#devouring fanfic

[whatsfourteenupto]

You laugh at me but Dr Who has reached the final point of proof that it’ll be stuck irrevocably in my brain for forever

[zephyrchama]

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky respects your own financial independence, but he also made sure you have access to his black card and use it when you need it. He doesn't care what you spend the money on, especially since the notification he gets those very rare times that you use his money is to buy something most practical or for your shared apartment.

However, he does not expect to see a notification for the purchase of some sex toys 😏

CHOCOLATE

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Timeline: Takes place 1-2 weeks after mint, 2-3 weeks after heat.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, creampie, food play, breeding kink. Feelings, so many feelings.

Author Notes: Surprise! At some points during the 2200 Followers Celebration poll, Devour Bucky and Chef were actually winning, so here's something I started months and months ago and brought out to finish for them. It's not quite everything from your ask, Eva, but I hope it's a satisfying scenario all the same...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You had known the exact moment your fiancé – mob boss, venture capitalist, or philanthropist depending on who you asked and what they knew – got the notification of your purchase.

James Buchanan Barnes had given you a black card weeks ago, before the engagement, but you hadn’t used it until this week. Bucky had gone to Chicago for business (and you were sure he was there for business as well), and instead of staying home and pining away for him, you decided to treat yourself. The notification must have pinged his phone during a meeting, because exactly 47 minutes later, your own phone lit up with his name.

"What's this Cartier expense I see?" his voice a dangerous mix of amusement and curiosity.

You swallowed hard, fingering the velvet box in your lap. "Just a little shopping therapy while you're away. Nothing to worry about."

"Mmm," he hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to shower you with gifts."

"Well," you said, "maybe I wanted to surprise you for once."

There was a pause, and you could almost see him leaning back in his chair, a predatory smile spreading across his face. "I suppose I am a little surprised you finally used the card. But how about a challenge?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you see if you can shock me with a purchase?”

“Challenge accepted. What do I get?”

He chuckled. “You already know I’ll give you the world.”

Butterflies surged in your stomach. This man.

“You’re back Saturday afternoon?” you confirmed.

“Yes,” he growled. “There’s a round of golf I can’t seem to move or negotiate.”

You sighed softly. “It’s only three more days.”

“I like that you miss me.”

You huffed but couldn’t deny it.

“I’m missing you, too,” he said.

“James…” you breathed.

“Did you get the gift I sent?”

“I did.” A stunning, six-foot mirror with an ornate, gold-gilded frame had been delivered that morning to your apartment and placed in your bedroom.

“I was taken with how beautiful it was and you were my first thought.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I have to go. We’ll talk later.”

When you woke up Friday morning, you knew exactly how to shock him with the black card.

Or at least tease him.

The high-end, ridiculously expensive lingerie boutique you never thought you would enter in your lifetime - Boudoir.

The response to that expense notification was immediate, and you smirked when you read the text that came through.

JAMES: You have my interest piqued.

You thought for a moment, then typed out a reply.

YOU: Thought maybe I’d see if I can shock you and send some photos of what I got later tonight.

Three dots appeared straight away, and then

JAMES: Forget photos, I’ll fly out tonight straight away after my meeting with Levinson and come straight to you.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart swelling with adoration, anticipation, and maybe just a touch of nerves. You looked up the latest flights out of Chicago, and couldn’t help feeling a little forlorn. Even though the restaurant head chef life meant late nights for work, it would still be an ungodly hour when he landed.

YOU: I’ll try to stay up, but promise to wake me up if I’m asleep?

Again, you didn't have to wait long for his reply.

JAMES: I promise. Nothing could keep me from you tonight.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. You glanced at the clock - it was barely noon. The hours until his arrival stretched before you, filled with anticipation and nervous energy. You busied yourself with things before work, trying to focus on anything other than the ticking clock and the bag from Boudoir sitting in your closet.

At Devour your mind was engaged fully in your craft and working with your team.

But once you returned home after the Friday night dinner service, you found yourself pacing the apartment, unable to settle. Should you put on the lingerie now? Wait until you heard from him? You compromised by showering and doing your hair and makeup, then slipping into a silky robe.

Just as you were debating whether to pour yourself a glass of wine to calm your nerves, your phone pinged.

JAMES: Landed. On my way to you.

Far earlier than you expected him, but a good thing, too.

Your heart raced as you read his message. You quickly made your way to the bedroom, retrieving the Boudoir bag from the closet with trembling hands. The delicate lace and silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped into the lingerie, adjusting the straps and garters with care. You stood before the new mirror James had sent, admiring how the deep, rich color complemented your skin tone. The set hugged your curves in all the right places. Standing before the mirror James had gifted you, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

A text alert broke your reverie.

JAMES: Five minutes.

You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over the silky fabric once more before draping the robe back over your shoulders. You dimmed the lights in the bedroom and lit a few candles, creating a soft, inviting ambiance.

The sound of a key in the lock made your pulse quicken. You perched on the edge of the bed, listening as Bucky’s footsteps approached.

The bedroom door opened slowly, and he stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His gaze was intense, a mix of hunger and adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. Would you ever get used to the way he looked at you?

"Well," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "this is certainly a welcome home."

You stood, your fingers toying with the tie of your robe. "I thought you might appreciate a little preview of my shopping spree."

He set a golden box on your dresser and then moved closer, his steps deliberate and predatory. He reached out, running his fingers along the edge of your robe. "May I?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he slowly undid the tie and pushed the silky fabric off your shoulders. The robe pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in the exquisite lingerie.

Bucky inhaled sharply, his eyes roaming over every inch of you. "Beautiful.” His hands settled on your waist, pulling you flush against him. "Show me how much you missed me," he growled.

You leaned into him, tilting your head up to meet his intense gaze. "I thought you were going to show me how much you missed me," you teased, running your hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, I intend to," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "But first, I want to savor this moment. You've outdone yourself."

His hands roamed over the delicate lace and silk, tracing the curves of your body with a reverence that made your breath hitch. You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the barely contained power in his muscles as he held you close.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here until much, much later,” you said, breathing in the scent of him, cologne mingled with his natural musk. “The flights I saw had landings after midnight.”

He snorted. “My private jet provides service according to my schedule, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh,” was your soft and surprised reaction, realizing you should not be at all surprised to learn he owned a private jet.

"Turn around, love," he commanded softly. "Let me see all of you."

You complied, slowly spinning to face the mirror. He stood behind you, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection. His hands skimmed down your sides, fingertips tracing the lace edges of your lingerie. You shivered at his touch, watching as his expression darkened with desire.

"Do you see how stunning you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How every curve, every line of your body is a work of art?"

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him. "I see how you look at me," you whispered. "That's what makes me feel beautiful."

You watched in the mirror as his lips trailed up your neck, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. Your breath quickened as one of his hands splayed across your stomach, pulling you back against him.

He growled low in his throat, his arms tightening around you. "You still have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough with need. His fingers traced the edge of the lace at your hip.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his face. "Then show me," you challenged, your eyes locked on his.

Impossibly, his eyes darkened even more at your words, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss as he carried you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness.

"You want me to show you?" he growled, hovering over you. His fingers traced the delicate straps of your lingerie, sending shivers across your skin. "I'll show you exactly what you do to me."

He began a torturous exploration of your body, his lips and hands mapping every inch of you. The exquisite lingerie became both a barrier and a tantalizing tease as Bucky lavished attention on the exposed skin while skimming over the lace and silk. You arched into his touch, desperate for more.

"James," you breathed, your fingers threading through his hair. "Please…"

He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love. I've been dreaming of you all week."

His talented fingers deftly unclasped the delicate hooks of your bra, slowly peeling the lace away to reveal your skin beneath. You gasped as the cool air hit your heated flesh, arching into his touch as he palmed your breasts.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lowering his head to trail kisses along your collarbone. "So fucking beautiful."

You tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Too many clothes," you panted, fumbling with the buttons.

Bucky chuckled, sitting back on his heels to shrug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Your eyes roamed hungrily over his sculpted torso as more of his skin was revealed. The dim candlelight cast shadows that accentuated every plane and angle of his muscular form.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Always," you breathed, reaching up to run your hands over his chest and shoulders.

He caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

You melted into his kiss, your body arching up to meet his as he pressed you into the mattress. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against yours, was intoxicating. You tugged at his grip on your wrists, desperate to touch him, but he held firm.

"Ah ah," he murmured against your lips. "I'm not done admiring my gift yet."

His free hand skimmed down your side, fingers dancing along the edge of your panties. You whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you.

"James, please," you gasped, breaking away from the kiss.

He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent shivers down your spine. "So impatient," he tsked, nipping at your lower lip. "But I suppose I have kept you waiting all week, haven't I?"

In one fluid motion, he released your wrists and moved down your body. His lips and tongue traced a burning path along your skin, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before continuing lower.

With deft movements, he removed the rest of your lingerie, his eyes dark with hunger as he drank in the sight of you. You reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Bucky chuckled, gently moving your hands aside to finish undressing himself.

Finally skin to skin, you both sighed at the contact. Bucky's weight settled over you, comforting and electrifying all at once. His lips found yours again as he entered you slowly, savoring every inch. You gasped against his mouth, your body arching to take him deeper.

"God, I've missed you," Bucky growled, his forehead pressed against yours as he stilled for a moment.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer. "Show me," you breathed, nails raking down his back.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Bucky began to move, setting a rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name. His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there as his hips drove into yours.

You lost yourself in the sensations - the slide of his skin against yours, the delicious friction where your bodies joined, the heat of his breath on your neck. Your hands roamed his broad back, feeling the flex and ripple of his muscles as he moved above you.

"James," you moaned, feeling the familiar tension building low in your belly. "I'm close."

Bucky slowed his movements, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I'm not done with you."

With a low growl, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping at the loss. Before you could protest, his strong hands grasped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach.

His palms glided down your sides, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at his touch, anticipation building as he gently urged your hips upward.

"On your knees for me, beautiful," he commanded softly, his palms smoothing over the swell of your backside.

You complied eagerly, pushing yourself up onto all fours. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Bucky's hands continued their journey, kneading the flesh of your thighs and hips with intent appreciation.

You felt the bed shift as he positioned himself behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His fingers tangled in your hair, gently tugging your head back. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke.

"You're a vision like this," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, pressing back against him, desperate for more contact. Bucky chuckled, the sound vibrating through your body. Slowly, torturously, he dragged the tip of his length along your folds, teasing your clit with the blunt head of his cock.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers curling into the sheets. "James, please," you whimpered, pushing back against him.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "So eager for me," he murmured, positioning himself at your entrance. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you breathed, looking back over your shoulder to meet his intense gaze. "I want you, James. Please."

With a low growl, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined once again. Bucky stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against your back as he struggled to maintain control.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades. "So tight, so wet, so warm and perfect for me."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that had you gasping with each thrust. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor you as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky's hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Look,” he said, and turned your head to take in the sight of you two in the mirror.

You locked your eyes on his through the reflection. “Need you to see how gorgeous you are when you come apart for me.”

You keened for him as he pulled you back on his cock with a particularly demanding thrust.

“When I breed you.”

You gasped.

He groaned and curled his body down over your back.

Because you also clenched powerfully around his cock.

“Mmm, you like that,” he murmured right into your ear, then licked the shell of it. “Want to be bred,” he continued, pace unyielding as he split you open with his cock. “Not as much as I want to fill you up with my seed,” another thrust, “until you’re growing with my child,” another thrust, “no question who you belong to,” thrust, “that you’re claimed,” thrust, “that you’re mine.”

You were utterly breathless for a moment, and he registered that, too, just as he registers every movement, every reaction.

He continued to thrust slowly in and out of your leaking cunt, but he noticed you were no longer fluid and pliant, but that you had tensed up. He stopped. “What’s going on in your beautiful head?”

You bit your lip, and your head dropped down, turning away from his direct gaze in the mirror.

He pulled out and laid on his side next to you.

“Talk to me,” he said, and you weren’t sure if this tone was commanding or pleading, but it was certainly serious.

You sat up, folded your hands in your lap and took a deep breath. As steadily as you could, you said, “You knew my measurements and had sent a perfect wardrobe of intimates to me withing twenty-four hours of our first encounter.”

He nodded, his lips quirking up at the corner.

“So, I assume you also know I have an IUD, and that you that knew before you fucked me in the kitchen that first night at the restaurant.”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m nowhere near ready to think about children.”

He leaned up on one elbow and reached for your hands, smoothing his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “We have as much time to think about that as you want.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes searched his. You could see he wasn’t merely trying to tell you what you wanted to hear - he never had.  

“I look forward to children with you one day, but I’m in no rush. When I imagined settling down with a wife,” he continued, “I didn’t think it would be for another five or six years, but once I found you, there was no question that I wanted you.”

"I want that future with you too, just... not quite yet."

Bucky sat up, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes. "I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Sometimes I get carried away in the moment. You inspire that in me. But I never want you to feel uncomfortable or trapped.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your body relaxing as you processed his words. "I'm sorry," you murmured, leaning into his touch. "I didn't mean to kill the mood."

Bucky shook his head, pulling you closer. "Don't apologize. Communication is important, especially about something like this." His fingers traced soothing patterns on your skin.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and affection for this man who could be so commanding and intense one moment, and so tender and understanding the next. "I love you," you said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Bucky responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you as he deepened the kiss. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you too," he murmured. "More than I ever thought possible."

His hands began to roam your body again, easily reigniting the need in both of your for each other.

You broke off the kiss briefly, "Just so we're clearly communicating, breeding kink? Yes. Children yet? No."

"Noted," he laughed, and returned to devouring your lips.

Bucky shifted his position from sitting to kneeling, settling back on his heels, then with one fluid motion he turned you and pulled you into his lap with your thighs falling on either side of his into a wide, kneeling position. He lifted your hips, then lined up his cock with your entrance, and brought you down again on his length. He guided your hips until you were impaled all the way down. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a low moan from your lips.

He banded his left arm around your torso, and his right hand smoothed up your sternum, between your breasts, coming to rest in a secure hold on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, focusing on nothing but the feel of him inside you, behind you, right at your back, every inch of your bodies pressed together. Your left hand traced over his forearm, then tangled with his fingers around your waist, your other hand moving back to anchor yourself on his hip. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, then began thrusting. Each thrust seemed to push a deep moan out of you for him, and you didn’t hold back.

"Open your eyes," he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at us."

You obeyed, your gaze meeting his in the reflection of the mirror. The sight before you was breathtaking. Bucky sat tall and powerful behind you, his muscular thighs flexed as he supported your weight. Your body was on full display, skin flushed and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. His thick arm across your stomach, holding you close against his chest.

"Do you see how beautiful you are?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "How perfectly you fit with me?"

You watched in the mirror as one of his hands slowly trailed up your body, cupping your breast and teasing the sensitive peak. Your back arched at his touch, pressing you further onto his cock.

Bucky groaned, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. "That's it," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Feel me inside you."

Entranced by his words and the intoxicating view in the mirror, you began to move. You rolled your hips, grinding down onto him in a slow, sensual rhythm. Bucky's hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helped you ride him.

You watched in fascination as your bodies moved together, mesmerized by the play of muscles beneath Bucky's skin and the way your own body responded to his touch. The sight of him disappearing inside you with each downward motion was almost too much to bear.

"James," you gasped, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the pleasure built. "Oh god, James..."

“No,” he growled, and his hand went up to your neck, taking you by the throat, not aggressive, but commanding, making it clear that he wanted you to keep looking in the mirror. “I won’t let you fucking miss this.”

It occurred to you then that this handsome, audacious bastard, the fiancé who you’d given your heart to, knew exactly what he wanted when he sent you this mirror and had it placed in the exact spot in front of you now.

He wanted this.

He wanted to see this and have you see this. The debauchery and the devotion while the two of you were intimate together.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, the intensity of his gaze pushing you even closer to the brink. You watched as his free hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. The dual stimulation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your most sensitive area becoming more frantic. Bucky's grip on your hips tightened, guiding you into a faster pace.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice low and husky in your ear. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

His words, combined with the intense sensations and the erotic sight in the mirror, and touch pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as waves of pleasure washed over you. Bucky held you tightly against him, his hips still moving as he worked you through your orgasm.

"Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. "So fucking beautiful."

As the aftershocks subsided, Bucky gently turned you in his lap so you were facing him. His hands cupped your face, drawing you in for a deep, passionate kiss. You could feel him still hard inside you, and you rocked your hips, drawing a groan from his lips.

"Your turn," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

With a growl, Bucky flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, changing the angle as he began to thrust into you with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the deeper penetration, your hands clutching at his back as he sunk into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans, heavy breaths, and the slap of skin on skin.

You reached up, pulling him down for a passionate kiss while he worked up to a relentless pace. He drove into you with powerful thrusts, each one pushing the air from your lungs. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper as you felt another orgasm building.

"James," you panted, your nails raking down his back, "I'm so close again."

He growled, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. "My good girl, I’ll always give you what you need."

His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your oversensitive clit. The added stimulation was almost too much, pushing you right to the edge. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Bucky's rhythm faltered as your walls clenched around him. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he found his own release. You felt the warmth of his seed spilling inside you, prolonging your own pleasure.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Bucky's weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as you floated in post-orgasmic bliss. He pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, murmuring words of love and praise against your skin.

Eventually, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and feeling utterly content.

"I love you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

Bucky's hand stroked up and down your back, his touch soothing and gentle. "I love you too," he replied, his voice deep and warm. "More than I thought possible."

You hummed in agreement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The room was quiet save for the sound of your breathing and the faint flicker of the candles.

After a few moments, Bucky spoke again, his voice soft. "I meant what I said earlier. About children, about our future. We have all the time in the world."

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "I know," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "Thank you for understanding."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Always. We're partners in this, in everything."

You lay in comfortable silence again for a while, basking in the afterglow and each other's presence. Bucky's fingers idly traced patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"I missed this," you said softly, breaking the silence. "Having you here, holding me." Everything with him was still relatively so new, but it felt like this was exactly how it always should be.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his arms around you. "Me too. Those nights in Chicago felt endless without you."

You tilted your head up to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "Well, you're home now. And you brought me another present, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you noticed that golden box I brought in with me, did you?”

“Yes, can I have it, please?” you asked sweetly, your curiosity thrumming more with each second now that you had remembered it.

He chuckled at your eagerness, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly disentangling himself from your embrace. "Alright, love. Your wish is my command."

You watched appreciatively as he padded across the room, admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin. He retrieved the golden box from the dresser and returned to the bed, settling beside you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly, and you complied, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

You heard the rustle of paper and the soft click of a box opening. A moment later, an intoxicating aroma filled the air - rich, complex, with notes of cocoa, vanilla, and something tantalizingly exotic.

"Open," Bucky murmured.

Parting your lips, you allowed him to place a morsel of chocolate in your mouth.

The chocolate melted slowly on your tongue, releasing layers of flavor that made you moan softly in delight. Rich, dark cocoa mingled with hints of caramel and a subtle spiciness that lingered pleasantly. As the last of it dissolved, you opened your eyes to find Bucky watching you intently, his gaze dark with renewed desire.

"Good?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, licking your lips. "Incredible. What is it?"

He smiled, holding up an elegantly crafted golden box. "Amedei Porcelana. Some of the rarest and most expensive chocolate in the world. I had it flown in from Tuscany."

Your eyes widened. "James, that must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "What's the point of having money if I can't spoil my beautiful fiancée?" His fingers traced along your jawline. "Besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every penny."

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words and the intensity of his gaze. Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. The lingering taste of chocolate on your tongue mingled with his unique flavor, creating an intoxicating blend. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. "I think I might enjoy that chocolate even more when I taste it on your lips," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, reaching for the box. "Well, we have plenty more to sample. Maybe we should conduct a thorough taste test?"

Bucky's eyes darkened with desire, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I like the way you think, chef."

He took the box from your hands, selecting another piece of chocolate. This time, instead of feeding it to you, he placed it between his teeth, raising an eyebrow in challenge. You leaned in, capturing the other half of the chocolate with your lips, your mouths meeting in a sweet, decadent kiss.

As the night wore on, you continued your playful exploration, alternating between savoring the exquisite chocolate and indulging in each other. Bucky trailed pieces along your skin, following the path with his lips and tongue. You reciprocated, drawing patterns on his sculpted chest and abs with melted chocolate before licking it clean.

The room filled with soft sighs, quiet laughter, and murmured words of affection as you rediscovered each other's bodies. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow over your intertwined forms, creating an intimate cocoon that seemed to exist outside of time.

As dawn approached, you lay tangled together, satiated and drowsy. Bucky's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

"I could get used to welcomes like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling closer. "Maybe I should send you away more often if this is how you come back to me."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don't you dare. I much prefer having you by my side every day."

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Me too," you admitted softly. "Though I have to say, absence does make the heart grow fonder."

"And apparently inspires some very creative shopping," he teased, his hand skimming down your side to rest on your hip.

You laughed, a warm, carefree sound that filled the room. "Well, I had to make sure you'd remember me while you were away."

"Impossible," Bucky murmured, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek, his touch feather-light but ardent. "You're etched into every part of me now, love."

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. Even after hours of intimacy, he still had the power to make your heart race with just a look. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of your shared feelings.

As you parted, you noticed the first rays of dawn peeking in through the curtains of your window. You settled your head against his shoulder, and only just registered the press of his lips in a kiss to your forehead before you dropped off to sleep in his arms in the morning light, thoroughly exhausted and thoroughly in love with this man.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest Read more in the DEVOUR collection...

Some of this was content I cut from the final chapter of the original 4-parts of the series (heat) that once I got to the end of that chapter felt like it didn't fit anymore, but it was stuff I couldn't throw away, so I just kept it, knowing it would have a place at some point in their story later, so I'm glad I finally got to share it with you!

[diangelosdays]

i may be a little obsessed with wesper

[jeeaark]

Tribute to MVP of this fight : Us. Back when the unpatched devourer was a beast.

Never found out what Raph's final form could do thanks to this lil guy. Was hoping Raph couldn't cast magic if he got his brain ate and boy, with luck on my side, did it do more than that. Poor devil guy just kinda stood there while the ghouls took their sweet time eviscerating him.

It was.... A very slow and painful death.

Everyone else just kinda awkwardly stood there and watched since the ghouls left no room to help, probably didn't like sharing their meal.

[bunniesanddeer]

Devour

Uhhhhhh... I don't know where this came from. I have only written smut once, so ignore this if it is terrible. It's not really smut. it's more like Alastor thinking about stuff while licking you, lol.

Alastor ponders his affection for you, and his desire to devour you.

Pairing: Alastor x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Thoughts of cannibalism/violence, affection, light smut, oral female receiving, Minors DNI.

Word Count: 647 (Very, very short)

Alastor wanted to devour you. Every part of your soul. He wanted your flesh dripping from his mouth, and snared in his teeth. He wanted the taste of you to linger on his tongue for weeks, and randomly flood his mouth again. Deep down, he knew he would regret it instantly, but there was something about tearing into your body that called to him. He knew it was that he loved you, and this was the only way he could rationalize that feeling. How could anyone ever look at you, or harm you, if you were forever part of him? How could you ever turn your back to him, or leave him, if your flesh was made one with his?

Alastor could not take part of your flesh like that. He wanted you by his side, even if some small part of him didn’t. He wanted to be able to see your smile, and hear your laughter, and so he had to deny that desire. So he made the two of you one in another way.

His tongue flattened against your slit, teeth grazing against the soft skin. His claws pressed against the meat of your thighs, keeping them open for him. Alastor’s ears twitched at the soft sighs and pants that left your throat. Your hands twitched, one was pulling at his hair, soft tugs when he made your body jolt with pleasure.

Alastor loved the feeling of control he got when he touched you like this. He also felt so close to you. That possessive heat that curled low in his belly filled him to the brim when your legs spread for him. The soft cries of his name, and the way your cunt squeezed his fingers tightly. Every little thing was just for him, and it left him nearly dizzy. And how you tasted. It was something he would miss if you were gone, and thus he quelled that need.

His tongue flicked your clit, and your thighs pushed against his hands. “Calm, dearest. I’ll get you there. Just enjoy this,” he whispered, and you could only whimper in response. He loved taking his time with you. You got so desperate, and it made his cock twitch. 

Alastor lifted your thighs, letting your knees come over his shoulders, and he kneeled on the bed. His shifted the two of you back, and folded you in half. Like this, he could see the frenzied desperation on your face as he pressed his tongue into you. 

Your breath came in wild pants as he pressed his long tongue into you, curling the muscle tight. 

“Alastor… Please,” you begged, your voice barely audible. Your eyelids fluttered as he twisted his tongue about. One of his hands pressed against your navel, your warm thighs touching the top of his hand. The pressure, along with the way he flicked his tongue, and pushed it deeper inside you, sent your soft walls fluttering. 

You were so close, and he could feel it. He wanted it all to himself. 

“Come for me, mon cœur.”

Your body pulls taut under him, and he watches with deep satisfaction at the way your face contorts. 

What a wonderful sight you always made. He would never grow tired of it. It was the way you sighed, and the way your soft body went lax after an orgasm. It was the way you lazily smiled up at him, and the way your soft hands stroked his face. It was the small kisses, and the quiet sighs as he found home in you. These were some of the reasons he fought the desire to tear your beautiful body and soul to pieces. 

Alastor would never truly understand how he felt, but he knew that he wanted you beside him, even if it meant he would remain longing for something he couldn’t have for the rest of eternity. 

There is no taglist on this one, because I need to set up a Mature!Taglist. I will look into setting one up for that. Again, minors DNI. You shouldn't be able to read this.

I hope this was ok. I plan on writing smut at some point, so maybe be on the lookout for that? I will also answer NSFW asks if I am comfortable with the subject. I will let you know if I'm not.

[caliphoria17]

Aaliyah & Cruz | Special Ops: Lioness 1×06

Aaliyah x Cruz

[ellesthots]

logging on to tumblr/ao3 to read more pristine works of art that belong in the louvre

[spideystevie]

sweet nothing

summary: five glimpses of sweet nothings

word count: 3.6k

a/n: based off sweet nothing from midnights. something about this song man. it’s not edited (boo) but i hope you guys like it <3

1. tiny as a firefly.

There’s a lingering bite of winter in the morning air. You can’t remember Steve’s windows being opened last night but then again, you hadn’t been paying much attention to that. The bed grows cold without him lying next to you warming you up like the burning embers of a fire. 

A small breeze flutters the curtains. The air smells sweet, fresh like morning dew though it drives a shiver down the length of your spine. Steve’s old t-shirt’s done little to warm you up from the moment you put it on to brush your teeth this morning. You nestle yourself into the covers on his bed that still smell like him and now a hint of you intermingled. It elicits a small sound of bliss. 

The tap runs in the bathroom while Steve brushes his teeth. You hold a bundle of sheets close to you as you shift up towards the headboard. A tiny bit of heat creeps up your neck to your cheeks at the maze of clothes haphazardly left around his bedroom floor. 

Your gaze falls onto his bedside table and a disbelief crosses your eyes. It’s nothing major, something that would seem otherwise insignificant to prying eyes. A small pebble from the quarry, something he’d shoved into the pocket of his jeans on your first date. 

The water stops running and there’s a small clatter as he puts his toothbrush away. You lean across to prod at the gray stone, picking it up into your awaiting palm. 

“You still have this?” you call out. Steve pokes his head out of the bathroom, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes soften into little pools of love when he sees you bundled in his sheets, slivers of bare skin showing from his shirt hanging off your shoulder and a tiny pebble in your palm. 

“‘Course I do,” he says like it should’ve been obvious. You look up at him as he walks back to his bed, pajama pants he’d thrown on this morning sitting low on his hips. You smile up at him, scooting over so he can crawl back into bed with you. 

The bed immediately feels warmer as you curl back into his side. He plucks the pebble out of your palm and rolls it between the pads of his thumb and index finger. 

“Told you I was gonna keep it forever,” he says softly, looking at you somehow even softer. You can feel your heart melt down into liquid gold. He presses a kiss to your temple, nose buried into your hair. Steve puts the pebble back onto his side table, next to a framed photo of the two of you on your birthday.

He turns back and all but tackles you back into a reclined position in his bed, a shriek like laugh escaping you. “Steve!”

Steve’s upper body lays across yours, his forearms framing the sides of your head and holding him up above you. He’s grinning through the smattering of kisses he’s placing all along the length of your neck and every plane of your face. Your fingers fumble for purchase on his cheeks, pausing his sporadic kisses to pull his lips down to yours. It’s gentle and tender like the morning, a sweet press of his smile against yours.

2. on the way home. 

“When does your class get out?”

There’s a slight beat of silence while you finish your mouthful of cereal. A clink of metal spoons against ceramic bowls from his parent’s kitchen cabinets while you rack through your memory for the correct time. 

“3:30,” you swivel towards him on your barstool, socked foot nudging against his calf. “Why?”

“So I know when to pick you up, silly,” his smile is boyish, crooked at the corners. You shake your head, smiling despite it. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into your mouth. Steve hooks a foot around the leg of your stool and pulls it closer to his. His arm goes around your waist to steady you, hand slipping beneath your shirt to rest against the skin there. He’s eating left handed now, milk drips onto the counter from his spoon. 

“‘Course I do,” he says over a half-chewed bite of honey nut cheerios. He swallows, sets the spoon in the bowl, looks at you. “What else am I supposed to do as your boyfriend besides drive you around?”

You pretend to think, humming to really sell it. He shakes his head at you with a slight laugh. 

“I dunno,” you settle, looking at the last few pieces of cereal floating in the bowl. You feel a little shy, sparing a glance at him with a sheepish smile. Steve thinks you’re heaven sent. “Tell me you love me, for one thing.” You keep going, gesturing with your hands. “Hold my bag when my shoulder gets tired, loan me your clothes, kiss m-”

And he does. Kiss you. Right in the middle of your teasing ramble. Your bottom lip curved between his. It’s simple, sweet, leaves you with warm cheeks and a racing heart like it’s the first time all over again. 

It takes restraint not to run out the classroom doors when your professor ends the lecture. You know what’s waiting for you outside the doors to the building. A pretty boy leaning up against a flash of maroon, sporting a proud grin reserved for you. 

Just as you imagined, he’s there at the front of the parking lot. His sunglasses perch on his nose and he’s leaning his back against the passenger side of his car. You light up like stars in a night sky when you see him, feeling an almost magnetic pull to him. 

Steve slides his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head, a few wavy tendrils slipping onto his forehead while you walk up to the car, breaking into a jog when it’s close enough. His arms open at his sides, ready for you to slip into them, molding yourself back into one celestial being. 

Your arms go around his shoulders, his around your waist best he can with your backpack on. Hugging Steve always feels like it’s own way of coming home, something reaffirming and sure as the sun rising and setting. You settle onto your feet, arms sliding down until your hands rest over his chest. 

“Missed you,” Steve says. His smile is all kinds of charming and sweet like honey. Your lips twitch into a smile. 

“It’s only been like three hours,” a slight giggle coats your words as you squint up at him, the sun sitting just over his shoulder.

“I know, tell me about it,” he almost groans, dipping down to kiss your smile with his. It warms you more than the sun in the sky, leaves you feeling like you could burst at the seams. It’s innocent for the parking lot but you pull away first, eager to not cause a scene. 

Steve opens your door for you and holds your hand on the way home. He’s an eager listener when he asks about your day and you’re more than willing to spare any and every detail. You angle yourself towards him, one knee pulled up onto your seat, your joined hands settling on your thigh. 

“Totally aced that quiz from last week by the way,” you say, not even downplaying your brag. Steve grins.

“Of course you did, with the mind that you have,” he presses a kiss to your hand, waits until the next red light to kiss your proper. It happens all the time, the little spouts of praise when you do well, when you do just about anything. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of how it makes you feel sticky inside with love. 

3. in the kitchen humming. 

The wall is a crutch, holding up your sleep fatigued body. His back is to you, long stretches of muscle beneath bare skin. Freckles dot his skin, constellations you love to trace at night. The smile that stretches your lips and lifts your cheeks is fuzzy with sleep, dripping with love.

For a moment, you let this be life. Steve cooking you breakfast in his pajamas, the coffee brewing aromatic and slowly waking you up. A glimpse of normalcy, a life near into the future with your own carpeted floors and no otherworldly threats. Something muddles your heart in your chest at the thought until it’s nothing but a mess of Steve and love and everything good he brings out in you. 

He’s humming to himself as he alternates between pans, the muscles in his arms and back flexing and shifting beneath his skin as he does. You don’t think he hears you cross the kitchen to him, his socks on your feet quieting your footsteps on the tile. 

Your fingertips brush against his sides, a butterfly kiss hello to let him know you’re there. His humming morphs more into sounds of delight than a song as your arms wrap around his bare torso, your forehead pressing just below the line of his shoulders. The skin between his shoulder blades is warm, your lips pressing a lingering kiss against a freckle that makes its home there. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” his voice still has a twist of the morning in it, the edges of his words rugged. You squish your cheek against his back, your smile smushed but clear and evident in your response.

“Morning, loverboy.”

“You were supposed to be in bed,” he says. The implication of breakfast in bed is there and it leaves you soft on the edges. You feel like you’re morphing into a languid flow of burning admiration for the boy you’re wrapped around. He can feel you rub your nose across his skin, your chin settling at his right shoulder. You try to catch his eye, though you know it’s unlikely from your position. 

“Got too cold without you,” your lips pucker into a pout, one he’d kiss without a second thought had he been able to see it. You can feel the laugh rumble in his body, lighthearted, almost apologetic. He doesn’t say anything, just continues to cook breakfast, flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs. 

You don’t let go of him once, just step and move with him like you’re one beating vessel. The lingering sleep makes you feel needy, lips dragging against freckles, soft from the fatigue. When the burners are turned off, your stomach rumbles almost immediately after. It makes a laugh bubble out of Steve. 

The two of you eat at the kitchen table this time instead of the stools at the kitchen counter. Your chairs are nearly pressed together and Steve lets you drape your legs over his lap. His free hand dances over your legs, callused palm a warm comfort against your skin. Your hand sits in your lap while you eat, Steve’s giving your fingers a squeeze every now and then. 

You set your fork down, bringing your hand to the back of his head. His hair is soft between your fingers as you scratch at his scalp. It’s quiet while you eat, a specific kind of comforting silence that comes with time, with knowing each other as well as you do. 

Both of your smiles are a little slow from the weekend drowsiness. Steve’s features are muffled around the edges, soft and a little lovestruck as he looks at you. Your hair’s a little messy from sleep still, the sweater of his you wear bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’ve never looked prettier and he can’t help himself. 

He presses his lips to yours in a syrupy sweet kiss, your lips both a little sticky from breakfast. You can’t find it in yourselves to care.

4. too soft for all of it.

Steve Harrington is good. The springtime sun personified. 

You’ve known Steve long enough to know he shoulders more than he needs to, gives his all until the well is depleted. You’ve only ever known him to be selfless, brave. And you love him for all of it, but you worry about him more than anything.

His parents had come home, nothing Steve didn’t think he couldn’t handle. Until their usual one week pitstop in the big house became two, became three. It was going on an entire month, the longest they’d stayed since he was in high school and it was weighing him down.

They had insisted on having you over for dinner before they left town, making a point of saying how eager they were to “meet the person who’d be bold enough to stick around.” He tries not to dwell on his father’s comment when he makes an excuse on your behalf. A part of him wants the relief of having you there but the other part of him doesn’t want you exposed to this. 

He wants to keep you tucked inside his pocket like a hidden treasure. Keep the good and the bad parts of his life as separate from each other as he can. 

He calls you that night after they leave to catch a redeye flight to Boston, his voice almost begging you to come over. You don’t hesitate.

There’s an obvious tension radiating off of Steve’s house as you walk up to the front door. Your knuckles rap against the wood and when no one answers you worry you might’ve knocked too soft. As you lift your fist to knock again, the door swings open, and there stands Steve. 

Off the bat you can tell it’s not the Steve you’re used to. 

There’s a heaviness on Steve’s shoulders, visible at least to you, dragging him down like he’s shouldering the entirety of the world. His steps drag, eyes downturned and lips slanted into a frown. When he smiles at you it doesn’t make his eyelids kiss, doesn’t have the usual sparkle and shine. 

You’re fretting over him the minute you step into his orbit. A hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping over the skin. Steve doesn’t know how to tell you that he feels infinitely more at home now that you’re here. You don’t have to ask what’s wrong. 

There’s an unspoken communication between you as you look at each other, drinking in the other like you hadn’t seen each other for an extremely elapsed time.

His house feels cold, empty despite the two extra bodies that had been occupying the space previously. None of it feels like home. You’re desperate to change that.

You push him towards the couch, sitting him down. He wraps a hand around your wrist before you can drift into the kitchen.

“Can we just sit?” he asks. Your features soften, body deflating as you nod. You tuck yourself into the corner of the sofa, motioning for him to lay his head across your lap. Your fingers immediately tuck themselves into his hair when he does. 

He closes his eyes, lets himself come back to himself. For a moment nothing else matters but your fingers in his hair. There’s no outsiders pushing and shoving, no lingering memory of his parents. It’s just you and him and his parent’s overpriced couch. 

You give him the time to relax, breathe now that he can call his house a home again. There’s a simplicity to the love you share, a peace that you can share, a dependable comfort that you can give and take. Steve feels overwhelmed in every sense of the word.

“M’glad you came,” he says, his eyes still closed. He misses your soft smile. You give a gentle tug at his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. 

“You needed me,” you state simply. You watch the Adam's apple in his throat bob as he swallows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Was just the same thing all over again. He just kept going on and on about how I should be doing more,” a pinch forms between his eyebrows. “I feel like I should be used to it at this point, you know? But it’s so hard.”

Your fingers twist and twirl pieces of his hair, careful to be gentle.

“Can I tell you something?” his voice sounds so small when he asks. You nod before you realize he can’t see it. 

“Course you can,” you keep your voice soft.

“Sometimes I believe him. My dad. When he says those things…I don’t know, sometimes it just feels like maybe he’s right.” 

“Steve,” you frown. There’s a pause of silence only to be broken by a sniffle from Steve that he tries to disguise by pinching at his nose with his thumb and forefinger, like he can snuff out the impending tears. Your fingers pause as a tear slips past his eyelids and slides down towards his ear. “Oh, honey.”

You pull at his shoulders, awkwardly rearranging your limbs until his head is on your shoulder, face pressed into your neck. His tears are warm against your skin and leave wet splotches on the collar of your shirt. You don’t mind, running a soothing hand through his hair and up and down his spine. 

It’s not often that Steve cries, at least in front of you. Always so determined to be the strong one, the tough exterior that let things bounce off of him. Everything has to crack sometimes. On the rare accounts, it’s a private confession that only you’re privy to. That despite it all, Steve’s too soft for all of it sometimes.

“He’s wrong, you know?” you say when his tears have started to wane. He sniffles, nods against your shoulder. His hair tickles your neck. “Sometimes Steve, I think you should be doing less.”

He laughs, it’s wet and a little hoarse from his crying. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Steve you do so much and bend so far sometimes I think you’re going to snap. And I love that you care so much but I wish you’d give yourself the same amount of care and grace that you give to everyone else.”

You nudge his head, prompting him to lift it up to look at you. You wipe away the leftover wet from tears with your thumbs, keeping your hands gentle yet firm against his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says before you can say anything else. He hopes you know how deeply he means it. Hopes you know how much it means to him that you love him because he’s him, not for anything else. You kiss your response into his forehead, willing it to sink through his skin into his brain.

5. running home to your sweet nothings.

Friday seemed to last a week, the hours stretching apart like taffy and the minutes moving along like molasses. The prospect of the weekend was just out of reach, a mirage off the horizon. 

You’d had a morning class and work right after, Steve working at the same time which meant he didn’t get to drive you. The last you’d seen of each other was a blurry rush that morning as you danced around each other, pressing a quick goodbye closer to your chin than your mouth before getting out the door. 

It wasn’t clear if it was the day actually being long or being apart from one another that made time seem to shift along as slowly as it could. You wanted nothing more than to be within the four walls of his parent’s house, a place you’d found a way to make home with them gone. 

Steve’s car is in the driveway when you pull up outside. There’s a clatter in the kitchen, a telling sound of Steve getting ready to make dinner for the two of you. You’re toeing off your shoes, body feeling heavy with exhaustion when he comes into view. 

“Honey, you’re home,” he grins, quick to gather you up in your arms. You relax into him, arms wrapped around his middle. He laughs a little at the way your body sinks against him. “Tired?”

“Very,” you all but groan. “Missed you. Was too long.”

You’re not as coherent, sentences clipped but the sentiment is there. Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head, his nose smushed into your hair. It smells like his shampoo.

“Was gonna make us dinner, pretty thing. Does that sound good?” he loosens his hold on you for a moment to look at you. You hold him tighter against you, inhaling him in while you drag your head against his chest until your chin sits against it. He smiles down at you, a hand moving to smooth out your hair. “There y’are.”

Your smile is lovesick and blurred with fatigue around the edges. “Can’t we just lie down? Skip dinner?”

Your grumbling stomach corrupts any option of skipping dinner. Steve laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest. He stoops to kiss you, pliant and soft. 

“We can lay in bed the rest of the night after dinner, yeah? The whole weekend even,” he says, lips close enough to yours that they brush against yours when he talks. “That sound good?”

You nod, kissing him again.

He stays true to his word, doesn’t even bother with the dishes after dinner. Instead, he ushers you up to his bedroom. The two of you are in your own little trance as you get ready for bed, soft sleepy giggles filling the spaces between you. 

You teeter on the edge of sleep almost immediately when you get into bed, Steve’s hushed sweet nothings against your ear lulling you into sleep. Steve thinks he could burst with how much he loves you, with the knowledge that you love him just the same as you stitch yourself against him in your sleep. 

Love flowed steady between you, simple and serene. You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[silver244]

Just a lil doodle of Moon

I’m so normal about him I swear 🤚

love, death & rollerskates fanfic by: @spadillelicious

[harmonity-vibes]

He went from "Hello, sir"...

to "Your daughter also calls me Daddy".

[call-me-mrs-winchester]

MARI'S MAIN MASTERLIST

hi, everyone! i'm so greatful you're here. hope you enjoy my works! remember, every like, (positive) comment, & reblog will light up a writer's day.

most of these will have strong themes so make sure you read the warnings on each piece.

if you don't want to miss any of the featured below, join my tag list here!

RPF

jensen ackles masterlist

SUPERNATURAL

dean winchester masterlist | sam winchester masterlist

THE BOYS

soldier boy masterlist

BIG SKY

beau arlen masterlist

TRACKER

russell shaw masterlist

DEVOUR

jake gray masterlist

SMALLVILLE

jason teague masterlist

DAWSON'S CREEK

c.j. braxton masterlist

10 INCH HERO

boaz priestly masterlist

MY BLOODY VALENTINE

tom hanniger masterlist

DARK ANGEL

alec mcdowell masterlist

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO CALL-ME-MRS-WINCHESTER

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[luna-loveboop]

Legend sick fics you say 👀

Well I don’t think I remember too many sick fics off the top of my head but weathered and wavering by Quirkle is very good.

Once you have a collection please do share with the class 🫶

Hehe yeah. Here is the original post about Legend sick fics. I got a lot of recommendations in the replies and reblogs that are so cool- seriously I read a ton of them and you guys are so awesome (/gen)

@uniquevoidflowers wrote this fic for me which is amazing of course- it has some of the coolest imagery with a flower thermometer which makes me very happy

Pretty much all of @skyward-floored 's sick fics are awesome, including this legend one that was instantly recommended to me by quite a lot of people lol (since it was posted very recently) (go read it)

Fill the cracks with gold by @sister-dear was so fun to read, it might be one of my favourites for Four

I loved Hiding behind plaster and ceramics by @occasionallyprosie -it had a lot of takes I hadn't seen before and was also very good writing

@arecaceae175 recommended down, a nine chapter sickfic that is really good, I loved reading it.

There's a lot of other ones, and most of them are in the notes of the post I made:

@the-au-collector made this reblog with a ton of good recommendations, and @hero-of-the-wolf reblogged with one I liked. Idk if the links can work like that but we'll find out

And my wisdom tooth surgery went well :D I've stayed off the internet for a bit of recovery. I'm good I'm just not doing too much interacting when I'm tired *shrug*. I was scared because my health is always so bad but it was ok. :))) I have definitely spent a lot of time reading- I knew it was a good idea to ask for sick fics for surgery week XD

So that's the lovely list of sick fics I've been reading- for when you get your wisdom teeth out. Or you're not feeling well, or you just feel like reading. Anyways.

Also my mind is still pretty tired right now but I wanted to answer this- I hope it's ok for everyone I tagged, and my phrasing and language isn't good right now, sorry. Love you guys /plat <333

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: HEAT (4/4)

Collection: DEVOUR Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!James Buchanan Barnes x Chef Female!Reader Word Count: 7k

Summary: James returns from business in another city with the intention of spending the morning with you, more than a few surprises up his sleeve, whether you're ready for them or not.

Content & Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT - somnophilia, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, vibrating dildo, anal plug, brief masturbation, unprotected vaginal intercourse, double penetration, creampie. Feelings, so many feelings.

Logistical Notes: Salt, fat, acid, and now heat - this is the long-awaited final chapter of their series. Happy Mob Boss Monday!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You were vaguely aware of feeling much cooler than you should as you registered your hip being nudged so you were lying flat against the mattress. You were still clinging to slumber, not fully roused to the world of the waking, so you didn’t move when you felt the flat edge of a knife slipped between your skin and the silk of your panties, and you didn’t react to the snick of the clean cut of fabric over your right hip and then the left. You weren’t interested as someone peeled away the exquisite and expensive piece of underwear.

Though your legs were slightly open after being shifted from your side to your back, there was another gentle push against your leg to open your thighs a little more. Distantly something stirred in you as fingers gently caressed up your thigh and to your pussy laid bare to the morning sun. Those fingers began to gently play with your folds, eliciting wetness at your entrance. One finger gave a whisper of a press into your vaginal opening a few times, drawing a soft, short, breathy moan from you, and you subconsciously parted your legs further.

For all of that you were drowsy and docile.

The warm fingers left you for a moment, and then there was a cool pressure against your cunt, the sudden temperature change prompting a small sleepy, “Oh,” from you. More of the cool, firm pressure was applied, and then the sudden vibration of the cool object against your clit jolted you awake, eyes flying open and torso contracting suddenly upwards from the bed.

That dark, deep chuckle that always flooded you with heat poured into your ears, and a strong, now-familiar, calloused hand smoothed over your stomach and forced you gently but firmly back onto the mattress.

“James,” you keened.

“I’m disappointed,” he tutted, then pressed a kiss just above your knee.

“What?”

You racked your brain – not an easy feat when you were only just coming into consciousness for the day and being accosted with teasing pleasure at your core – but you couldn’t think of anything he could be disappointed in. Not with that tone, not with you, but he seemed genuinely disappointed. You detected even a tenor of anger in his tone.

“You’ve left some of my gifts entirely untouched,” he explained, pressing the vibrator insistently against your clit.

You groaned, and the heat of embarrassment surged rampantly through your body along with the pleasure. Your hands flew to your face, and you tried to close your legs, but he held them firmly open to his ministrations.

You knew immediately what he was talking about and what exactly was between your legs.

A sleek, black dildo that you’d only looked at for a few seconds before slamming the box shut again – long enough to register that it was a size you’d bet dimes to dollars was close in size to the cock of the man who sent it to you. Were you having copious amount of sex with notorious mob boss James Buchanan Barnes? Yes. Were you wearing the high-end bras and underwear he spoiled you with, a constant reminder of the intimate place he was establishing in your life? Yes. But using the sex toys he had selected and sent to you was the line you’d drawn at too intimate.

And now instead of using it solo, the man had the audacity to torture you with it himself.

And the torture was exquisite.

Six weeks of this man, and your body knew when to yield and drip for him. He had prepared your pussy, coaxed enough wetness, to take the dildo with ease even through the intrusion of its size, lacing the discomfort with pleasure. You moaned as he finished driving it in to the hilt. He played with the angle, pushing it up and back, teasing you with different points of pressure that made you pant and cant your hips.

“Feel good?” He asked in a smug tone.

“Yes,” you huffed, knowing he knew how you felt and only wanted you to admit it out loud for his own satisfaction. But if you didn’t, he’d delay your satisfaction, and audacious bastard though he might be, you craved him now, and delighted in the indulgence of him. “More, James, more.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Chef.”

And he did. Immediately.

He twisted the dildo, then pulled it halfway out before pushing it back into your slick channel. You closed your eyes, but you knew he watched your face closely for what made you feel good, adjusting his pace until your breath hitched and you clutched the sheets. Then he kept that pace and only applied a bit of additional force in the thrusts.

He drove you on and on until he finally pushed you over the edge, and you gave a sharp cry of ecstasy.

He worked the toy in your cunt just a bit more, making you twitch in response, and then he crawled up your body and you pulled him in for a few heated kisses.

“What are you doing here, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Though you had spent increasingly more time with him, this was the first time he’d been to your apartment. It was small and modest, and you were in no way ashamed (since he had also started to regularly send either a housekeeper or cleaning staff of some kind to take care of you place, you also weren’t worried about any mess), but you were surprised.

“I know it’s your day off.”

You chewed lightly on your bottom lip.

“And I know that look,” he continued with a smirk. “You’re not quite happy with me. I’ve shown up unannounced when I know you have plans and certainly have intentions for your unplanned time, but I wanted to see you this morning. Give me breakfast and then I promise to let you send me away as soon as you want.”

He kissed you again.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Mmm, missed you, too.” You wrapped your arms around him, pleased that he’d stripped down to his boxer briefs before joining you in your bed. “Breakfast would be nice.”

He grinned and then continued the kiss. You encouraged him, eagerly wrapping your arms around his neck and chest. You hitched a leg up around his hip, and then groaned when he pressed his bulge into your core as it pushed against the dildo still lodged inside of you.

He chuckled again, then reached down and drew out the black silicone in one slow pull. There was no ignoring the sound it made, the shlick as it came out of your messy cunt.

Then he drew it up to your mouth.

“Lick it,” he said.

Eyes locked with his, you stuck out your tongue and he slid it slowly over it. Then he set it aside and resumed kissing you, purposely circling his tongue around yours, sharing the taste of your arousal in your mouth. He groaned his approval and plundered your mouth for long enough that both of your chests were heaving against each other when he pulled away. James slowly pressed hot kisses over your face – softly on each of your closed eyes, your cheeks, your nose, you chin, your forehead, then back down to your lips. You pressed your forehead to his and sighed in sleepy contentment. You twined your fingers with his at your hip. He rutted his hard cock insistently against your core, watching your face. And he kept at it until you were all but begging for him.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good, I’m ready to fill you up.”

But you whimpered as his actions immediately indicated the opposite as he abruptly rolled off you and slid out of bed.

“What? What are you-“

“Breakfast.” He smirked down at you, already pulling on a pair of lounge pants. “Going to fill you up with breakfast. What did you think I meant?”

You groaned at the blatant mischief in his eyes and hurled a pillow at him. He caught it with ease, laughed, and tossed it back to your bed as he left your bedroom. “See you in the kitchen,” he called back.

“Handsome bastard,” you grumbled as you rolled out of bed and padded along after him. You grabbed the silk robe hanging off the back of your door on your way, knotting and trying it off around your waist.

The incredible smell of some kind of warm bread hit you as you stepped out of your room. You inhaled deeply and moved more quickly, drawn by the heavenly scent, but you paused on seeing him in the kitchen. You had expected to see him at most plating up something that he’d brought or had delivered.

That was not the case.

Instead, he stood behind the counter next to your stove, handling ingredients that had come from a small crate like he was on a Food Network show.

He glanced up. “Yes, I’m cooking for you. Sit and relax,” he said, gesturing at the stool on the other side of the counter.

“James Buchanan Barnes, did you actually bake something?”

You tried to sidle into the actual kitchen, but he quickly blocked you off with his broad body.

“I. Am. Cooking. For. You.” He paused between each word, his tone serious.

“Are you really barring me from my own kitchen?”

You tilted your head up and fixed him with a look half amusement, half incredulity.

He leaned in, cupped your face in both of his hands, and kissed you soundly until you melted against his chest. When he pulled back, your lips chased his.

“Let me take care of you,” his words were gentle but firm, spoken tenderly against your lips.

One last indulgent kiss, and then he turned you around by your shoulders, and you finally did as you were told and took the seat across the counter from him.

James reached for an English muffin out of a small basket on the counter, split it open easily with a knife, and then buttered it. The butter melted immediately, and you grinned.

“You made English muffins from scratch?”

“You never dreamed I could cook on top of everything else – too good to be true?” He winked and you rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Try it,” he said and slid you a small plate with half the muffin on it, taking a bite out of the half he kept back.

You lifted the bread to your lips and gingerly took a bite. It was soft, warm, and beyond the smooth tang of the melted butter that bled through the crumb, the taste far surpassed any English muffin that you could buy at the store. You let out a content hum, and your shoulders relaxed, the delight from the simplicity of the rich flavors in your mouth flooding your body with serotonin.

James smiled, just a hint of his cocky confidence lacing it, and then he got to work, filling a saucepan with water and setting it on the stove to bring it up to a simmer. He pulled more supplies from his box as you watched. Butter, lemon, eggs.

Given that your life was devoted to food and cooking, this was a bold gesture - and one no one you had ever been involved with had attempted. They were either too lazy or too intimidated or too dim to realize that even though you could cook, someone taking care of you in this way was a beautiful and indulgent gift.

“When did you get back?” you asked. He’d been gone for three days, but you hadn’t expected him back in the city until tomorrow.

He looked over at the clock on the wall. “Two hours ago.”

You blinked.

“You come straight here?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed in the affirmative without looking up from the frying pan as he slapped a healthy amount of butter onto its surface and set that on the stove as well.

Your heart soared, beating happily, and you folded your arms and rested them on the counter, leaning forward on your stool. The corners of your mouth unable to do anything but smile. You saw his mouth had relaxed into a soft smile as well.

While the butter melted, he separated yolks from egg whites, and beat them together in a glass bowl. When the pot of water was steaming, he took the glass bowl with the egg yolks and set it over top of the saucepan and continued to whisk them.

Now you knew what he was making.

“Eggs Benedict?” you asked.

“It’s one of your favorites.”

“How did you know?”

“I know more about you than you give me credit for.”

You didn’t want to touch that yet, but perhaps later, you thought.

“You’ve ordered it a few times when we’ve been out for brunch. It’s also one of my specialties.”

“Homemade English muffins, whipping up a hollandaise without much effort… you can actually cook,” you remarked.

He kept his focus on incorporating the butter into the yolks properly, but still responded. “You somehow continue to underestimate me in many areas, Chef.”

That assertion nudged your conscience a little, but his tone was teasing, so you kept the level of banter going. “You still have to successfully poach the eggs and make sure your hollandaise doesn’t split. But if you manage to pull it off, I might have to take you back to bed after breakfast.”

He chuckled, and your core rumbled a little.

You sat with rapt attention and watched. You didn’t scrutinize, but it crossed your mind that there were probably very few men who would have had the self-assurance to cook in front of you without worrying or getting irritated, even though you knew you weren’t judging, only interested in observing someone else at your craft.

And as you sat, you did turn over his comment in your head – that you were underestimating him.

It had been seven weeks since everything started with this mob boss. He had insinuated himself into many aspects of your life, but as you navigated whatever it was that was developing between you two, most of the time his intrusions were welcome, if somewhat hesitantly by you at first - like fully exchanging your intimates, or hiring a housekeeper for your apartment (you had yet to see them, and you had to confess it felt nice to have some work eliminated from your plate). He had been incredibly aggressive about folding himself into many aspects in your life. Some of the evolution of this relationship had been thrilling, had you giddy, or quite simply stunned over the moments of softness or seeming adoration. Through any of the challenges, James had been open to any wants and needs you expressed when you brought them to his attention. What’s more, there hadn’t been many things to address with him – the time he spent with you wasn’t merely additional hours clocked, but as you looked back you had to confess it was time he spent truly getting to know you.  

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways, but had you gotten caught up in trying to preserve yourself?

The morning after the first night you’d slept together and stayed the night at his penthouse, you had been able to dress out of the closet he had already stocked for you. While a little shocking, it had not ultimately been surprising. It had bordered on overwhelming. The novelty and spoiling had been fun and flattering. That he had been able to stock a closet so well-suited to your taste and needs had been the part that edged toward the overwhelming side, but you ignored the more serious parts of the grand gesture, classified it as yet another audacious choice, not a sign of his knowing you or the clear signal that he was ready to have you seriously embedded in his life – in his home. He hadn’t said anything or even insinuated that you should move in, he just let that closet of clothes exist for you. It was a statement, but not a demand.

Aside from the housekeeper he’d started to send around to your place, he also had enlisted some kind of laundry service to take care of more of your needs, and last week before he left for his business trip he personally slipped a black card into your wallet.

“There,” your mob boss declared, spinning the two plated masterpieces toward you. “These would certainly be approved for service, would they not, Chef?”

You were impressed. “They look stunning. Final judgement at the table.”

You started to reach for one of the plates, but James tutted at you and carried them both over to the table, seating you at the corner next to each other where place settings had already been laid out. He was thorough, including going back to the fridge to retrieve a carafe of juice.

“And did you press this by hand?” you asked as he poured a glass for each of you.

He laughed. “No, I didn’t have time to grow and harvest the fruit myself, so it felt like cheating. This is the one my home chef keeps on hand for me.”

“I do like your chef. Do you think I could steal them for my restaurant?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he took his seat next to you. “Enough. Eat.”

You took up your knife and fork and made the first, signature cut into the egg draped with its silky hollandaise sauce. The yolk oozed, slow and gorgeous. “That’s a top tier poach,” you shot the praise truthfully.

James smiled and watched as you lifted the first bite to your mouth.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes closing momentarily. “Nothing beats a beautiful benedict.”

“Success,” he crooned, finally digging into his own dish. He didn’t ask if for further accolades, didn’t ply you for more praise, again speaking to his nature – confident, perhaps too confident at times, but sure of himself.

After your second bite, you still reaffirmed your assessment. “Really, James, the sauce is the perfect consistency, and that English muffin could have carried the whole dish on its own if the rest had been just okay.”

He squeezed your thigh under the table. “Thank you.”

The two of you eat in silence for a few moments before James spoke again. “Where’s your lovely head this morning? You went somewhere while I was cooking.”

You looked at him, tilting your head while you chewed. His blue eyes, strong, piercing, warm, captivating, looked directly into yours. He really did see you in more ways than you had been giving him credit for.

Being with this man for the past seven weeks had changed something in you. Over the years you had learned to be direct and go after what you want, but not in romantic endeavors. When you were younger, you didn’t have the skills, experience, or confidence. Over the past few years, you had been clear and direct in the rare forays into talking or dates, but there had been nothing long or meaningful enough to require directness and vulnerability from you. You had been able to be direct with James, but you had skirted around being exposed to some of the moments of vulnerability.

But there was not much more skirting that you could do.

James had shown he was willing to show up.

It was time for you to do the same.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said – that I’ve been underestimating you. I think… You might be right.”

James leaned forward, reached for your hand, and brought it to his lips. He murmured your name softly against the palm of your hand and then pressed a long kiss there. You took a breath to calm your suddenly racing heart. “I know who I am. I don’t blame you having certain ideas of who that is or putting on your own armor to keep yourself safe.”

He let your hands fall to the table but kept a tight hold on your fingers.

“I ate at Devour for the first time a few months ago. The food was immaculate. I was looking to invest in new ventures and diversify my portfolio, so I started looking into buying the restaurant. It had a good track record, its reputation had been steadily growing, the location was prime, the service impeccable. The only point of debate that came back in my team’s assessment of whether to buy the establishment was our discovery the head chef was retiring.

“You were the heir apparent and confirmed successor, so we researched you, too. Clean background, solid career building; I saw that you were pretty, but that was immaterial – merely a PR bonus if we wanted to generate more buzz for the restaurant at any point. We ordered out and dined in many times the month leading up to your takeover so that we could have a solid handle on the standard we expected and could gage if there would be any significant changes night one.

“A third of the dining room that night was filled with my people. You introduced a few new dishes to the menu, bit it was conclusive all around that the quality had been maintained, and nothing had fundamentally changed. I walked in that night planning to make my purchase as long as I was satisfied, and I was.

“The last thing I wanted was to see the new head chef face to face before making the deal so I could get a sense of who you were off the page and beyond your plates.”

“I remember being summoned to a table rather inconveniently on the biggest night of my career,” you interjected.

He chuckled. “And I could see that fire in your demeanor. It confirmed my purchasing decision, but it also made me want to devour you.”

And he had. He had temporarily dismissed your staff, told you he was tripling your salary, and then roughly sexed you up according to his pleasure – giving you some of the best sex you’d had, but not because you wanted it that night, only because he had.

“New business acquisition, new girl,” you teased. But it was defensive.

He grunted and shook his head. “No. You’ve invested so much of yourself into your career and the restaurant that you assume they’d be tied together, but they’re not. To me there was the restaurant and then there was you. I only played my hand to my advantage to keep you there. If you’d walked after that night, I would’ve gone looking for you.”

You frowned at him, but he continued before you could argue.

“You weren’t easy. There are so few people in my life who don’t bow or bend to me, I wanted more of that.”

“You wanted the challenge?”

“No, more than the challenge, I wanted you for your strength. I was the mob boss you thought I was that night, but then you turned me into a man – demanded I be a version of myself who was worthy of you if I wanted more, and I did want more of you. You stopped making time for men because they kept disappearing or disappointing, didn’t you?”

You sighed.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Neither of us are content with easy. You wanted someone to romance and adore you, but you also needed someone who would challenge you, meet you stride for stride.”

“Don’t be smug,” you said.

“I told you the first night we slept together, I’m not smug about you. After things started unfolding between us, you drew me in. I wanted more than just sex. I knew I could get that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head and put a finger to your lips. “We were both eager for it – those first encounters, and especially the first night together, now let me finish.”

You huffed, but you knew he wasn’t wrong. The sex had been heated and irresistible every time.

“I think you’ve worried more than you needed to over whether I want you, or if I knew what I was getting into.”

It was like he was reading pages of your most private thoughts. His eyes were impossibly intense now, and it made your chest ache.

“This has never been about someone to warm my bed. I’m too busy, and my life was just fine before. I want you, and, yes, glorious amounts of sex with you, but it’s your passion and your spirit I crave. You’ve seen me for more than who you thought I was in the beginning.”

“You’re remarkable, I couldn’t help being drawn to you,” you confessed. You’d called him audacious so many times, but that was only one facet of James Buchanan Barnes. He was passionate, intelligent, bold, calculating, and decisive. 

“You’ve let down some of your guards around and let me in, and because you do, I let you see pieces no one else knows. We’re swimming in deeper waters with each other all the time.”

You brought your hand up to his cheek and kissed him fiercely but briefly, needing to feel his lips on yours for a moment. You wanted so much more, but you knew he wasn’t finished, so you drew back.

He drew both your hands into his, resting them on the table between you two.

“I knew that if I ever married, I wanted a partner, not another yes person. The more time I’m with you, the more my soul hungers for you to be that part of my life. I want your company, your opinions, your soft snores, your teasing, your ideas. I’m insatiable for you, in every way. The first night I knew I wanted you, but that second night I saw in you my wife.”

“Your wife?” you gasped, your jaw going slack with surprise. But you didn’t make another sound or even a movement as his words swirled every thought in your head.

He waited, eyes still locked on yours. It was more than a full minute of silence before he finally spoke again. “Eventually, yes. Does that scare you?”

“No,” you said, without hesitation.

His words had brought you back and seemingly brought your frenzied thoughts into alignment. The only potential barrier your brain identified was time. But he wasn’t asking you to marry him right now, he was only asking if you were scared of potentially being his wife.

And that didn’t scare you.

Truthfully you would have cut things off if there had been any moment you didn’t see a long way down the road with him – you’d done it plenty of times with men before. Like him, you were too busy to trifle with men just to be coupled. You’d fought not only to make something of yourself in your career, but to make something of yourself in your life so that you didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.

“It doesn’t scare me either,” he said.

Then he swept his napkin from his lap, laid it on the table, and, in no rush, pushed back his chair and stood up from the table. He tugged on your hand gently, invitingly, nodding toward the hall and back to your bedroom.

Your head and your heart were full – clear but full – so you let James take the lead.

His hands moved deftly and delicately as they untied the knot of your silk tie of your robe, then pushed it down off your shoulders, letting his fingers skim enticingly over your skin, and turned to hang it on the back of your bedroom door. Next his hand found the hem of your silk chemise and pulled it up you’re your hips, and you lifted your arms so he could sweep it clean up off your body. He set it gently on the end of your dresser before turning back to you. Then he stepped closer than he had been before, cupped your jaw in both hands, and lowered his face to capture your lips in another kiss. Slow, warmth and fire behind it, but still no rush. You slanted your mouth against his and darted your tongue out to tempt entrance, which he granted, licking into your mouth in kind.

From the very beginning, whether they were slow or frenzied, his kisses have always been so passionate they were intoxicating, and you never wanted that to end between the two of you.

You craved him almost constantly, and in so many ways. He had seeped into your bones and your veins and so many of your waking thoughts, like the thrumming undercurrent of your heartbeat.

James eased you back slowly until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he gently urged you back. “Get up there for me,” his voice husky and his pupils taking over his blue irises.

You scooted as smoothly as you could manage until you were most of the way up the bed, not wanting to put distance between you, but knowing it wouldn’t last long. You leaned back on your elbows, a slight shiver running down your spine as your eyes met James’ gaze, drinking in the full form of your naked body – far from the first time he’s seen it over the past few weeks, but the intensity still affected you, there was still vulnerability of newness in this relationship.

James pulled the soft t-shirt up and off his torso. Then, not looking away from you, he pushed down his lounge pants and stepped out of them. The sight of his thick, hard cock made your breath hitch, eager to feel the way he stretched and filled you up, but he remained rooted to his spot and began slowly pumping one hand up and down his length while he looked at you.

“Spread your legs for me, love,” he said.

You gasped because it was the first time either of you had vocalized the word to each other.

“I do,” he confirmed, “I love you.”

“James…”

He smiled. “Now, show me that pretty cunt, my love.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you let your legs drop open like a butterfly.

He moaned appreciatively and continued to slowly stroke his cock as he stepped forward. “Pretty and wet and mine.”

He joined you on the bed, quickly slotting his large form in the cradle of your thighs. He pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, but you guided his head up to yours.

“I love you, too,” you murmured fervently against his lips.

His eyes flared with happiness and satisfaction - a look you had grown familiar with, and one you relished in knowing you caused.

As he kissed you again, he propped himself up on one arm by your head, but his other hand landed on your puffy and dripping folds to lavish languid attention, not designed to drive you to orgasm, but only to dole out pleasure while his expert fingers played with your body. As ever, you were simultaneously eager for more but ready to relish the experience.

While James had you pinned down with the weight of his body, eventually you began to squirm and rock your hips, seeking more. Soft mewls tumbled out of you, and you scratched your nails down his broad back.

“Need,” you gasped when he broke off the kiss.

He pecked your lips to cut you off. “I know what you need.”

He pushed himself up, grabbed a pillow, placed it down next to your hip. You hummed as he and rolled you over and onto the pillow, propping your hips up for him. Spreading your knees with his, he knelt behind you. You stretched your right arm up above your head, grasping at the sheets to steady yourself for whatever he had in store for you next, and reached your left hand back, silently seeking his hand to twine with your, which he complied with, settling your entwined fingers together at your hip. Meanwhile, his free hand passed soothingly up and down the length of your right side, from knee to ribs, down and up and down again. He planted kisses from the base of your spine up to your neck, and it was so soft and intimate your eyes welled with tears, nearly overwhelmed with just how adored this unhurried worshipful moment made you feel. You blinked back the moisture in your eyes and focused on breathing.

His kisses continued up the side of your neck, and when he suddenly nipped at your ear, you laughed and swatted playfully at him.

He rolled away from you, and a whine of protest escaped your throat.

James chuckled.

“Just a moment,” he reassured you as he reached for something on the bedside table. You heard a small click you couldn’t place, then some other soft sounds of movement. When he rolled back to face you, you looked down to see what he’d retrieved.

You gasped and then looked back up to his face immediately, heat rising in your neck and cheeks.

But it wasn’t embarrassment that you felt, it was the rush of trepidatious arousal, hesitant because this was an area you’d never ventured in the sexual realm.

In his hand was the smallest from a set of platinum anal plugs set with sapphires, and it was prepared with lube.

“Oh,” the soft syllable fell from your lips.

“Trust me?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back. Then he released your hand and settled back to his kneeling position between your splayed thighs again. He caressed the swell of your ass, first one cheek, then the other. His thumbs spread your crack open, and gently nudged at the tight ring of muscle at your entrance a few times before he placed the rounded metal end of the plug at the puckering.

“Relax, let me feel you breathe,” he said. You took a deep breath in. Out. And with your next breath in, he pushed the plug softly in. You held your breath as he slowly finished slotting it inside of you. Then he was up near your cheek, nuzzling you softly. “How does that feel?”

You took a beat to think before answering. “Full.” You breathed in and out again. “Good.”

You felt him grin against your skin. “Good.”

His thumb lightly tapped against the jeweled end, and your breath hitched slightly. He waited a moment, tapped again, and again your breath hitched. He chuckled. “So responsive, love.”

You huffed and burrowed your face into the sheets.

“But still good?” he checked in.

“Yes,” you groaned. The feeling of your tight hole being full was unbelievably intense because it was so foreign, so insistent, so much. The plug provided an ever-present push, and the more moments that passed, the more your body latched onto it the rush. It laced every thought. His light taps on the plug had jolted that pleasure, giving it sharp, blissful pulses.

Another laugh at your reluctant acknowledgement. “I’ll stop teasing,” he promised. “For now,” he added.

He lined up the tip of his cock at the entrance to your weeping channel, hunched down over your back, and then slowly, deliciously, pushed his thick length inside of you. You moaned openly through every second of it, then took a deep breath when he settled in at the hilt.

James waited there, chest pressed against your back, letting you adjust to the sensation of being filled in both places at once. He peppered kisses along your shoulder.

“Mmm, ready for you to move,” you drawled through your haze.

One hand held the top of your hip, and he planted his arm at your side so he could get the right leverage to begin thrusting in and out of your cunt. He took a slow approach, but it still engulfed you immediately. His cock moving within your cunt while you were plugged, immovable fullness in one hole and a shifting fullness in the other, was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. The presence of the plug dialed up every other sensation you were experiencing as James started to speed up his thrusts.  

You fought to acclimate to the overwhelming fullness, as he gradually increased the pace of his thrusting, but your orgasm crashed over you earlier than either of you expected. Your body seized up and then shook as you cried out in ecstasy beneath him. He groaned as you milked his cock, then growled as he sped up even more.

His hand circled your hip to dive beneath your pelvis, in search of your clit.

You keened when his expert fingers found your swollen bud.

“Have to give me another, need you to cum with me,” he demanded, chest rumbling against your back.

His fingers dealt out exquisite torture as he circled your clit.

Your second orgasm built and crested, drawn out in longer bliss this time, and as your walls clenched this time, they triggered the release of your mob boss as well. He gave a shout, muffled into your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. You could feel the heat of it as he emptied himself fully inside you, and you relished in it, arching your back and stretching your arms out satisfyingly in the bursts of pleasure that rolled through your body in the aftershocks.

You turned your head to kiss your lover, full and satiated. He indulged and returned the kiss in kind but broke it off much too soon for your liking, also withdrawing his cock from your well-used cunt. You gave a little moan of protest, but he kissed your forehead.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he assured you.

Too blissed out and loathe to move yet, you stayed exactly where you were, listening to James’s footsteps moving away to the bathroom. The running tap signaled a quick clean up, and when he returned, he had a warm washcloth to tend to you as well. He carefully removed the plug, and murmured, “You did so good for me.”

A little something fluttered ever so slightly at his soft praise. After he wiped away the mess of your combined spend, he tossed the washcloth to your laundry hamper, removed the pillow from beneath your hips, then settled down on his side on your mattress and collected your boneless body in his arms. You sighed in contentment.

“You ready to send me away yet?” he asked.

“No, you’ve earned at least a few more minutes.”

“Good, because I have one more thing for you.”

You laughed. “I might need a little more recovery time, muscles don’t want to move.”

He reached over to your bedside table, opened the drawer, and pulled something out, but your eyes were drifting closed. You thought maybe he would relent and leave you be for at least a short amount of recovery time if you fell into a light doze.

But of course, he would not.

No.

James Buchanan Barnes, endearing but audacious bastard that he was, couldn’t let you rest.

He withdrew your hand from his chest and deposited something into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it, before he kissed your knuckles.

As your fingers registered the size and shape of the object in your hands – small and square, smooth surfaces, but tied with a satin bow – you stopped breathing, and your eyes flew open.

His face held the softest smile you had ever seen on his features. His thumb brushed smooth, reassuring circles, over the inside of your wrist. “Marry me.”

Your eyes flickered between his piercing blue gaze and the Tiffany blue box in your hands, mouth agape. You had resumed breathing, but you were speechless – happiness tinged with hesitancy. Your eyes went back to him, searching his face, and you knew he was searching your again. “In the other room, you said eventually.”

“Marry me tomorrow, or marry me in five years, but I know what I want,” his tone underscoring his evident resolve. “I told you, I’ve known since very early on, and every moment only solidifies how certain I am I can’t see a future I want more than one that involves you.”

You leaned in to kiss him. He was clever, your mob boss. Strategic. But you also believed he was sincere.

You broke the kiss this time. “I won’t marry you tomorrow, but I don’t want to wait five years, either.”

“We can set the timeline later, but now I want to see my ring on your finger, Chef.”

He reached to start tugging the white bow loose, but you tsked at him and went to work, untying the satin. You opened the blue box, then let your fingers run over the smooth velvet of the smaller box within. Neither of you spoke, the moment charged with anticipation. You tilted back the top half of the ring box.

“Oh, James,” you marveled.

The ring he’d selected could not have been more perfect. The setting of the stones was stunning.

You let him withdraw the ring from its cushion and slip it onto your finger.

Already having proven his track record when it came to knowing things about you, you didn’t question how he had managed to get the perfect sizing for your engagement ring.

Hours later, after hours of kissing and numerous post-engagement orgasms, you did ask how long that ring box had been in your top drawer, but he laughed and assured you only that morning.

You were reasonably sure that was the case, but with him, there was no telling for sure.

And now you knew this mischievous man and mob boss would continue to surprise and challenge you for a lifetime.   

THIS CONCLUDES THE ARC OF THEIR SERIES! I hope it provides a satisfying ending that you were able to devour! I have already written a few pieces for them that take place after this, and I imagine there will be drabbles here and there (there were two things I cut from this chapter already because of how things ended up flowing, and one of them I do at least still see as a conversation they will have in the midst of some smut), but we have at least gotten them from the beginning of their journey to where I wanted them to land in the original four parts I sketched out over a year ago.

Let me know what you think, now that you know how their story has been told! I can't believe we made it!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Devour Me - Ten

               Your head pounded and your stomach churned as you felt your body floating in the air. The last thing you remember is Pyramid Head covering your face with a chemical covered cloth. Slowly, you open your eyes to see him carrying you. The area was dark ad the only indication that gave away that it was him, was how close you held you against him.

               “Wh-where are we going?” You mumble out with a stutter. He doesn’t answer and a part of you felt stupid to even ask a question like that knowing he cant talk. His heavy footsteps caused your head to throb more and the nausea to overtake you.

               “I’m going to throw you,” you say as you quickly get out of his grasp. He lets you go, and you almost fall on the dark floor, but he catches you at the last second. Your back hunches as your double over, spilling what little bit was left in your stomach. Your vision blurred as the pounding in your head increased.

               You took a deep breath and hunched over again, this time nothing coming up – just hopeless dry heaving. “Don’t touch me,” you snarl when you feel his massive hand on your back. “Because of you, I have this pounding headache causing me to throw up.” You could barely see him, but feeling the ground shake from his stabbing his giant knife in the ground caused you to jump back and reconsider your tone.

               A large hand gripped your arm firmly as many thoughts went through your mind about how you could have handled this situation and your tone a little better. With your arm still in his grasp, he starting walking further into the surrounding darkness – pulling you with him. You didn’t like it. You didn’t like the feeling you were getting, and this feeling had nothing to do with the nausea in your body. No, this was a gut feeling that was saying ‘Danger. Get out’.

               You plant your feet on the floor as your heels dig into the hard surface as you try to pull yourself from his grasp. Your body jolted forward here and there at your pitiful attempts. “Let me go,” you say lowly through gritted teeth. Knowing Pyramid Head isn’t going to respond but hearing that low growl coming from under his helm made your heartbeat in your chest move between your thighs.

               You jerk your arm back again – still failing to get out of his grasp. “I said,” you raise your voice this time. “Let me the fuck GO!” You end the last word in a scream. Pyramid Head stops, turning towards you and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up as your voice vibrated off the walls around you. You swallow hard as you hear his breathing becoming heavier, knowing you were testing your limits with him. He had a soft spot for you, obviously, but it often crossed your mind what would be your last straw to him.

               His grip on your arm remains the same, but you decided to test the waters again by jerking your arm back. This time, you were successful. You take a step back and the ground shakes from him stomping a step forward. You scanned the area around you the best you could now that your eyes were adjusted to the darkness with the faintest light you probably ever seen. Literally like 1% light and the rest was total darkness.

               Your eyes scanned the area ahead of him and you could make out two doors on the right and two doors on the left. Problem was, you had to get past him and last time you tried, it got you knocked out and carried to this dark shithole. “Look, I need a break to take all of this in,” you start off softly - hoping this would ease him. Deep down, you were trying to get his guard down. “I don’t know where we are. Why I’m here and where you’re taking me.”

               Pyramid Head’s breathing started to die down as he listened to the calmness in your voice. “I just,” you pause, “I just want to go back and get in be-“you stop as you look past him on his left. You widen your eyes and point your finger. “W-what is that?” you say with terror in your voice. Pyramid Head quickly jerks around to see what you’re talking about and you take the opportunity to run past his right side.

               That deep low growl radiated out of him whenever you past him, vibrating your organs. Sweat glistened at your hair line as you felt cool air hit you from his attempt of grabbing you. You ran as fast as you could to the first door on the right, slamming the door shut as soon as you entered. Pyramid Head was right on your heels and trying to come through the door right after you shut it.

               “Fuck,” you breathe out as the door your back is pressed against vibrates from him trying to come through. Inside the room is another door to the wall on your right and lockers parallel to the wall, the door with your back against. Quickly, you run to the other door and open it as his roars make you rethink this decision. You make your way to the lockers and find one that’s open and get in. Hopefully this plan will work.

               Pyramid Head busts through the door and you cover your mouth with your hand to silence your heavy breathing. He steps into the room and freezes, trying to listen and figure out where you’re at. With three large strides, he’s at the door you opened to throw him off. You close your eyes and let out a silent deep breath. He enters into the room, and you open the locker door getting out quickly and as quietly as possible.

               You walk backwards keeping an eye on him – seeing his large muscular back standing in the doorway scanning the new room he went into. Your hip collides with a metal table, causing a loud screech to fill the room and Pyramid Head to turn on a dime with no hesitation. His helm locked onto you. Your chest heaved up and down as you quickly turned around and went out the door you first went through. Pyramid Head on your heels.

               You turn right, grabbing onto the door frame to help swing you and keep your balance. You run down the long hallway, passing doors on your left and right. He was gaining on you and hearing his heavy breathing getting louder caused the panic in your chest to build even more to the point where you could barely breathe.

               The last door you could make out on your left was your last option. After that, it was a dead end. You run as fast as you can making it seem like you’re just going to keep straight – then at the last second, you turn left and head through the door. You heard him run past you, roaring as he comes to a stop. Dust fell from the ceiling as the building shook. He was pissed and now you were committed. There was no saving yourself from this.

               You blink a few times trying to adjust your eyes from the dust that just fell in them. You see four figures in the room that look like humans, but it’s Silent Hill; there aren’t going to be humans out here. You take in a deep breath and hold it, your hand still on the handle of the door. Quietly, you try to push down on the handle to open the door, but it’s locked.

               Your heartbeat filled your ears as the figures in front of you moved in jerky motions from the faint sound of the locked door. You tried the door again thinking it was jammed and to your demise, it remained locked. Another jerked motion from the human like figures as they made their way towards you. They react to sound. Great. You thumb the handle to see if it was a push lock like on traditional doors. Nothing.

               The figures in front of you moved again and you held your breath trying not to make a sound. With each movement, a moan escaped their lips. You could see a faint white color coming from them and the more you stared at them, the clearer they became. Nurses. Well, what used to be nurses. They wore short white dresses with traditional old-style hats and they had bandages over their faces. All of them covered in blood.

               The door hand jiggles from the other side and the nurses quickly jerk their way towards you – moaning with each movement. You look down a little further and see them carrying knives in their hands – slashing with each motion. Pyramid Head jiggles the handle again, and you quietly get away from the door and scale the wall to the right of the door.

               The nurses get to the door, moaning with each stab they penetrate through the wood. You try to get as far away as you can, scaling the wall in the process – not wanting to be a victim to their sexual fantasies. Just as you get to the corner of the room, your arm bumps into something wet and cold. Slowly, you turn your head to the right as terror reaches your face. Another nurse.

               Without hesitation, she raises her knife and cuts you deeply on the arm, moaning as the blade tears through your skin. You let out a scream and instantly regret it. The other four nurses turn rapidly and make their way towards you. The nurse that cut you, sends her knife towards you again, slicing at your ribs. Your cuts burned as you tried to remain quiet.

               The door handle jiggled again and two of the nurses turned back around to head to the door. Tears fell from your face, knowing the cuts were deep and more than likely would get infected. Three nurses were now headed in your direction, moaning with each step they took. Another roar shook the building from the monstrous being on the other side of the door. The nurses stopped in their path and froze. Were they scared of him?

               You take in a deep breath taking a risk, “Pyramid Head!” you shout as all the nurses in the room quickly make their way to you. All five were now in front of you as Pyramid Head banged on the door to bust it down. This time, they didn’t care about the noise coming from the door, but rather the noise they heard in the corner that smelled of fresh iron.

               They each brought their knives down in their own fashion, cutting through your arm as it felt like fire burning your skin. You tried to cover your face, but one managed to cut diagonally across your face. The door to the room busted open as Pyramid Head made his way inside, quickly making his way to you. The nurses froze as he approached. Blood poured down your face and from your arm you used to shield yourself. Your ribs ache from the one slice they gave you.

               The closer Pyramid Head got; the nurses backed away from you. His heavy breathing filled the room and you knew if he wouldn’t kill you, the nurses would have no problem doing so. He reaches out and grabs you by your severely cut arm. You scream as the burning sensation intensifies, but he doesn’t care.

               He drags you out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you both. Without hesitation, he lets go of your arm and slams you against the wall beside the door. The wall cracking around you. Here you were in the same situation you were in several hours ago - still not learning your lesson. Your hands find his to alleviate the pressure he has on your throat. It was the most he had ever put on you and for once, you were scared that he might kill you.

               Blood dripped off your elbow from your cuts as the smell of your blood filled the small area around you both. “I-I’m sorry,” you barely make out. The low growl that came from him told you that he was fed up with your shit. You closed your eyes as the world around you was becoming a blur. Just as darkness was consuming you, he lets you go and you fall to the hard ground, yelling out as your body collides.

               Everything hurt. Your wrist from earlier, your fucked up arm, your face, and your ribs. But the fucked-up thing about it, it was all your fault. If you would have just listened and stayed put, none of this would have happened. Your headache was getting worse, and you got on your hands and knees to hunched your back – dry heaving yet again.

               Your head hung low when nothing came up and tears spilled out your eyes from the pain you were in. Pyramid Head stood there watching you. Watching how broken you had become and your only saving grace in the fucked-up world was pissed off at you.

               “I’m sorry,” you whisper out again as your shoulders shake from crying. You hear him walking away and you pick your head up watching him through blurred vision. He doesn’t help you up. He doesn’t wait on you. He picks his sword up and continues walking – forgetting you’re there. You swallow hard as you get to your feet and follow behind him. You fucked up and you hoped that you didn’t fuck up to the point where you were next on his list and your time here in Silent Hell was over.

[moomoocowmaid]

Do any other couples write self-indulgent fanfiction for each other?