon by the pool.

With his legs crossed and his phone in his hand, Ben looked sideways at you as you lay on the lounger next to him, unzipping your bikini, to get your upper body tanned without streaks. You lay on your stomach, which is why everything important was covered anyway. Still, Ben obviously had a problem with it.

However, as you turned on your side, your bikini top hanging over the armrest of your lounger, Ben raised his glasses and looked incredulously at your back, which you turned to him.

“You fucking serious?”, he hissed at you.

“What?”, you turned onto your back so he had a perfect view of your bare chest as you looked up at him with innocent eyes. In fact, you had absolutely no ulterior motives at that moment, you just wanted to tan pretty much everything you could.

You could hear him take a sharp breath to calm himself before he spoke. “The pool is full of fucking wanker and you take off your fucking clothes? You're fucking flaunting yourself like a fucking little slut". As soon as he finished his sentence, he had already thrown his towel over your upper body.

You raised an eyebrow when you saw the more than annoyed expression on his face.

“And why do you have a damn problem with that?”. While you waited to see how Ben would react, you folded your arms over the towel.

Ben opened his mouth to tell you why you shouldn't be half-naked here by the pool, but it wasn't just the blood loss in his head caused by the tantalizing sight of your perfect breasts that thwarted his plans; simply the lack of a proper reason.

Why did it actually bother him? After all, you weren't his girlfriend. He also didn't give a shit about his image right now, so he didn't have to worry about being seen like that with you. So why did your actions trigger him so much?

"Just…just get fucking dressed", he grumbled, jaw clenched, pushing his sunglasses back into place as he tried to ignore his almost painful erection in his trunks.

With an annoyed groan, you decided to follow his instructions, as you had absolutely no nerve for another unnecessary and nerve-wracking argument with him. “Yeah, whatever”, you grumbled to yourself before turning back to your cocktail.

The next time Ben looked at you from his phone, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. He rolled his eyes, stood up, pulled an parasol over your lounger and looked around. Slowly but surely he was getting bored and no one wanted Soldier Boy to be bored.

It didn't take long before he had the prospect of a nice pastime. Less than five feet away from him sat two absolutely hot, young blondes whose eyes were staring at him lustfully. Ben knew that they would be absolutely easy. Confident and full of himself, he walked towards the two girls, while you fell further and further behind in his thoughts.

About two hours later, you slowly woke up from your restful nap. You had to blink a few times before you could look away from the now setting sun. “Ughhh”, you grumbled and stretched. Your eyes wandered to the parasol, which was no longer of any use, but still made you smile briefly. Ben must have set it up for you.

You ran your hand through your hair and looked around. The pool and bar were starting to get emptier and if you looked at your phone you knew why. Most people probably just ate dinner.

You stayed on the lounger for a while, wondering where Ben had gone and whether he would show up again soon. As he still wasn't back after about 20 minutes, you figured he was definitely drinking somewhere and decided to take a shower before starting dinner. After packing your things, you walked towards your little beach house, weak in the knees and feeling like you were walking on clouds. It was by far one of the most relaxing afternoons ever and you almost felt full of energy.

When you entered the house and heard some intense noises, you didn't want to go any further. You should have just left the house again.

Nevertheless, your feet carried you to the bedroom door.

The scene in front of you unfolded with an intensity that bordered on primal. Ben's movements were relentless as he pounded into a blonde, young girl, his hips driving forward with a fervor fueled by raw desire. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in the air, punctuated by the moans of pleasure that spilled from the lips of all three. Meanwhile, the woman beneath Ben's skilled touch was lost in ecstasy, her body arching with each thrust, her red nails digging into the sheets as waves of pleasure washed over her. But even as she surrendered to the pleasure coursing through her veins, her lips found purchase elsewhere, trailing kisses along the curves of the other girl’s body, laying with spread legs in front of her. The other woman, lost in the throes of passion, arched her back as the sensation of warm lips and skilled tongue danced across her skin. Pleasure rippled through her body, building with each flick of the tongue, each gentle nip of teeth. Her hands tangled in the sheets as she surrendered to the intoxicating sensation, her moans mingling with those of her companions in a symphony of lust.

As you stood in the doorway, frozen in shock, a whirlwind of emotions tore through you with dizzying force. The sight of Ben entwined with two women ignited a fierce storm of jealousy, its flames licking at the edges of your composure. Your heart hammered painfully against your ribs, each beat echoing the ache of longing and desire you had buried deep within.

As your eyes met Ben's, a surge of heat flooded your cheeks, betraying the tumult of emotions raging within you. His smirk, equal parts charming and mischievous, sent a shiver down your spine, but it was his bold invitation that jolted you back to reality. "You wanna join?". His words hung in the air, as he watched you with an intensity that made your heart race even faster.

With a forced smile that barely masked the ache in your chest, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "I think I'll pass".

Without waiting for his response, you turned on your heel, fleeing the room.

As you emerged into the sunlight, the salty breeze washed over you, offering a fleeting moment of respite from the storm raging within, you made your way back to the bar, the taste of bitterness lingered on your tongue, a reminder of the jealousy that gnawed at your insides. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of your own conflicting emotions.

As you reached the bar, you sank onto a stool. With a weary sigh, you signaled the bartender, your voice barely above a whisper as you ordered a drink, anything to numb the ache in your heart. After the bartender set the drink before you, you wrapped your fingers around the glass, the cool condensation soothing against your trembling hands. With each sip, you felt the tension slowly ebb away, replaced by a numbness.

After a few too many drinks, you were feeling pleasantly buzzed, the world around you a blur of laughter and neon lights. With a carefree grin plastered on your face, you stumbled out of the bar, the cool night air a welcome relief against your flushed cheeks.

While you made your way back to the beach house, your steps were anything but steady, weaving a drunken dance along the sandy path. The stars above winked down at you, their twinkling lights adding to the whimsy of the night.

As you stumbled into the beach house, a wave of dizziness washing over you, you were greeted by the sight of Ben lounging on the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He took a casual drag of the joint between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily around him. With a smirk playing on his lips, Ben reached for the small mirror on the coffee table, deftly arranging a few lines of coke with practiced precision.

As he leaned back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on you, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Hey there, sunshine", he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. "You look like you've had one too many. You smell like it, too".

You couldn't help but chuckle at his observation, the alcohol dulling the edge of embarrassment that threatened to creep in. "Guilty as charged", you replied with a playful wink, sinking into the nearest chair with a contented sigh.

As the night wore on and the alcohol continued to flow, the atmosphere between you and Ben grew increasingly charged.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, fueled by liquid courage, you couldn’t resist the urge to tease Ben about what you had seen earlier. “So, Soldier Boy”, you began, your words slurring slightly as you leaned in closer, “those two… girls in the bedroom earlier… quite the party, huh?”.

Ben’s demeanor shifted instantly, his playful expression darkening slightly. “Mind your own fucking business, sweetheart”, he growled.

But fueled by alcohol and a stubborn streak a mile wide, you pressed on, emboldened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Come on, Ben” you persisted, your words tumbling out in a drunken torrent. “I thought you were all about having a good time. Or is it only fun when it’s on your terms?”

With a grin, you leaned in closer, the scent of alcohol lingering on your breath as you teased him further. "Oh, come on, Ben", you taunted, your words dripping with sarcasm. "Don't be such a prude. I'm sure you've got some juicy details to share".

Ben's jaw clenched visibly, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggled to rein in his temper. But despite the anger burning bright in his eyes, there was a hint of curiosity lurking beneath the surface, a desire to play along with your dangerous game.

"Fine", he bit out, his voice tight with barely-contained frustration. "You want to know how it went down? I'll tell you". His words were sharp.

But instead of backing down, you leaned in closer, your gaze locked with his as you egged him on, your own jealousy bubbling just beneath the surface. "Go on, then", you challenged, your voice dripping with false bravado. "I'm all ears". And as Ben launched into the sordid details of his escapades with the two women, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy gnawing at your insides. But fueled by a potent mix of desire and defiance, you pushed aside your own insecurities, determined to play the game until the bitter end.

"Hmm, sounds like you had a blast", you remarked casually, your tone deceptively light as you leaned back in your chair, feigning indifference. "I guess those girls were lucky to have you for the night".

Ben's gaze flickered with surprise at your response. But before he could respond, you rose from your seat with a playful sway, the alcohol lending a buoyancy to your movements.

As you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn't resist one final jab, your words echoing through the room with a hint of mischief. "Oh, and Ben", you called out over your shoulder, your voice teasing and light-hearted, "next time, try not to settle for such cheap thrills. You could do so much better than those two bimbos". With that, you entered the bathroom to undress.

As you fumbled with the zipper of your dress, struggling to free yourself from its confines, you were startled by the sound of Ben's voice behind you. Leaning against the doorframe with a predatory glint in his eyes, he watched you with a mixture of amusement and desire.

"Having a bit of trouble there, sweetheart?", he teased, his voice thick with innuendo as he sauntered closer, his gaze never leaving your form. "Need a hand?".

Despite the alcohol coursing through your veins, a shiver of awareness shot through you at his proximity, your skin prickling with anticipation. With a playful roll of your eyes, you shot back, "I can handle it, thanks".

But Ben wasn't deterred by your feigned indifference, his smirk widening as he closed the distance between you. "You know", he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, "I'd much rather be fucking that tight little pussy of yours right now. But since you won't let me, I guess I'll have to settle for something else, even if it's cheap".

His words sent a thrill of desire coursing through you, your cheeks flushing with heat at the raw intensity of his confession. Despite your better judgment, you couldn't deny the pull of attraction that simmered between you, a potent mixture of longing and forbidden desire.

With a playful swat to his chest, you shot him a coy grin over your shoulder. "Dream on, Soldier Boy", you teased. "You'll have to try a lot harder than that to win me over".

As Ben closed the gap between you, his fingers brushed against the zipper of your dress, a bold gesture that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With a swift motion, he pulled the zipper down, the fabric of your dress falling to the ground, revealing your perfectly young body clad only in lace panties, your breasts bare beneath the sheer fabric.

A smirk played on Ben's lips as he took in the sight before him, his gaze roaming hungrily over your exposed skin. "Well, well, well", he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "Look what we have here. Seems like you were hiding quite the little treat under that dress of yours."

His words were laced with a hint of arrogance, a reminder of the power he wielded over you in this moment of vulnerability.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you shot him a grin, your own desire mirrored in the depths of your gaze. "Like what you see, Ben?", you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or is it too much for your fragile ego to handle?".

Ben's smirk widened at your challenge, his fingers tracing a path along the curve of your hip with tantalizing slowness. "Oh, I can handle it just fine, sweetheart", he replied, his voice thick with promise. "In fact, I think it's about time you found out just how much I can handle".

And with that, he pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss that left you breathless and wanting more. You found yourself too drunk and too overwhelmed to push him away. His kiss was demanding, lacking the tenderness you had hoped for, but the alcohol had already clouded your judgment.

Feeling his strength, Ben effortlessly lifted you, his supe abilities making you feel like a feather in his arms as he pressed you against the sink. The cold porcelain sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Ben's touch. You moaned softly as his lips moved against yours with a sense of entitlement, his hands exploring your body with possessiveness. Despite your hazy state, a part of you couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the way he was handling you, but you were too lost in the moment to protest.

"Finally getting a taste of what you've been missing, huh?", Ben murmured between kisses. "You should have given in sooner, sweetheart".

His words stung, a reminder of the power dynamic at play between you.

As Ben's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and lingering marks, you squirmed in his grasp, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you. His actions were rough and possessive.

"Ben", you slurred, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to form coherent thoughts. "What are you doing?".

But Ben paid no heed to your question, his lips finding their way to your collarbone as he continued to trail kisses along your skin. With a grunt, he lifted you effortlessly, his strength making you feel like a ragdoll in his arms. As he carried you towards the bedroom, you could feel his arousal pressing against you, a reminder of the desires that drove him. Despite your intoxicated state, a sense of unease gnawed at the pit of your stomach, a voice in the back of your mind warning you of the dangers ahead.

"Relax, sweetheart", Ben murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I'm just showing you a good time".

His words sent a chill down your spine. But as Ben's lips crashed against yours once more, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the heat of the moment, the alcohol dulling your senses and clouding your judgment.

As Ben threw you onto the bed with a force that bordered on roughness, you let out a startled gasp, the impact sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body..

His eyes blazing with hunger as he rid himself of his shirt, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest. He hovered over you, his gaze intense and hungry, as he trailed kisses down your chest, his lips leaving a fiery trail in their wake. Your breath hitched in your throat as pleasure surged through you, a quiet moan escaping your lips at his touch.

"Mmm, that's it", Ben murmured. "Let me hear you".

With a satisfied smirk, Ben continued his exploration, his hands roaming freely over your body. His lips trailing lower, igniting sparks of pleasure with every kiss.

Just as Ben's lips reached the hem of your panties, you abruptly grabbed his wrist, pulling him up to meet your gaze with a frustrated growl.#

"What?", Ben asked, his tone tinged with annoyance as he met your gaze.

"Be gentle", you slurred. "Please, Ben", you begged, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "Just this once".

Ben's suspicion grew as he registered your unusual request. "What's the big deal?", he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration. "You've never been shy about what you want before".

You hesitated, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his scrutinizing gaze. "I've never… done this before", you admitted, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Ben's eyes widened in realization, a smirk playing on his lips as he pieced together the puzzle. "Ah, I see", he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. "Virgin territory, huh? Well, aren't I lucky".

With your inhibitions dulled by alcohol, you found yourself unable to protest, resigned to whatever fate awaited you.

As Ben began to pull down your panties, a smirk played on his lips as he watched your slick folds glisten in the dim light of the room. "Looks like you're more than ready for me, princess", he murmured.

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A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 I loved this Chapter ._.

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Part 9

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy