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pellucid-constellations · 1 year

Text

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

“What’s this punks name again?”

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.”

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?”

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.”

“Semantics.”

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one.

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team.

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?”

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.”

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.”

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?”

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow.

“Y/n.”

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.”

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—”

“We’re going home.”

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.”

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.”

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.

This was different.

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“It was a big deal.”

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?”

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.”

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—”

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt.

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.

A good reason.

You didn’t date athletes.

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.

And you didn’t date athletes.

You did not.

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.”

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.

“Tonight,” you answered plainly.

The arms atop your legs tensed.

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.”

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.”

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.

Definitely not.

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you.

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering.

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.”

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.

“What?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.”

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?”

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.”

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.”

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?”

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled.

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.”

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked.

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?”

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?”

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied.

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.”

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.”

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.”

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.”

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?”

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created.

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.

“Yeah, but—”

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.”

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.”

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.”

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.”

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively.

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.”

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow.

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.”

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.”

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.”

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.

And nothing at the same time.

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.”

“You’re being presumptuous.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.”

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.”

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.”

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“You can do it again.”

“Oh, I will, baby.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.”

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?”

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.”

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets.

“And is that true?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #college!bucky

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little-diable · 4 months

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The Chase – Draco Malfoy (smut)

Since y'all seem to enjoy my Draco fics that have some rougher smut in them, I couldn't stop myself from writing this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco has been feeling frustrated for days, something that finally changes as he tells his wife that he's ready to hunt her down and remind her who she belongs to. Basically pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, rough smut, tied wrists, dom!Draco, hide/seek, oral (f), some degrading

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!wife!reader (1.8k words)

Her eyes were focused on her phone, while her heart was racing in her chest, pounding with a strong beat that whispered to her, urging (y/n) on to prepare for what her husband had just texted her. Draco had been in some kind of mood for the past days, a rather snappish mood she hadn’t enjoyed being around, deciding to keep her distance while he worked through whatever he had struggles with at work. But the text she was now rereading for the tenth time told her that all the pent-up frustration would be left in the past after tonight.

“You may run and hide from me, but tonight, I’ll catch you. xxx”

Draco and her had done this a while back for the first time, letting him hunt her down before using her like a vessel for his frustration and anger, littering her body with marks she’d trace in the midnight hour with a proud smirk. She loved the chase, the thrill shooting through her body while her adrenaline spiked.

(Y/n) knew that Draco would find her in no time, very well knowing that neither of them could go long without touching their significant other, especially when both were urged on by their frustration, their need and hunger for one another. She could already feel him buried deep inside of her, letting her walls clench around nothing at the mere thought of being fucked by her husband.

Perhaps he’d use their blindfold, perhaps he’d tie her to the bed, while fucking her from behind, whatever it was he was about to do to her, (y/n) would take it all with a satisfied grin, ready to offer every inch of trembling body to her husband like a sacrifice.

Tonight she’d let him play, tonight she’d let him win their chase – very well knowing that whatever he’d do to her would be her greatest win after all.

……

“Honey, I’m home!” Draco’s voice echoed through their house, ringing in her ears as she hid beneath their bed. It wasn’t a creative hiding spot, and yet it was the perfect place for them, knowing he’d find (y/n) in no time, to fuck her rough like she knew he would.

The sound of his feet meeting the wooden ground made her breath hitch in her chest, while picturing the suit perfectly clinging to his frame, with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and how he was wearing his blonde hair slightly gelled back – a sight that would make her fawn over her handsome husband.

“Where are you hiding, pretty girl?” She heard Draco step into the room next door, opening their dresser, and closing it again after a few more seconds. (Y/n) counted the passing by seconds, letting the numbers echo through her mind while Draco kept taking his time, stepping into their bathroom for a few seconds.

“I can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt, while you scream my name, it’s the only thing I could think of today.” Draco’s voice dripped with something dark, something that drew a soft moan from her while she stayed hidden. His feet came into view as he entered the bedroom and closed the door behind himself, seemingly all too aware that she was hiding close by.

“Fuck, honey, I will make you tremble, make you forget your name while you take my cock like you were made to do.” Without another warning he crouched down to reach for her, pulling (y/n) from her hiding spot with a satisfied grin. She barely got any time to understand what her husband was doing as he picked her up and threw her down on the bed.

(Y/n)’s gasps echoed through the bedroom as she stared up at Draco, focusing on the smirk he wore, paired with that dark gaze that pushed heat straight to her pulsing bundle. Draco settled between her naked legs, only wearing a shirt of his and her already damp panties, to reach down and kiss her breathless.

It had been days since he had touched her, let alone kissed her like this, a teeth clashing kiss that made their hearts race and their limbs tingle. Her fingers found their way to his blonde hair to tug on his roots, trying to pull her husband even closer while he shifted his weight onto his right hand as his other hand reached for their bedside table.

“Give me your hands, pretty girl.” He murmured the words against her already swollen lips. (Y/n) wanted to protest, wanted to beg him not to tie her to her bed, but the warning gaze he shot her left her breathless, unable to speak a single word. Draco gently took her wrists to tie them to the cold metallic frame of their bed with the dark green rope he enjoyed using on her. “Such a pretty sight, but I think we’ll have to get rid of that shirt, I want to see all of you.”

“Draco,” the warning tone dripping from her voice left Draco chuckling as he reached for the small knife they used whenever they were high on the thrill, staring at one another while he’d trace her skin with the knife. All (y/n) could do was tug on the rope as he sliced the fabric of his shirt apart, exposing her naked upper body to his twinkling eyes.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” His head dipped down to press a kiss to the valley between her breasts before his hand dropped the knife to cup her right one. She was a moaning mess, choking on her sounds while he pressed his middle against hers, letting (y/n) feel his hardening cock.

“Fuck me, Draco, please, it’s been so long.” He spared her words no attention while he sucked on her hardening nubs, drawing gritty sounds from (y/n) – sounds that made his cock twitch in his suit trousers. Draco gave himself a few more moments to suck marks into her skin before he finally let his hands find her panties to move them down her legs.

The two held eye contact as he rose to his feet, while staring down at her to slowly undress himself. Draco was teasing her, enjoying the desperation tugging on (y/n)’s features while she watched him, unable to touch her husband. His shirt was dropped to the floor as his hands began to work on his belt and finally on his trousers and underwear to expose his hard cock to her wandering eyes.

Precum was glistening on his tip as Draco slowly stroked himself, giving (y/n) a show as she could only tug on the rope and try to shuffle closer to him. She was impatient, burning from inside out, all because he made her feel this whirlwind of emotions, high on whatever he’d offer his wife.

“Spread your legs for me, baby, show me how much you need me.” Her body blindly followed the command. She spread her legs for his bright eyes, letting him take in the sight of her arousal-covered folds, of her pulsing bundle, and the beautiful skin he’d kiss any moment now. Draco moved slowly, calculated as if he had thought of this strategy for hours on end, trying to figure out the best way to make her tremble in need.

Their eyes kept searching on another, Draco settled back between her legs to let his tongue brush through her slit, moaning at the taste of her arousal. Both knew they wouldn’t be able to drag this out for much longer, needing to feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. His tongue moved fast, brushing over her clit to draw a loud moan from (y/n) while she arched her back off the mattress.

“Oh god, ‘missed you so much.” (Y/n) mumbled her words, confessions that left Draco smiling against her naked cunt. His bright eyes intently studied her, while he pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls to prepare her for his twitching cock. He allowed himself to fuck her for a moment or two before finally pulling away from her, set on pushing her over the edge with his aching cock buried deep inside of her.

“You’ll take my cock like the good girl you are, and then I may allow you to touch me.” His words echoed through her mind, a small distraction for a second or two as Draco aligned himself with her heat, only to push into her as she nodded her head. Both moaned in unison at the familiar sensation, already high on the feeling of her tight walls clenching his cock, begging him to fuck her into oblivion.

The rope burned into (y/n)’s skin as she kept tugging on it, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be able to feel him soon enough. Draco fucked her without holding back, letting his body meet hers with every ferocious thrust that left both moaning, choking on the sweetest sounds clawing through them.

“Fuck, I love you, my perfect girl.” Draco’s words dripped with arousal, with a hunger that made the inferno burning deep inside of her grow, threatening to leave marks with its heat – marks that may never fade again. Her walls fluttered around his cock as his thumb found her clit, offering the extra stimulation she desperately needed.

“Let me touch you, please.” (Y/n) whispered her words with wide eyes and parted lips, hoping that her husband would finally give in. It took Draco a few more thrusts before he followed the call and tugged on the rope, letting it drop to the mattress while her hands instantly found his face, pulling him in for a kiss.

Their tongues fought for victory while Draco fucked her closer to the edge, making her see stars whenever he met her swollen spot. Her hands found their way down his neck to his shoulders, letting her fingernails scratch his skin to draw groans from him, and finally letting them claw into his skin to draw some blood.

“Cum for me, baby, clench my cock while you scream my name.” He marvelled at (y/n) as she came, letting her head roll back to expose her throat to his wandering lips. Draco left his marks on her throat as he fucked her through her high, only following her down the edge as she panted his name again, like a prayer leaving her soft lips.

“Don’t ever go that long without touching me, do you hear me?” (Y/n) whispered her words as he rested on her chest, letting them both of them relax as the sweet sensation clung to them, reminding them of one another’s love.

“I promise, even though this was fucking worth it.”

#Draco Malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy imagine #harry potter smut

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uzurakis · 4 months

Note

HERE TO SEND YOU BLUELOCK HEAD CANNONS! >:D

Can you do headcannons of the guys and how they would be like if they were teaching us how to play soccer? Hope this is interesting for you ^^, if you're interested to make them thanks in advance!

TEACHING YOU SOCCER?!

featuring: michael kaiser. itoshi rin. oliver aiku. isagi yoichi. bachira meguru.

n. yees darling, i was invested to write this (it's a challenging one because i don't really play soccer myself). hope i nailed it though, thank you to u too <3

MICHAEL KAISER. "nice shot!" kaiser exclaimed, clapping you on the back. "but don't get too cocky, mein liebling."

"learned from the best, i guess," you teased, nodding toward kaiser. "after all, my boyfriend's the world's number one striker, hmm?"

kaiser's eyes widened in mock surprise, a beam spreading across his face. "well, when you put it that way," he said, puffing out his chest with pride and sliding back his golden locks. "i suppose i am pretty amazing."

"ah, but if i'm the world's number one striker," he continued, trying to tease you with words, "then that must mean you have to kneel before me, right?"

you lifted an eyebrow, unable to stop snickering at his exaggerated claim. "huh, is that so?" playing along with his joke. "i guess i'll have to remember to bow down to the soccer king himself."

the guy grinned, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "that's more like it," now his voice filled with mock superiority, typical kaiser. "but don't worry, i'll be a generous king."

ITOSHI RIN. "fine, i'll try my best, but just so you know, i'm not really good at teaching," rin confessed, feeling apologetic because he’s not used to teaching others. and now, his girlfriend wants to learn how to play soccer.

rin took a deep breath, trying to muster up some confidence as he began to explain the basics of dribbling. "uh, alright, first, dribbling. just try to keep the ball close to your feet for now," he instructed, a bit hesitant.

"oi, dont look at me, look at the ball," he reminded you. "sorry," you chuckled, truly didn't realize you weren't paying attention. come on, just look at him. "if i’m being honest, you look really hot like this," you teased, but, it’s true though!

rin's cheeks flushed slightly at your comment, but he quickly regained his composure. "focus," he replied. though there was a hint of annoyance, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at rin's face as he continued to give you instructions, his cheeks flushed slightly from your earlier comment.

suddenly, rin's voice broke through your reverie, snapping you back to reality. "i said focus!"

OLIVER AIKU. "keep your eye on the ball and follow through with your kick," aiku instructed while you attempted to pass the ball to him.

even when you struggled or made mistakes, aiku remained patient and supportive, offering gentle guidance to help you improve. "try to angle your foot a bit more next time," he suggested, as you missed the mark with your pass. "you're doing great, sweetie. just keep practicing."

by the end of the session, you were exhausted but thankful for aiku's patience and support. he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a proud smile on his lips.

"you're making progress, sweetie," he soothed, genuine and affectionate. "with a little more practice, you'll beat me out here."

BACHIRA MEGURU. "okaaay, let's start with some dribbling drills," he said, bachira was overjoyed since this meant he had another friend to play soccer with. "try to keep the ball under control as you move around me, kaay?"

you nodded, determined to give it your best shot. as you began to dribble the ball, you stumbled a bit, but bachira was quick to offer a push. "nice job, baby! you're getting the hang of it," he cheered, clapping his hands in support.

with each effort, you gained confidence and dribbled past bachira with greater ease. bachira congratulated you on your small wins every time you successfully escaped him. "woah, that was awesome! baby, i’m so happy!" he exclaimed, giving you a high-five.

"great effort, babes! keep it up, and you'll get it," he encouraged, his words filling you with determination. “lets keep playing together!”

ISAGI YOICHI. "hey, it's okay," isagi said gently, stepping closer to you. "here, let me show you."

he moved behind you and gently guided your legs into the correct position, his touch firm yet gentle. "see? keep your body low and your touches light," he explained, moving your legs in rhythm with the ball. "you've got this, angel.”

with isagi's guidance, you began to feel more confident, dribbling the ball with increasing control. whenever you made a mistake, your boyfriend always offered gentle correction and encouragement.

"nice try, but try to keep the ball closer to your feet," he would say, his tone encouraging. "like this," demonstrating the correct form before guiding your legs to mimic his movements.

@uzurakis

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starry-eyes-love · 15 days

Text

Let's Make a Memory

Main Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader, AU, One Shot

Summary | Joel takes you out to dinner for the first time and you wind up having sex in their bathroom.

18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, vibrator use, sex in a public bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), language, cute and fluffy moments, a touch of d/s lifestyle.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: I don't know where the heck this one came from, but I’m back out of my fanfic writing funk of no inspiration. Sorry guys, I got so burnt out with writing that I needed to take a huge break and was doing some other things for a while. This story is a little different from my other stories that I’ve written, but let’s just say I (being the writer/artist) had a muse that inspired me so we ran with it. I will slowly release other fanfic writings over time. I have no timetable for when fanfic stuff will be out. I just want to enjoy writing again and not feel pressured. As always…enjoy :)

His hand immediately went around her neck as he pulled her back into him. His other hand went under her dress and touched her where she needed him the most. He growled in her ear, "You're mine; now come for me." She exploded for him when he said those words, which she always craved to hear.

Joel sat and ate slowly at dinner, laughing and discussing life with the beautiful woman before him. She was divine, a gorgeous woman, not just on the outside but what was found on the inside. In the middle of all their laughter, she felt the buzz and the vibration's hum deep inside her. He never once flinched or gave anything away. He controlled the remote, the ability to start it and stop it, her pleasure he owned.

"You were saying?" He said, looking at her straight in her eyes. The challenge for her was to keep talking like nothing was happening. A test of strength, at the ability to follow the command he gave her. "Control your mind, and you'll receive my pleasure."

So she calmed her mind as she squeezed her thighs together, fighting the orgasm that she knew was coming. And as she fought it back, she burned with a fire deeper than anything, trying to remain composed through it all. She wanted him to stop this torture and to give her what she wanted: him.

For 45 minutes, this continued, and she didn't remember anything he had said. "Please," she whispered, almost begging him. To continue, to stop, to let her come, to fuck her hard. She wanted all of it and none of it at the same time. The sweet torture of the tease and the hold off of the release. A game she came to love and hate all together with him.

"Please, what?" He whispered, turning up the intensity again, knowing she was seconds away from release.

"Please, I, I—" she begged, and the vibration stopped before she tipped over.

"Shit," she growled, low and only for her ears. But he heard, and now the wolf was smiling, knowing he would soon devour his prey.

"What was that?" He asked, "Do you have something you wish to say? Something you wish to ask me?" It was a reminder of who played the game better.

"No, Sir. I- may I please excuse myself to the bathroom for a moment? I have to pee."

As he sat back in his chair, he looked at her intently. He knew it was a lie; he knew she was wet for him and wanted him.

Finally, after a moment, he motioned to the bathrooms, saying low, "You may, but don't you dare touch."

A silent nod she gave and whispered "thank you" as she stood.

She was almost to the bathroom door when she felt the vibration rise. She quickly gripped the door, opened the bathroom, walked in, and put her hands on the side of the counter. She was breathing hard and fighting the orgasm that was coming. She completely forgot to lock the door in her fight for composure; she didn't hear Joel Miller, the man who was giving her this sweet torture, enter.

He quickly turned her around and slammed his lips onto her mouth, drinking up all her cries of pleasure as he lifted her on the counter and shoved himself in.

"Fuck me," she moaned, trying to grind up against him, seeking the friction that she desperately needed.

"Patience, my love," he said, voice low and with his own primal need.

He was struggling to keep his head about him, not wanting to give over to the pleasure he was feeling. After all, he was still a man, and the harder she clenched down around his cock, the harder it was not to give in to his sexual urges and empty himself into her right then and there. But Joel prided himself of being a man that never lost his control.

“Fuck me,” he commanded, urging her forward with his words. When she didn’t respond, he got right in her face and whispered in a commanding voice, “I said, fuck me.”

And she did; she found herself giving herself over to him completely. Meeting him thrust for thrust while sitting on the bathroom countertop, one leg pinned up and away from her body by him and the other around his waist. They were like two dogs in heat, rutting hard into each other and trying to sate the urge of being separated for as long as they have been: a lifetime, her lifetime.

“Baby, harder, please,” she begged. Those statements were like the liquid gasoline to their already raging inferno. Every moment from the time she first talked with him, she had envisioned their first moment together. She never imagined it to be here, in a restaurant full of people, but she didn’t care. She was finally answering the hunger deep inside her, which had driven her mad for a long time, and he knew it. That was the problem in their relationship; he knew every hidden desire she had without her ever opening her mouth. Some say it is pure luck; others find it a curse. But to her, it was like the most beautiful symphony ever played; he was her muse for once.

In the creative artist’s world, a muse is a source that inspires an artist. Though he never showed it, except for glimpses of it occasionally. She thought he stopped seeing and loving her at one point, but that was just the mask. The mask so she couldn’t see what she was doing to him inside, how much she was changing his soul as he changed her for the better. Artist and muse. It happens only once in a blue moon, something as fierce as this. For an older man named Joel Miller, this was the perfect recipe he needed—someone younger than him yet could still breathe life back into his soul.

A long time ago, Joel thought the world had turned its back on him. Tommy had found happiness, his brother, after Joel had lost his child and wife, two people he had forever cherished. Sarah, his daughter, died far too soon in life, and his wife left him because of many reasons. She never said, but he knew. Joel’s most significant problem in life was communication sometimes. He struggled to tell the person he was with how much he appreciated them and how much they mattered. He said it through other means, telling them to drive safely, eat, and be careful. Those phrases mean nothing to most people, but to Joel, they meant “I love you.” You see, sometimes Life happens, and people struggle to express how much they care about someone. How deeply they do. And that was Joel’s problem before he met her. Even now, as he takes what is his, what she has given up to him, he still struggles to communicate how much he cares and wants her forever in his life. But she knows.

You see, this woman he has pinned to the countertop and is thrusting hard inside of sees his soul for what it is. Someone who felt like most of his life he didn’t deserve love, so she decided to give him the one thing that she knew he’d never ask for: love. Yes, they sometimes disagree and have had moments where she hurt him with words. But he meant more to her than what she’d ever say. So maybe they both had a problem communicating that to the other. Or maybe right here in this moment of Joel pining her up against the counter, she could show him, just like she did every second of every day, with comments of “Hello cutie” and “You know you’re cute, just a little bit.” Her favorite was asking him how his day was. All those sayings said the same thing: she cared about him and his happiness. All she ever wanted was for him to find peace and joy in life, no matter what. That’s why this was different; they both felt that way but never said it out loud.

“Joel, shit, I’m gonna-”

“Come for me, baby, show me.”

As she finally tipped over the edge for the first time with him like this, she felt the Earth shift on its axis, and her soul left her body and attached itself to another human in outer space. Joel soon followed behind her. When it was all over, and they were both spent, panting into each other’s ears as he held her, she understood that Joel knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what she would experience. He made her wait to ensure she was ready for this experience. The orgasm comes from the soul, not the body, and that’s what he wanted her to feel, their souls merging as one.

Joel didn’t want meaningless sex; he’d had a lifetime of that when he was married. He wanted a genuine connection, one out of this world, one where two people felt it together. There was no going back from this moment, and Joel knew it. So, with a slight smile, he cleaned her up and helped her down. Standing up on wobbly legs, she said in a sassy tone, “Wipe that smirk off your face, old man; my legs are wobbly because I was sitting on the counter, not because of what you did.”

With a deep laugh, Joel shook his head and said, “Okay, whatever ya gotta tell yourself, sweetheart.” But he knew, just like she did too.

With a tender kiss to her lips, she smiled and said as she opened the door, “I’m still ordering dessert with a ton of sprinkles on it.” Joel gave a huge belly laugh as he exited the bathroom with her and took her hand into his.

Sprinkles—the sweet treat on top of the best dessert—was a private joke they had together. Sex was the sprinkles on top of the dessert, the dessert being Life's journey together. You still had to create the dessert together, which he has always focused on—making the best foundation to enjoy those sprinkles.

As they sat back down and ordered dessert, both had something with sprinkles on it. As they ate, they silently chuckled and smiled at each other, at the memory they just created together. Getting to this moment felt like a lifetime, but it was the best wait possible, and they both wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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jamdoughnutmagician · 2 years

Text

All The Way Down.

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Female Reader

Summary:Bucky reminds you just how much of a super-soldier he really is.

Warnings:Smut, 18+, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Face-Sitting, Mentions of shitty past ex-boyfriends, Dirty Talk, Bucky eats pussy for his own pleasure

Word Count:1,232

Authour’s Note: I kinda wanted to try to get back into writing for Bucky since I hadn’t done so for a while so it might not be the best writing but it’s here and it’s filthy, so there’s that

also this is for all my fellow thick-gals who just want a super-soldier bf to tr-eat them right.

MASTERLIST

When it came to you, Bucky was insatiable. He was perfectly happy to be spread out on the bed on his stomach, with each of your thighs thrown over his shoulders whilst his tongue and fingers worked their magic on your pussy.

When he was in one of those moods, then there was very little that would be able to separate him from you.

And tonight he seemed to be in that particular mood, as he licked his tongue through your folds, gently as he helped to ride out the aftershocks of your second orgasm of the night.

“Doll..Want you to sit on my face…please..” he mumbled as he placed sloppy kisses to the inside of your thigh.

That was something that, until now, you had been avoiding. He’d politely asked you about it before, trying to get from you what he so badly desired. You so far had swatted away his advances with a kind smile and a little white lie that you had been too tired. You’d always assumed that you were too heavy, and past boyfriends and hook-ups had been less than kind to you when it came to how to handle a bigger girl in the bedroom. So from then on, you tried to save yourself the embarrassment and opted rather to either lay back or to be on the giving end of pleasure.

Bucky couldn’t lie, your rejections had hurt his pride, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was a reason why you didn’t want to do this with him, and it wasn’t because you were too tired.

His mind ran through all the times you’d been together in the bedroom (and the few occasions outside of the bedroom too) and all the things that you’d done together, when he suddenly came around to the thought that not only had you never ridden his face, you’d also never been on top of him. That wasn’t right, he thought to himself. That needed to change right away and he was going to get you on top of him one way or another.

“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to do that.” you say sweetly as you run your fingers through his hair from between your thighs.

“No, I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to. Want you to ride my face, Sweets.” he says with such a sweet earnestness that it almost breaks your heart with how much he loves you and wants to please you.

“Buck, please…” you say as you withdraw your legs from over his shoulders and pull them up to your chest, sitting at the head of the bed.

“I’ve never pressed you about this, I’ve never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable, but you’ve never wanted to be on top..like ever…and I just have to ask, why?” his steely grey-blue eyes looking at you in question.

You felt safe with Bucky. Safer than you had ever felt with any of your past boyfriends. He was sweet to you, and he deserved the truth.

Huffing out a breath to steady your nerves you looked at your boyfriend before speaking.

“I know I’m not the daintiest of girls, okay? I’m bigger and heavier than most girls, and I guess past boyfriends always made me feel insecure about being on top.” you explained.

Bucky listened carefully as you talked through your feelings.

“So, just to save myself the embarrassment and stop the insecurities creeping in, I always decline to get on top. I know most guys aren’t going to enjoy being squashed underneath me” you chuckle that last part, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m not most guys, Doll.” He says to you confidently.

You look at him, not totally understanding where he was going with this, so you let him continue.

“It seems as though you’ve forgotten that your boyfriend is a super-soldier, Doll.” he smiles “I promise you I’m strong enough to handle anything you throw my way, and believe me when I tell you that I would be happy man with a pretty thing like you sat on my face. I wanna fuckin’ drown in you, sweets.” he finishes, his voice dropping to a seductive growl and coming over to you to place a hungry kiss on your lips.

Looking deep in your eyes once more, he gives you a cheeky wink before laying on his back stretched out with his head resting on his hands

“C’mon dollface, what are you waiting for? Your throne awaits.” His cheeky charm never fails to make you blush.

You make your way over to him, cautiously swinging your leg over his body until you were straddling his chest, hovering over him.

“My face is up here, Sweets” he says, tapping his fingers to his chin to prove his point.

You shuffled further up his body until you’re hovering over his face, and you could see his lazy smile between your thighs.

You feel both his strong arms wrap themselves around your thighs, the contrast of the warmth of his hand and the metal of his other hand is a strangely grounding feeling that you welcome wholeheartedly.

“I said sit on my face, sweets, none of this hovering, I want you to sit all the way down.” he growls before he locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you close.

His tongue ran the length of your pussy, lapping up the dripping wetness of your arousal. He was tasting you as though he was a man starved, the rumbling vibrations of his moans and groans sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly you found your hips rocking themselves against your boyfriend's face, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit had you letting out shameless moans above him.

You can feel his cheeky smirk underneath you.

“That’s it sweets, ride my fuckin’ face…Taste so fuckin’ sweet…” his words are slurred as his tongue drinks you in.

He flicks his tongue over your clit a few times, before swirling around and then moving to suck it between his plump pink lips. The feeling of his scruffy beard against the soft skin of your thighs is a pleasing burn as your thighs clench themselves around his head.

Your hands have found themselves tangled in his hair, thankful that he had chosen to grow it longer again, needing something to ground yourself as you found your head swimming with pleasure.

He knew you were close, he’d seen you desperate for release many times before, he continued tonguing your clit as you whined above him.

“Fuck…Baby Please..feels so good..”

“That’s it doll, let go for me, sweets..let me taste you..” he slurs continuing to help you roll your hips over his face.

It all felt too good. Too good and too much. The tightening knot in the pit of your stomach snapping, and your orgasm rushing over you as your hips slow to stuttering movements. His tongue laps slow stripes over your wet cunt as you come crashing down from your high.

You swing your body to lie next to him, your chest heaving with breaths you break the silence that had fallen between you both.

“I do believe it’s my turn to return the favour, Sarge” you say sweetly as your lips begin kissing a trail down his toned abs.

“Well…I ain’t ever gonna say no to that, Dollface.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x plus size reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 8 months

Note

Hey I was reading your X-men posts and I just had an idea and if it is possible for you can you write about reader was with Bucky or Steve or both (your choice) but they break her heart and she finds love again with Charles Xavier (James McAvoy) or Eric Lehnsherr (Michael Fassbender) or both (again your choice) and protect her from Steve/Bucky 😅❤️

hi honey! thank you for requesting this, I hope you like what I've written!

summary - love can be deceiving especially with the wrong person, but it's so much more when it's with the right person.

warning - cheating? angst, word whore is used, insecurities, small violence.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Bucky Barnes had been your light since the day The Avengers found you. He had been the one to comfort you when the nightmares would become too much, the one to love you like you’ve never been loved before. So why did it feel like your heart was being ripped out of your chest as you heard him talking to his friends. Why did it feel like the opposite of love?

“I’m so sick of Y/n being attached to me all of the time! And does she really think I love her?! Has she seen herself lately? She’s no Nat or Sharon. She’s just her, plain.” Bucky groans, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer. “Oh, did I tell you that I hooked up with a smoking hot babe last night?” He smirks. “Man could she bend.”

You suck in a breath quietly, not wanting to be heard and also struggling to hold back your pain. You walk back to your room, quickly packing your things and disappearing into the night. You knew it was too good to be true, not once in your life had anything ever turned out good. You always seemed to end up with the short end of the stick. You had nowhere to go, a bag in your hand and the moon shining down on you. You felt stupid, you should’ve stayed, found a place before you left.

You decided to walk a few blocks, taking a random train, wanting to distance yourself. You had turned your phone off and threw it away at the first sight of Bucky calling you. You couldn’t turn back now, too busy with your head down, looking at the ground you manage to bump into someone. Your bag falling from your hands, hitting the floor with a thump. “I–I’m so sorry!” You go to kneel but stop when you notice your bag floating in the air.

“It’s not safe for a pretty girl to be out this late. You don’t know who you might end up bumping into.” You blink, your eyes connecting with blue. The random man hums, “Ah, Y/n L/n. What are you doing so far from home? Don’t you know you have many people looking for you? Some good, some bad.”

You shrug, “I don’t care…” You wipe your cheeks, ensuring there are no tear marks on them. “Who are you?”

The unknown man stares, face like stone. Reminding you so much of the man you just left. “And here I thought I made a reputation for myself.” He studies you, “Erik Lehnsherr, but I also go by Magneto.”

You nod. “It’s nice to meet you. If you excuse me, I have somewhere to be…” You lie, you recognise the name, you knew of the people he used to hang around before he fully embraced his dark side. You couldn’t have him handing you back out of spite, you didn’t want to go back. Not after what you heard.

Erik’s hand flies out, gripping your arm softly. “No, you don’t. But I’m not a total monster, I won’t let a pretty girl like you stay out on the streets all night. God knows what will happen.” He begins to pull you along, ignoring your protests. “Be quiet, don’t make me regret being kind.”

Your mouth falls open as you stand in front of the X-Mansion, beginning to feel uncomfortable as you realise these people may judge you. You weren’t a mutant, you were a freak, an unloved freak. “I–I can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Erik looks down at you, “Oh, are you one of those vampires that need inviting in?”

You look up at him with your head tilted, “Huh? What… No. I just, these people are… and I’m me… Plain…” You begin to play with your fingers.

“Hmm, whoever said that should get their eyes checked. Now come. I’m sure Charles is awaiting our arrival.” Instead of dragging you by the arm, he moves his hand and opens it, waiting for you to slip yours into his.

Months had passed since you had bumped into Erik, Charles had accepted you into their family, proving to you that you were one of them. Erik had come and gone many of times since he had taken you here, and each time you began to dread when he had to leave again. Your relationship with him was okay, it had begun quite stiff and slowly blossomed into a friendship, the only issue is you fell for him. But you knew you weren’t good enough for a man like Erik, Bucky had proved that.

Today you were excited though, Erik was coming back, and you had decided to wear your favourite dress, remembering the first time you had worn it, and he couldn’t stop staring at it. Deep down your insecurities were saying it’s because he hated the dress and was wondering how someone like you could ruin a pretty piece of clothing by wearing it, but another part of you had hoped it was the opposite, that he liked your dress.

You walk out of your room, smoothing out your dress as you begin to head to the door where you hear voices. A smile forms on your face, ready to see Erik again. You enter the room and your smile falls, he had finally found you. You didn’t want to face him, he was the reason you didn’t think you were good enough anymore.

‘Y/n, I don’t want you to think I invited him, I tried to stop him, but I cannot do much unless I control someone’s mind and you understand why I didn’t, right?’ Charles speaks into your mind, your eyes connect with his and you nod.

“This is where you’ve been this whole time?! Do you know how worried we were?! How could you be so stupid!!” Bucky growls, moving closer. It’s as though you up and leaving him had struck a nerve, but you don’t know why, he didn’t love you like you did him.

You hated yourself in this moment, you wanted to stand up for yourself and show him that his words didn’t hurt, but everything was coming back, and you couldn’t move or speak. “I–I…”

“Take one step closer to her and I’ll shove that arm of yours down your throat.” A voice speaks from behind you, Erik steps out from the shadows, moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, calming you down when you didn’t even know you needed to be calm.

Bucky spins his arm, glaring. “Who are you?” His eyes fall to where Erik’s hand rests before he looks at you. “Is this why you ran off? Because you’re a whore?” Bucky steps forward, ignoring Erik’s warning causing Bucky to let out a cry of pain as his arm begins to get crushed.

“I warned you to not step closer to her. Yet you ignored that and insulted her.” He moves in front of you, pulling you to stay behind him. “Charles may have not wanted to control your mind because he’s a good guy, but I’m not.” With a flick of his hand, Bucky rises and gets thrown through the door. Erik stalks forward and glares at him. “If you ever come near Y/n again, I will kill you.” He makes sure to watch Bucky leave before he turns and walks toward you before you can even open your mouth to thank him, he grips the sides of your face and pulls you in, bringing you into a passionate kiss.

Was this what love felt like?

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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empresskylo · 2 years

Text

ghost seemed to despise you, making a mission you have to do together much tenser than it ever had to be...

a/n: i feel like this isn't great but i had fun writing it. idk.

cw: none i guess

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlist

The cold wind blew through your hair making you tighten your coat around your torso. You rolled your eyes as you walked silently beside Ghost. Of course, he wasn’t talking to you. But he was being more quiet than usual.

You were new and had managed to get him to speak to you the first few weeks, basic training, and small banter as you talked to the task force on the comms. You thought he even liked you at that point. The way he would gaze at you gave you goosebumps.

Then suddenly, Ghost began to ignore you. You knew you were not skilled physically. You weren’t really ‘one of the guys’. You were their tech nerd who had been trained to work in intensive situations. You felt like a black sheep among wolves.

Maybe that’s why Ghost didn’t like you very much. You were just extra weight. You couldn’t always protect yourself the way the others could. You often put the men at risk when they would shield you from danger you couldn’t fight off yourself.

Soap had to remind you that you were crucial to the team. You were the only one with engineering abilities—and pretty impressive ones at that. But still, it seemed like Ghost was repulsed by you and your helplessness. He made sure you weren’t on his team during missions. He’d look the other way when you’d catch his eye in the halls. He’d yell at you when you fell behind. He’d glare at you while you trained. He’d contest your appearance on more dangerous missions. It was tiring watching him act normal—whatever that means—around everyone else.

You muttered a few things to Ghost, trying to get him to talk, awkwardly fumbling your words. As usual, he didn’t acknowledge you.

“Well, this is fun. I just love talking to myself,” you groaned as you matched Ghost’s strides. It was just his luck that this mission required Ghost’s stealth and strength, and your tech skills. He would have put up a fight, but he knew you were the only one with the right skills for the job and he wasn’t about to compromise an important mission just to avoid you.

Ghost side-eyed you, huffing in response to your whines. “You always this whiney?”

“Actually, I can get a lot worse.”

“For God’s sake,” he muttered.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “…Sir,” you added in at the end, remembering just who you were grumbling unpleasantries to.

Ghost’s fist clenched, his breath deepening. “Wasn’t my bloody idea to take you on this mission with me. Trust me, I would have much preferred you stayed back.”

You shook your head. You were over it. “I’m not that bad, you know.” You peered up at him. He kept his head forward, scanning his surroundings as he walked. “The other guys like me.” You felt like a child as you kicked the dirt as you walked. You weren’t the type of person who needed everyone to like them, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you to see Ghost joking and being friendly with the others. Why did he hate you so damn much?

You walked the rest of the way in silence.

Night approached and you weren’t even close to where you were supposed to be—likely your fault for slowing Ghost down. “Can’t we just stop and rest a bit?”

“We got to get this mission done already,” he breathed, the way you were dragging him behind was giving him a headache.

“Yes, I know. But it’s not really a time-sensitive mission…” you pleaded annoyingly.

“I want to get back to base,” he said sternly, his head snapping in your direction to solidify his words.

You followed behind him as he weaved through an abandoned building, his gun raised and ready.

“I can’t really be that insufferable, right? I mean you like Soap just fine, and he’s loads more annoying than me,” you mumbled, speaking of Soap affectionately, but wanting to get your point across.

He grunted in response—if you could call that a response.

You took in a sharp breath before speaking, waving your arms as you did even though he couldn’t see you as you stalked in his shadow. “I know you don’t like me. You’ve made that blatantly clear. I just thought this would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I don’t know, maybe not ‘get to know each other’, that sounds lame. I just… I just thought you’d like me if I was able to prove myself—“ You slammed into Ghost as he faced you, gun resting by his side.

“What?! Why did we stop?” You asked in a panic. Your eyes immediately started searching the perimeter, trying to locate a threat.

“I don’t hate you,” Ghost said through gritted teeth, his accent heavy.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. He was actually listening to your rambling.

You suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze, regretting every stupid word you just said. You must have sounded so pathetic, complaining that your superior doesn’t crack jokes or tell you how good you’re doing, like any of that is important. His eyes were burning holes through you. “Oh…” was all you could muster. His eyes shied away from you finally, deciding not to say more than he already did.

He turned and began moving again. You felt your cheeks warm as you tried to shake off what just happened and followed Ghost.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, occasionally blinking for too long, seeing black, and feeling like you were about to nod off before startling yourself back awake with wide eyes.

“God, damn it,” Ghost huffed as he looked at you over his shoulder.

You shook your head trying to wake yourself up. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I’m awake.” You pushed the hair out of your eyes and tried your best to keep them open.

You could see Ghost contemplating something under his mask. He may have had most of his face covered at all times, but his eyes were full of expressions.

“Alright. We’ll rest a bit here. I’ll keep watch.”

You felt a sigh of relief knowing you could finally close your eyes for a minute, not caring enough to question him. You sank against the cool metal wall behind you. “You’re not gonna sleep?”

Ghost adjusted his stance. “Someone’s gotta keep watch. Now hurry up and sleep before I change my fuckin’ mind.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were out as soon as you closed your eyes.

You stirred, your body moved up and down waking you. You slowly pried your eyes open, wondering how long you had been out. That’s when you realized why you were moving. You were curled up against Ghost’s chest, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes widened as you rested against him. His breathing deep.

You tilted your head to look up at him and he was already staring down at you. Before you could speak, Ghost answered your question. “You were shiverin’.” He said matter-of-factly as if that was a perfectly good explanation as to why the Lieutenant had you pressed up against him. Especially knowing how much you seemed to bother him, why would he care if you were a bit cold?

You pushed yourself off of him and sat up in an attempt to be at eye level with him. You were partially straddling his thigh as you stared him down, trying not to succumb to his dominating glare in an attempt to overpower you.

“I was… Shivering?” You raised a brow, clearly not buying Ghost’s explanation. Ghost continued to stare at you. “What? Were you attempting to kill me in my sleep and then I woke up and ruined your plan?”

You pushed up off of him in annoyance and you felt his large hands grip your waist. He yanked you back so you were sitting on his thigh. Your eyes were wide with shock. Shit. Did I just piss off the lieutenant? You thought.

Ghost's voice was husky as he spoke, his throat strained from being awake for 42 hours and not getting much water. “I don’t fuckin’ hate you. And I wouldn’t plot to murder one of my men,” he growled.

You raised your hands in defeat. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” your voice became meek as you remained under Ghost’s grip, his fingers likely leaving bruises. You thought about pointing out the fact that he had said ‘men’ and not women, so technically he wouldn’t be lying if he still plotted to kill you. But you knew he was not in a joking mood—not that he ever was with you. He could see the way you were completely missing what Ghost was trying to say.

“Jesus, you’re as bad as Soap,” he mumbled.

You gave him a questioning glance. “And by that, you mean…”

Ghost glared at you from under his mask. You could feel your ears warm. After what felt like hours, he pushed you away and stood up in a huff. “Let’s go,” he commanded. His voice was stern and you knew if you made a joke or argued, he’d likely knock you on your ass. He was grumpier than usual.

You followed behind him solemnly, kicking at the ground as you walked like a bratty child.

You still were exhausted, your eyes red. You had slept maybe 30 minutes before you woke up in Ghost’s arms. The memory made you shiver.

Ghost growled, clearly as annoyed as any one man could be. He squatted in front of you and you looked at him dumbfounded.

“Wha-“

“Get on.”

You laughed, but Ghost stayed squatted. Your face went stoic. “Wait. You can’t be serious.”

“I want nothing more than to go to sleep and forget this whole fuckin’ mission, but you sleepwalking will make it take twice as long for me to get what I want. So get the fuck on.”

You gulped. This was next-level embarrassment. Not only did the men have to protect you, but now your lieutenant had to literally carry you.

Your face was burning hot as you timidly reached out and jumped on Ghost’s back. All his tactical gear made your position against him sort of uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare complain.

Ghost stood, his arms hooking under your thighs and began walking.

You both were silent the whole rest of the way, your arms wrapped around him as he carried you. Every once in a while he had to adjust your position back up and your heart would beat just a bit faster as his fingers slid along your thigh.

It felt like it took forever to make it back to base, you couldn’t imagine how long it would have taken if you both had to walk at your own pace. You were thankful at least that Ghost decided to carry you and not leave you behind to find your own way back.

Ghost had departed from you once you made it inside and you hadn’t seen him since. You stretched, sitting on your bed and staring at the clock. 1:34 am

You grumbled as you stood up and began down the hall in your slippers, not exactly very happy that your sleep schedule was messed up. You had slept for a good 17 hours once you crashed, but that meant you were now wide awake at 1 in the morning. Ghost was probably fast asleep by now and not rolling around in bed like you were. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Only you’d be able to mess up sleeping, you imagined Ghost mocking in his thick accent. Why did the thought give you butterflies?

You walked past the gym to go outside and get some fresh air when you saw a single light on in the corner of the gym. You rubbed your eyes, stopping and focusing through the window. It was Ghost.

You pushed open the door and spoke softly. “Lt.?”

Ghost grunted as he set the weights he was lifting down and turned to face you. It was dark but you could see that his mask was pushed up so he could down his water bottle and you felt your ears warm.

“What?” He asked exasperated.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You asked quietly as if people were sleeping in the gym. But your voice was likely so low because you knew you were just going to irritate him by asking. Maybe if you spoke softly, it wouldn’t sound as jarring to him.

He walked closer to you, grabbing a towel to your left to wipe his sweat away. You could make out the stubble that painted his jaw now that he was only two feet away. “I’m fine,” he grunted.

Most of Ghost’s eye paint had washed away from sweat and you could see the dark circles. “When was the last time you slept?”

Ghost groaned and it made you take a step back from him. His hand pulled his mask back down and he walked back to his weights, ready to start lifting again. The man was going to work himself to death.

You walked over to him with a bit more confidence. “Lt., you really need to rest. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep—“

He spun around, glaring at you. “You know why I can’t fuckin’ sleep?”

You felt small under his intense stare. You shook your head.

“Oblivious, you are,” he grumbled, putting his weights away.

“You want to talk about it?” You finally asked, unsure of what else to say. Maybe this would be a good time for him to confide in you?

Before you knew what was happening, Ghost had you pinned against the wall, his breathing deep, your own heart racing in your chest. This isn’t what you expected.

“It’s because of you,” he growled.

“Me?” You said in a soft whimper. Was he truly this upset because you weren’t like the others? You got flustered and fumbled with a gun in your hands. You weren’t as skilled in battle as they were. You were just the tech guru.

“You,” he grunted. “You’ve fuckin’ clouded my thoughts. You keep makin’ me distracted.”

Fuck, so your clumsiness was distracting him. “I’m sorry, I—“

“I can’t stop thinkin’ bout your warm body pressed against mine.” His voice was darker than earlier, but much quieter now. His strong arms straddled each side of your head, his eyes piercing you. You mentally jumped at his words.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, always irritated with how clueless you seemed to be. Weren’t you supposed to be insanely smart? Couldn’t you feel his eyes on you wherever you walked in a room? Couldn’t you see the way he purposefully avoided you since you were too much of a distraction to him because of how effortlessly breathtaking you always looked? Or because he was focusing so hard on making sure you were okay that he’d lose track of what he was doing? Couldn’t you see the way his fist tightened when you said you thought he hated you or when your honey-laced voice called him sir?

Ghost pushed his mask back up to his nose and bent into your face, your eyes widening. “You’ve consumed my every goddamn thought,” he mumbled before connecting his lips with yours. You froze at first, completely caught off guard. Ghost… Liked you? Really, liked you?

Ghost was about to pull away but then you started to kiss him back. You couldn’t help yourself.

He pushed himself closer to you, his hands dropping from the wall to rest on your hips. He pulled back and loomed over you, your flustered face making him feel weak again. “Hard to sleep when I can’t stop thinkin’ bout how your warm body felt so nice against me. Knowin’ I shouldn’t be thinkin’ bout you like that.”

It all made sense now. You finally understood why he seemed to hate you. You began laughing. Of course, someone like Ghost would act like that when he had a little crush. This whole time you were so worried he would always despise you when that was never even the case to begin with.

Ghost watched you until you stopped giggling, your face going serious in return. “Even though I’m awful at everything I do?”

Ghost’s arms were back next to your head making you jump. “You’re not. You’re great at exactly what we need you to be great at. It’s the reason you’re part of the task force.” You looked unconvinced and Ghost dragged a hand over his mask in annoyance. “Yeah, so you’re terrible with a fuckin’ gun. Why would I care about that?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I figured the lieutenant would hate anyone who wasn’t useful in the way he was…”

“You think so lowly of me?”

“No! I only meant… I mean, I figured you admired strength and deadly skills more than…”

He mumbled your name heavily and you got chills. “I don’t fuckin’ care about any of that. You can do shit that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If anything, it drives me crazy knowing you always need protection.” You took in a sharp breath, your palms flat against the wall behind you, worried he was about to explain why having to protect you all time drove him mad with rage, but what he said instead made you blush. “Makin’ me act… Possessive.” He sighed like he was talking to himself, explaining exactly why he couldn’t be attracted to you. “I can’t be actin’ like that.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you almost couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. “Why?” You whispered. You could see Ghost’s jaw tighten under his mask. He stayed silent, not answering your question.

Ghost’s eyes followed your hand as you reached up to his chin making him flinch. In embarrassment, you began to pull your hand away, but Ghost caught your wrist in his and moved your hand to lay against the side of his jaw. “Jus’ not used to touch, s’all.”

“But you like it? Touch, I mean.” You asked softly, your fingers caressing the cheek of the scariest man you knew. If anything, the way he was towering over you, trapping you between his arms, made him scarier. And yet…

“Mhm,” he hummed almost inaudibly as if he wasn’t used to being vulnerable and was struggling to admit it.

Ghost wasn’t sure what to do next. Your voice surprised him when you asked him a question he didn’t think you’d ask. “Will you kiss me again?” Your eyes fluttered up at him.

His eyes danced between yours. “Want me to?” A brow raised beneath his mask, his pupils blown.

You nodded. Ghost’s hand was on yours again, pulling it away from his face and pushing it against the wall behind you. His palm engulfed your hand entirely. He leaned down, hovering over your lips, brushing them slowly against yours. You whined before he finally kissed you again, this time rougher than before.

When was the last time Ghost kissed someone else? He couldn’t remember. So then why was he acting so bold? Like this was a normal thing for him to do? It was likely the intense lack of sleep that was making him act drunk.

Ghost moved and cupped your face as he kissed you. Your small hands gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to you, making Ghost chuckle against your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, love?”

You were falling in love with the way he spoke to you. So much gentler than earlier. In a voice you never heard him speak before.

He pulled away, his lips hovering over yours, his eyes flickering across your face. “You really should sleep,” you whispered, the dark circles under his eyes perfectly visible to you now.

“Yeah? It’s rather cold in my room,” he muttered, his eyes studying your own. Your hands stayed twisted in his shirt, “Need me to keep you warm, Lt.?” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. Granted, they were barely over a whisper. Normally Ghost could think properly, it was one of the many things he was known for, and he knew that this was a bad idea, but coming up on 50 hours without sleep was making him loopy.

He grinned and grabbed you, pulling you up and over his shoulder.

You yelped, “Ghost!” He smirked as he walked back to his room, tossing you on his bed. It was the same size as your bed: a twin. How on earth did this man fit in such a tiny bed? It was cruel. And how were the two of you going to fit?

“I don’t think we both can—“

“Would you stop whining for once and just lay beside me?” His voice was groggy and stern. You blushed in the dark, almost entranced by the way you irritated him. Except now you knew he liked it.

Ghost climbed into the bed beside you, his room pitch black. He grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, startling you at his boldness. He had to hold you basically on top of him so you could both fit, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Within minutes he was asleep, his soft snoring rumbling through his chest. You smiled, resting against him. His arms tightened around you. You knew this was going to be a… situation in the morning. This was going to be awkward and would fill Ghost with regret and embarrassment, but right now, your eyes felt so heavy. And even if you wanted to leave, you weren’t sure you could escape Ghost’s grip.

#ghost #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2

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1800-fight-me · 22 days

Text

The Wrong Guy

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Rating: M (As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, non explicit sex

Word count: A little over 1k

Synopsis: Both you and Logan fight against the growing feelings for one another as your relationship deepens.

Author’s note: I am so in love with Wolverine my brain stopped working, please accept this humble offering! I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, the words rough and choked out as if he had to force himself to push the vile words past his teeth.

“Like what?” you breathed out.

“Like you see your future in my eyes,” he said.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes began to water.

“Because all I see when I look in yours is a past that broke me completely.”

You reached your hand across the table and gently laid it atop his own.

“Logan,” you whispered.

He shook his head and pulled his hand away. You swore you could hear the sound of your heart cracking.

“You don’t want this, sweetheart,” he practically growled as he gestured to himself and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“I can decide for myself,” you protested.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You deserve better than to be shackled to someone like me,” he said, and now his hazel eyes shone with unshed tears- the same as yours.

You glared at him, suddenly sick of all his self hatred bullshit.

“Then why haven’t you told me to fuck off? You certainly have no problem pushing people away.” you snapped.

“Because I can’t!” he said, voice raised.

His breaths came hard and heavy and a part of you wanted to only offer him comfort, but your defenses were up from his harsh words.

“Why?” you asked, voice flat.

“It hurts to be near you, a constant reminder of my biggest failure, of everything I lost,” he said as he hung his head.

This time the tears did begin to fall.

You opened your mouth to speak but he continued. In a broken voice so unlike the powerful wolverine the world knew, he said, “And it hurts worse to be away from you.”

If honesty was finally on the menu, you decided to say what had been on your mind as well.

“When I look at you, I see the future I should have had. I see the life that should have been filled with love and the feeling of home rather than constant wandering and heartbreak.”

He looked up at you and you ignored the impulse to smooth out the worried wrinkle between his brows with your thumb.

“And that hurts too,” you said.

He shook his head. “I’m not him, darlin’. I’m sorry you never met the Logan from your world, but I can’t be what you need from me.”

“And I can’t be her,” you said, referring to the version of you that was once his wife.

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with pain and regret.

He was your soulmate, but he wasn’t. A different version of the soulmate you were supposed to meet but never did.

You were his soulmate, but you weren’t. A different version of the love of his life, his wife, the mother of his child, that was ripped from him violently and mercilessly.

You were bound but doomed from the start. Both unable to walk away but also unable to stay.

“Where does that leave us?” you asked in a voice so soft and tentative you didn’t even recognize it as your own.

He sighed heavily, downed the rest of his whiskey, before he said, “I don’t fuckin’ know.”

You sighed and stood up, ready to storm out of his apartment.

“Wait,” he murmured, his large hand catching yours.

You met his gaze and melted at the affection you saw there.

You let him tug you back down to the couch, this time your body closer to his, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that the presence and scent of him was intoxicating.

“Let me kiss you,” he said, voice low in a way that made your toes curl.

You worried there were unspoken words he wasn’t willing to say, that he was really asking to kiss you one last time.

This man had just ripped your heart out, but you could never say no to him. You could never deny him anything.

“Logan,” you whimpered and he reached for your face, wiping your tears away before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so tender you wondered if he was being honest before. You wondered if underneath the hurt that maybe he loved you.

Your soul belonged to him.

So you moved your lips in time with him, opening up at his prompting, and a soft whine came from the back of your throat as you tasted him, as your tongue slipped against his.

A sound- something akin to a growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer, kissed you harder, desperation evident in the way he consumed you.

“Don’t wanna make you cry, baby,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed his lips across your jaw and throat.

You whimpered as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Let me make you feel good,” he said, and it was less of an order and more of a plea.

You let him pull you onto his lap and make good on his promise to give you pleasure, the kind only he could provide.

But the pain still sat heavy in your chest even as he kissed you gently, moved inside you, and helped you reach your peak as he stared into your eyes.

This wasn’t anything like the other lust driven entanglements you had with Logan. No, this was him making love to you and baring his soul within the process.

There were tears once again in both your eyes as he brought you over the edge with him. He held you against his sweat glistened chest and you listened to his slowing heartbeat as you traced patterns on his muscled torso.

“What if we tried?” you asked softly.

He hummed as his nose ran across your hair, breathing you in.

“You’re it for me,” he said in agreement.

You burrowed your face deeper into his chest and he held you tight.

And when the morning came, you both tried to put the past and the future aside and just be together, to love each other.

You both tried.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlet smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you

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juletheghoul · 6 months

Text

Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales #triple frontier au #frankie x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #frankie catfish morales

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lainiespicewrites · 5 months

Text

Dreamless sleep

I mentioned in a reblog a few days ago that I sometimes write little oneshots about Henry to comfort myself when shit situations happen. Well I left work today and my car wouldn't start and... I've been struggling with remembering something really difficult that happened to me and I needed a comfort fic. This is that.... I don't normally post them but I wanted to share this one.

Warnings: Mentions of SA possible trigger.

summary: waking up from a nightmare and having a rough day. Henry is always there to help.

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I watched the door shake. The man on the other side determined to break in. If he got through, he was going to hurt me again. Not that he would ever admit it. My attacker had spent just moments before trying to convince me I had asked for it. Like what he did to me was nothing more than him fulfilling my desires. Bile rose in the back of my throat from the thought.

“Go away, Luke! I told you I won’t say anything to anyone! Just leave me alone!” But he didn’t stop. I watched the door knob turn as I looked around my childhood bedroom searching for something to barricade the door. Trying to find anything to keep him out. My strength would not hold much longer. One more shove and he would be inside. I wouldn’t be able to escape him. Just like the last time. As I’m reaching for a chair to press against the door, I stumble. I fall to the floor and the door swings open…

I woke with a start shooting straight up gasping for breath. My heart was racing and I let out a whimper as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I flinched as I felt a gentle hand touch my hip.

“Darling it’s me, it’s okay.” Henry’s soothing voice broke through my panic. It was a dream. Only, a dream. I swallowed hard and looked out the window. It was storming, the sky was still gray, I looked over at the clock 6:25 my alarm was about to go off,

“Sorry, go back to sleep baby, it was just a bad dream. I’m okay.” I assured him. Henry sat up. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and placed a soft kiss on my head.

“You’re sure? He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head. I hadn’t told him about what happened to me. And as far as I was concerned he didn’t need to know. It was in the past. I was fine. It was rare that I had these dreams.

“No bear, It was silly, just go back to sleep, I need to get up and get ready,” I told him. He took in a deep breath. He still held me close for a moment before hesitantly letting go of my waist.

“Alright, love,” When I got out of bed I turned and kissed him softly. He looked so tired. He’d gotten back so late from set. I hate that I’d woken him up.

“I’ll see you later,” I smiled. He sat up giving me another kiss.

“Have a good day baby,” He said. I slipped out of my bedroom and took a quick shower. I quickly got dressed for the office and left. I picked up a coffee on the way to work. I splashed some on my shirt leaving a small stain. It wasn’t completely obvious but I knew it was there. This would happen today I hate Mondays. Things were in full swing, actually, busy. When I got there. I sat down and tried to focus on my work. But I couldn’t get anything done. All I could think about was that dream.

Lunch rolled around and I realized I’d left it at home. I didn’t want to bother Henry. He hadn’t had a day to himself in a while. So I was just going to pick something up. I ran to the little convenience store down the road and got a little snack. It was much but it would hold me over until the end of the day.

The rest of the day was so busy. So many emails and the work just kept piling up. It was non-stop. I was so ready to get back to my place and spend the evening with Henry. I walked out to my car and put the key in the ignition and… it didn’t start. I tried it again… nothing. How could this happen? It ran perfectly fine on lunch. God, I was just tired and hungry and I want to get home! I’ve spent the whole day reminded of this terrible thing I’d gone through, and now this? Today sucked! I sighed and pulled out my phone. I was going to have to call Henry. I tapped his name and the phone rang. After the second ring, he picked up.

“Hey, babe, you on you’re way back?” He asked. I sighed again.

“No,” I said flatly. “My car won’t start I don’t know what’s wrong, the engine won’t even try to turn over.” I rambled. I could hear myself starting to hyperventilate.

“Slow down, breathe. I’ll be right there.” He promised. In 10 minutes he was pulling up next to my car. We tried to jump it but that did nothing. I sighed and slammed the door. “Whoa, hey, it’s gonna be alright we’ll get it fixed, love,” Henry said grabbing my shoulders gently and making me face him. I felt my lip start to wobble. I didn’t want him to see me cry. In all honesty, we hadn’t been together that long. He hadn’t seen me break down and I wasn’t ready for him to. What if I was too much? What if he didn’t want me anymore?

“I-i’m sorry, today has just been… stressful. I was looking forward to getting home and spending time with you.” I said.

“And you’re going to, we’ll leave the car here I’ll have it looked at in the morning. Let's get back and relax my love.” Henry drove us home. I shuffled inside, quickly changing into comfy clothes. After spending a while trying to fix the car it had gotten a bit late so we decided to order in. Henry ordered dinner while I got cozy on the couch. We ate our Chinese takeout and binged a new Netflix series. My mind wandered not fully paying attention. Getting lost in the dream from this morning. I was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, I didn’t hear Henry say my name. He shook my shoulder and I yelped. His brow raised and his eyes filled with concern, and something that almost looked like hurt.

“What’s going on with you today love?” He asked. I snapped.

“What do you mean? Nothings going on everythings fine!” I said. He sat back looking at me from a sideways glance.

“You’ve been on edge all day,” He stated.

“You haven’t even been with me all day,” I rolled my eyes.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked. I groaned.

“Fucking hell, would you just drop it Henry? I told you, I’m fine!” I shouted. Henry ran a hand through his hair and groaned in frustration.

“I’m just trying to help,” He sighed.

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask, I’m not some helpless damsel you need to save!” I argued.

“I never said that!” he groaned. “But you’ve been stressed since you woke up this Morning.” He stated.

“So?” I deflected, clearly agitated.

So… who’s Luke?” He asked his voice calm. My stomach dropped. How did he know that name?

“I don’t know what your talking about…” I said shifting my eyes to the floor.

“Alayna, when you were having your nightmare, you… said his name, asking him to stop. Who is he?” He asked again. I swallowed hard. I kept my eyes on the floor hidingn the tears that had started to well up.

“No one, must’ve just been a name my brain came up with.” I lied.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “I know you don’t think I’m that stupid.” He said. I looked up at him, eyes meeting his. He was hurt. Hurt that I was shutting him out.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, I just… don’t want you to think I … to think less of me.” I sniffled. Henry brushed my hair out of my face and brushed his thumb across my cheek.

“Talk to me, I want to understand.” He said. “Whatever is, I just want to help you,” he stated. I nodded.

“He… is…was a friend of my brothers.” I started. “They were friends since they were kids, I new him since I was a baby.” I explained. Henry nodded. Keeping his hand on my back silently supporting me. I went on. “I thought I could trust him. I was so naive. He always seemed like a good guy. He came to town to celebrate my brothers birthday. And they came back drunk. He woke me up. Because he wanted to say hi. I got up to talk with them and when we went back to bed he… got into my bed. I thought he was joking at first. I thought he was gonna leave.” I looked at Henry. His face was calm, but I knew that he knew what I was going to say. I didn’t miss the anger in his eyes. But he stayed quiet. Letting me get it all out. “He was like a brother to me. I-I don’t know how he could touch me like that. But… I couldn’t do anything. It was wrong, it was so wrong but I was like frozen with fear or shock I don’t know. I know that I told him no. Once. something he wanted to do … I finally was able to find my voice but. It didn’t matter. The next morning he acted like nothing happened. I never said anything. I never pressed charges…nothing. It was years ago. In my dream I confronted him. He told me I couldn’t prove it. He wouldn’t own up to it. I yelled at him. And he tried to convince me I wanted it.. And he…he tried to come after me again.” I cried. Henry quickly wrapped me up in his arms pulling me into him. “That’s when I woke up.” I said. I cried against Henry’s shoulder while he held me. He gently cooed in my ear as if consoling a baby. But it helped. It was the comfort I needed. The shoulder to cry on I never really had. He was quiet for a while. Letting me have this moment and then.

“You know, none of that, is your fault.” He said. His voice soft.

“But I.. let him.” I said. His jaw ticked. Trying to remain calm for me.

“No, he may not have been violent or mean or angry. But he still forced you. He was bigger than you. You had no choice. But to let him do what he wanted. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve felt carrying this for so long. But I won’t let you do it alone anymore.” He said.

“You don’t have to,” I sniffed.

“The bastard is lucky he’s still breathing. He may not live anywhere near you but if he ever comes within a mile of you he’s a dead man.” He growled.

“I’m sorry, about…” I started staring at the ground.

“Look at me,” He cupped my face pulling my eyes back to his. “ I don’t care about some little argument. Or a stressful evening. I care about your wellbeing, your safety, and your peace of mind. There may not be much we can do about what happened. But I can help you feel safer, I can help you feel protected. That’s what matters. Let me care for you. Don’t be too proud to let me help you.” he pleaded. I nodded. I was exhausted. Today had been so hard. I didn’t have the energy to be guarded anymore.

“Okay,” I said.

“You need rest love, you look exhausted.” He said softly. I nodded laying my head against his shoulder. Henry carried me to bed and I immediately curled myself around him. He smiled softly.

“As long as I breathe. He will never, get to you,” He said softly. I nodded my breathing slowly as I listened to his heart beat. Henry softly stroked my hair and I felt my eyes lids get heavy.

“Get some sleep darling, I’ll be right here,” he promised. My eyes closed and everything faded to black. And for the first time in a long time. I had a dreamless sleep. I was safe. Now. Truly safe. I didn’t have to fight this alone.

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I don't feel like this is my best work but it is honest... I'm gonna add my taglist here but you so don't have to read it! if you do thank you! It's just away of me getting all my emotions out. Y'all are like my online emotional support group <3

@foxyjwls007

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@summersong69

@carrie80reads

@identity2212

@caramariehurst

@redheadrouge

@warriormirkwood

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@shellyshellshell

@mary-ann84

@starfirewildheart

@henryownsme

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@wa-ni

@toooldforobsessions

@pono-pura-vida

@Chloeforde

@liecastillo

@mrsevans90

@evie-119

@margauxmargaux07

@thearcana-moonlight

@secretdream2

@wtfdudesblog

@juliaorpll78

@nothingbettertosay81

#henry cavill #fanfic writing #fanfiction #henry cavil x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #sa tw #sa mention #comfort #comfort fic #comfort character #comfort person #august walker

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 6 months

Text

Hangry

Word count: ~2,000

Pairing: Steve x reader and Bucky (platonic), no pronouns used

Warnings: Just a lot of fluff. Mild cursing.

It's been a year and a half since my last posted works! I'm VERY out of practice 😅 I'm trying to work on some smaller prompts on my list while I get myself back into writing and continue working on the Loki blip in the universe prompt. It's not my best, but I hope you enjoy in any case!

This was based on a Prompt for Steve x reader as well as a prompt where reader and Bucky bug Steve while he's making a public appearance.

“Tell us, Captain, sir - how did the Avengers manage to track down the villain’s hideout this time?”

“Well, good sir - we have state-of-the-art technology that allows us to track electronic signals from thousands of miles away…”

“Ugh, he is such a ham!” you muttered to Bucky under your breath as you observed Steve from a distance. “We’re never going to make it to the store if he keeps stopping every time a reporter tries to chat him up!”

“Steve can’t resist bragging about us,” Bucky chided, nudging you with his elbow.

“Yeah, well… some of us are hungry!”

You huffed and folded your arms across your chest in annoyance, trying to catch the reporter’s eye with your scowling face, but she was far too enamored by the star-spangled captain to pay you any mind. How had a simple grocery run for ice cream turned into a twenty-minute interview with the press??

“I swear, I’m gonna go drag him away from that reporter by the ear if he doesn’t stop talking in the next 60 seconds,” you grumbled.

“Why do that when we can mess with him instead?”

You turned to look at Bucky, who had a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Go on…”

He smirked, shooting you a wink. “Watch and learn.”

You watched silently as Bucky meandered casually toward where Steve stood speaking with the reporter and her photographer. Steve was none the wiser to his friend approaching from behind.

“… but the serum isn’t the only thing that makes us heroes. It takes a whole load of grit and determina-HAY-tion-!”

Steve flinched as his best friend subtly reached up and pinched his side mid-sentence, effectively silencing him. The captain recovered quickly, though, chuckling nonchalantly as he flashed Bucky a look. He continued on with his sentence after that, refusing to acknowledge what just happened.

“Wait - Steve is ticklish??” you whispered incredulously as Bucky returned to your side.

“Very. Why does that surprise you?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just assumed the serum eliminated weaknesses like that.”

Bucky chuckled. “Nah - if anything it made it worse.”

“Oh-ho, I’ve got to try this for myself!”

You quietly paced up behind the blabbing soldier, pretending you were casually walking past to avoid drawing attention from passerby. As you stepped by him, you reached out and swiftly dug your fingertips into his ribs for less than a second. Steve choked on his words and whipped his head around instinctively. You ducked out of his field of vision and prodded his other side.

“Excuse me,” Steve requested politely, turning around as nonchalantly as possible to find you standing behind him with a guilty grin on your face. “Can I help you?”

“I just came to remind you that we have somewhere we have to be,” you stated sweetly.

“Yes, but it isn’t urgent,” he muttered.

“Oh, I think you’ll find it to be very urgent, actually,” you whispered, shooting him a cheeky wink. With a long, drawn-out sigh, Steve turned to the reporter.

“My apologies, ma’am. Duty calls.”

You saw Bucky clap a hand over his mouth and nose to cover the snort that burst from his nares. Trying hard not to openly roll your eyes in front of the reporter, you nodded in the direction of the grocery store and began marching purposefully toward your destination, with Steve following in your wake.

“You two are infuriating,” Steve grumbled once you were out of earshot from the reporter.

“Excuse me - I just want to go get my ice cream and head back home to eat it,” you countered. “You’re the one who decided to schmooze with the first person who asked you about your superpowers.”

“I’m just trying to maintain good public relations. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Ugh, no. I hate talking about myself.”

The three of you bickered amicably the entire way to the store. It hadn’t ended by the time you’d made it back to the tower kitchen and dropped your grocery bags on the counter.

“I’m just saying - it wouldn’t kill you to wear a hat or something to hide your face from reporters when we’re just trying to go to the store,” you griped, shrugging your sweatshirt off your shoulders and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen stools.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try to be friendly to strangers every once in a while,” Steve retorted.

“Excuse me - I am a very friendly person! I’m just selective about it.”

“Friendly as an angry porcupine, sure.”

You gasped indignantly. “Are you saying I’m sharp with people??”

“You’re just a little… prickly.”

“Ooh, now that’s an insult,” Bucky hummed sarcastically.

“You’re just as bad, you know. Forget porcupines - you’re like a venomous sea urchin or something,” Steve shot back at his friend. You snorted.

“Steve… you’ve really got to work on your teasing skills,” you chuckled. “A ‘sea urchin?’ Really?”

“I could just take your ice cream”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

Steve held your gaze for a moment, eyes darting briefly to the bag on the counter between you with the ice cream inside. You lunged for the bag handle, but Steve predicted your move, snatching it out of your reach before you could get a hand on it.

“Damnit, Steve!! Give it back!” you whined, rounding the counter to swipe for the grocery bag. He turned his back to you, maintaining a barrier between you and the prize. “Bucky! Help me out here!”

“Nah, this is pretty funny to watch,” Bucky chuckled, snickering as you swatted at Steve’s arm.

“Yeah but your ice cream is in there too!”

Bucky sighed. “You make a fair point. Steve, buddy, give it back.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve been just as much a pain in my rear today! Why would I give it back to you either?”

You gasped dramatically, catching Bucky’s eye. “Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?”

“‘Course not!”

Without warning, Bucky lunged at his super soldier friend, tackling him to the floor. The bag of ice cream slipped from Steve’s grasp in his surprise, which you quickly snatched up before he could regain the wherewithal to take it back. With a triumphant shout, you tore the cover off your pint of ice cream and dug a spoon out of the drawer, swiping a scoop off the top layer and shoving it in your mouth with a contented sigh.

“Mm… finawwy,” you mumbled with your mouth full. Swallowing, you pointed your spoon accusatorially at Steve where he was currently trying to shove Bucky off himself. “You know, you’ve been a pain in my rear all day. You deserved this - it’s nice to see someone teaching you a lesson.”

“You two are pains in my rear every day!” Steve huffed as he grasped at Bucky’s shoulders and pushed.

“You did not just say that!” you gasped dramatically.

“Yeah, how dare you!” Bucky added, pinching at Steve’s side for emphasis.

“Bahah- Bucky, don’t start this,” Steve warned as he grasped his friend’s wrists to still his hands.

“Ooh! Wait!” You set your ice cream and spoon down on the counter beside you. “I want a go! Bucky, hold him there for a minute.”

“Whahat??” Steve laughed in surprise, a nervous edge to his voice.

“Sure!” Bucky offered, ignoring his friend’s protests as he maneuvered his wrists from Steve’s grasp and swiftly pinned his arms to the floor a few inches from his sides. “Quick, before he gets free!”

"On it!" You crouched down beside the super soldiers as Steve tugged against Bucky's grip. Without waiting to listen to Steve's protests any further, you began to scribble your fingertips into his exposed sides and ribs rapidly. You heard a thump behind you as Steve kicked his heel against the floor in protest, now pulling more frantically to escape his best friend's hold.

"HA-HEHEY! Cut it ohout!!"

"Nah. I deserve a little reward for tolerating you all day," you snickered, prodding at his belly. "Hey, Buck - where should I get him next?"

"Ohh, definitely under his arms," he suggested with a smirk. You pinched your way up his ribcage before slotting your hands into the narrow space between his biceps and his upper ribs. Bucky adjusted his grip to pry his friend's arms away from his sides as he attempted to clamp them down to limit the space under his arms.

"BUCKY!! Let me go-HO-HO this I-HI-INSTANT!" Steve demanded.

"No can do, buddy. I'm enjoying watching you get taken down a peg."

"DAHAMNIT BAHARNES!!"

"Oof, language Steve!" you teased, digging your fingers into the soft spot under his arms. "Where else is he ticklish?"

"The spot on his stomach right under his ribs - that'll really get him good." Steve nearly managed to slip his wrist from Bucky's grasp, but he quickly shifted his grip once again. "Better do it quick - I can't hold him much longer."

"Say no more." You pulled your hands free from under Steve's arms and danced your fingertips across the muscle-clad skin of his abdomen just under his ribcage as Bucky suggested. He threw his head back with a heavy stream of laughter at your touch, arching his back against the floor in desperation. It was only another moment before he finally succeeded in escaping Bucky's grasp.

Steve sat up swiftly, a playful but menacing gleam in his eye as his gaze immediately landed on you.

"Oh-ho, shit!" You scrambled to get to your feet to make your escape, groaning defeatedly when you felt a strong set of arms wrap around your waist and yank you backward.

“You really think I’d let you get away with that?” Steve asked rhetorically as he tightened his arms around your midsection to hold you in place.

“W-wait, Steve, we can- ahaha nohoho!” Your protests were cut short as Steve’s fingers kneaded into your sides. “Bucky! Hehehelp!!”

“Nuh-uh. You’re on your own, my friend.” The infuriatingly unhelpful super soldier waltzed over to the counter to retrieve his ice cream, planting himself atop the countertop and digging in while observing the two of you wrestling on the floor below.

“USELEHESS!!” you cried, attempting futilely to pry Steve’s hands off your sides.

“Nice try. You should know better than to mess with me by now,” Steve teased. He loosened his grip slightly to scratch at your belly. A rumbling laugh erupted in his chest when you screeched in protest and doubled over, suddenly much more frantic. “Oh, what’s this?”

“DAHAMNIT STE-HEE-HEVE!” Your grip on his hands was far too weak to even budge them now - not that you’d had any hope of succeeding before your muscles had weakened from his tickling. You leaned more heavily into him as you succumbed to laughter. He responded by lowering you down to lay on the floor beside him, freeing both hands to dart randomly around your sides and stomach. Weakly, you tapped your palm on the floor beside you in surrender. Steve threw in a few more exceedingly ticklish light scratches along your belly before relenting in his revenge.

“That’ll teach you,” he teased with a grin, offering you a hand to help you off the ground. You grasped your abdominal muscles that were now aching from laughter.

“I-hi… I’ll probably still mess with you,” you admitted breathlessly. Steve made a noise of protest in his throat and reached over to pinch your side, but you swatted his hand away. “Noho more! You’ll kill me!”

“So dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “Here - here’s your ice cream. Hope it melted while you were tormenting me.”

“Harsh!” You snatched it from his hand and stuck out your tongue, then turned to look at Bucky. "And you - you were zero help, thank you."

"Hey! I held him down for you! I was very helpful, in my personal opinion."

The three of you went right back to your friendly bickering session, as though nothing had happened. Any outside might wonder how you could all be friends, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

#steve rogers x gn!reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #ticklish!reader #ticklish!steve

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year

Text

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 3rd: School | Bad Reputation - Joan Jett and The Blackhearts | Combative

cw: pre-steddie (vaguely set s2), weed, migraines, un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

It’s 1985 and the boys bathroom smells like weed.

Interestingly, the boys bathroom smells like weed before Eddie ditches his last period to smoke in the little cement block room, window cracked and far less obvious than whoever’s in there ahead of him.

Probably a Freshman who doesn’t know any better, or some first-timer who hasn’t learned the ropes yet, he thinks to himself.

What he doesn’t expect to find when he pushes the heavy wooden door open is recently dethroned King Steve, sitting on the disgusting tile floor smoking a poorly rolled joint in the corner of the bathroom. Wedged between the sink and the wall, he looks… small, sad, lost, even. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d recruit him for Hellfire. He certainly looks the part of lost sheep.

Steve startles when the door opens and, in what may be the only time in Eddie’s many years at Hawkins High, relaxes when he sees Eddie. Steve’s eyes widen and then look away, back down at his hands. His shoulders clench and drop. His entire body seems to move to defend itself before retreating back into whatever stupor he’s smoking himself into.

Eddie has no idea what the fuck is happening that Steve Harrington doesn’t take him as a threat after his years of proving himself to be just that. Nor can he imagine what the fuck Steve’s experienced that’s caused it. Seconds pass and Eddie just stands there, door closed behind him, unsure of what to do. Hotboxing the bathroom with Steve hadn’t been his plan, but he’s been desperate for just a few drags off the joint sitting heavy in his pocket all day.

“You uh, you know that window opens, right?” Eddie asks, gesturing toward the window with his chin.

Steve doesn’t look up. “Sure do.”

“Got it. Cool. Okay, uh—” Eddie sputters. He’s had very few interactions with Steve, each one civil enough to leave no bad blood besides the company Steve keeps. Or, well, kept. But none have been long enough for Eddie to get a handle on Steve, not in the way he usually can.

Steve sighs and begins to stand. “I’ll get outta your way, man.”

Something in the way he moves, the way he grips the sink edge tight and rocks once to gain momentum before Eddie stops him, reminds Eddie of Wayne. Veteran Wayne, who works a harsh manual job and is no less than 25 years their senior. That can’t be normal, he thinks.

“Hey no, I’m uh, actually here for the same reason. Mind if I just,” Eddie trails off as he locks the door and wiggles his joint around, holding it between his pointer and middle finger. “I’ll crack the window so we don’t get busted.”

“Yeah, I don’t care, but leave the window closed. It’s too fucking loud.” Steve shrugs and Eddie stops mid-stride.

Eddie looks back down at the spot Steve has settled back into, his head carefully resting against the painted cinder block wall with closed eyes. It’s easier to watch him like this, long eyelashes spidering across his cheeks and brows furrowing. A tiny line appears between them, vertical, and Eddie holds himself back from smoothing it out.

“Alright, just know we’re probably gonna get caught.” Eddie compromises as he sits on a toilet, the stall door open, and lights up.

The flick of his lighter brings him a moment’s comfort, followed by the familiar warmth curling into his lungs. His throat burns and he coughs once, then twice, before exhaling. Little puffs of smoke leave his lips in one long, continuous breath. Immediately, the frustration of his meeting with the guidance counselor, the anger at his English teacher for failing him when he was fucking trying, the shame and disappointment of having to go home and tell Wayne he’s being left back– again– vanish. He knows it’s temporary, that it’ll all come rushing back to him in an hour or two, but for now, his brain is quiet.

For now, the bathroom is silent. Long moments pass in surprisingly comforting stillness, just Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington in the strangest show of camaraderie imaginable.

Eventually though, Eddie’s lips loosen.

“Why are you in here anyways? Shouldn’t you be like… I don’t know,” Eddie starts, miming the act of dribbling a basketball. “Doing some sport thing?”

“I do more than play sports, Munson.” Steve’s eyes roll and he shakes his head, grimacing at the movement. Eddie can’t quite put it together, what that reaction means.

“Huh. Coulda fooled me. And probably like, the rest of the school’s population. The rest of your Kingdom,” Eddie teases, gesturing widely with both arms.

“There’s no Kingdon, you ass. Much as you pretend to stay outta the gossip, I know you know what happened. And I’m glad it did, so drop it, okay?”

Steve has a bite to him, an attitude that Eddie admires and can’t help push a bit further.

“So you fall from grace and now you sit on grungy bathroom floors to smoke? Alone? That’s sorta my thing, just say–”

Eddie’s words get drowned out when Steve interrupts. “I’m down here smoking, alone, because I have a fucking migraine. If I have to see one more fluorescent light or hear one more high-pitched screech in the hallway, my brain is going to leak out of my goddamn ears.”

Even stoned, Eddie puts it together all at once. The closed window. The cool tiles. The struggle to get up. He doesn’t know the full story, but he remembers Steve walking around with his face beaten in and the rumors that it’d been Billy’s doing during a fight, and the time before that, when Jonathan had gotten a few good shots in. Damn his bleeding heart, but Steve suddenly feels more like a lost sheep than he could’ve imagined.

Someone Eddie feels the urge to protect.

Eddie stands carefully, all too aware of the sound of his own footsteps as he finds the hidden switch to turn the lights off. There’s still a tiny bit of light filtering in from beneath the door and through the window, but it’s darker. Safer.

“I can be quiet.”

Steve looks up at him, brows drawn tight in confusion, and Eddie’s chest aches. How infrequently does someone care for Steve?

“I’ve been in classes with you. I’m not so sure you can,” Steve retorts, a little less sarcastic now. Eddie makes a show of sitting back down on the toilet and mimicking zipping his lips and throwing away a key. It gets an actual laugh from Steve, and goddamn him, Eddie loves the sound of that.

Eddie watches as Steve’s eyes close again, this time with a relaxed forehead, and stares at him while they finish their joints. Alone, together. Maybe they could actually be friends, Eddie and Steve. Steve and Eddie. There’s a ring to it that Eddie hates because of how good it sounds.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by a rattling at the door and subsequent pounding. Steve’s eyes open and dart between Eddie and the door. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Fuck is right, Eddie thinks. If he wasn’t already getting held back again, he would be now for what he’s about to do.

He crouches over next to Steve and takes what’s left of his joint from his fingers. “Do you have anything else on you?”

Steve shakes his head No and opens his mouth, only for Eddie to press a finger against his lips. “Get in the stall and flush the toilet when I open the door.”

“What–”

“Get in the stall,” Eddie whispers harshly, helping Steve to stand and all but shoving him in the stall he’d been in previously.

“Dude, they’re gonna know I’m here, it’s fine,” Steve resigns.

“Not if you have nothing on you, just say you had to take a piss and I was already in here. I’ve got a reputation, you don’t. Who are they gonna believe? Besides, I’m not graduating and you are. Consider it a graduation gift.”

Before he can open the bathroom door, before he takes the fall as planned because of course, the principal believes the story they’d concocted, Eddie feels Steve place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks.“

As he’s dragged to the Principal's office and suspended, an all too familiar setting, he hopes it’s not the last time he gets to smoke with Steve Harrington.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie month #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myfic #eddie month prompts

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the--rebel--fae · 7 months

Note

Was wondering if I could get a little something with Angel? A bit angst -> fluff maybe he comes back after a rough fight with val and just starts throwing himself on reader until they get him to talk about it and comfort him by reassuring him that they don’t want him for his body like others do.

Angel doesn’t get enough love on here and I’m done with it😭

Thanks Pookie! Much love!

A/N: Of course you can my dear! I totally agree Angel needs more love! I did it slightly differently but I still incorporated as much of your request as possible. Writing Angel is apparently a lot harder than I thought, but I still loved doing this. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Angel Dust x Reader

TW: A little bit of swearing, angst but then comfort, slightly suggestive--It's Angel Dust that's a given, and small references to abuse.

Word Count: 902

A Hazbin Love

“You know Husk, I knew you were good at creating alcoholic drinks, but,” You took a sip of your coffee and rested a hand on your cheek, enjoying the taste of the rich caffeine as it started to work its way into your system. “This coffee is probably the best I’ve ever had.”

It was generally pretty quiet in the mornings in the hotel, but you’ve been nursing a rather nasty headache after fighting with your best friend and unfortunately for your heart–crush, Angel Dust

You kept seeing how he was treated by that horrible bastard Valentino day after day; and early this morning after hearing he was going to work, you well… snapped.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you continued your frantic descent down the stairs of the hotel, almost accidentally knocking over Sir Penitous in the process.

“Angel,” you panted, trying to bring breath back into your lungs. “You need to somehow get out of this. I know he owns your soul, but maybe there’s a way–”

Angel Dust whirled on you. A mix of pain and anger on his face. “What? A way out? Hah, Dollface don’t make me laugh. You think if there was a way I wouldn’t have tried?” He ran a hand through his hair, an action you’ve seen him do many times when he was upset and didn’t know how to process his emotions properly.

You tried to put a comforting hand on Angel Dust’s arm only to have him bat it away. “Look. (Y/n) You’re looking out for me, I get it. Charlie tried this before and it only made it worse. So back off.” Angel Dust sighs and turns to leave but then pauses and glances back at your hurt expression. “Why do you even give a damn anyway? You’ve always stuck your nose up at my work every time I tried to talk ‘bout it.”

You clicked your teeth and balled your hands into fists. “Hah. You know why I cringe every time you talk about your work? Because I see how it destroys you. Every. Time. I’m not some prude like you want to believe Angel. But I’m your best friend and I care about you dammit!”

“Then stop caring!”

“I can’t! You’re my best friend and–and I’m in love with you!”

You ran your hands through your hair remembering when you yelled that. The second that was out of your mouth you froze and Angel Dust just walked out the door and didn’t say a word.

“Well, I made it strong just for you kid, after that conversation a few hours ago I can tell you needed it.”

You cringe slightly at the reminder of what happened between you and Angel. “Thanks Husk. I-I just hope he doesn’t hate me. I–” you cringed. “I don’t think I could live with myself if that happened.”

“You really think I’d hate ya toots?” A familiar voice that makes your heart twist sounds out just mere feet from you.

You go and glance at Husk, only to see he already made himself scarce. Sneaky bastard, he probably knew Angel was coming over you think.

Turning in your seat you let out a small gasp seeing the state that Angel Dust is once again in. A light bruise over his left eye, his fur ruffled in various places, but even still, to you, he looks as handsome as ever.

“I-I just thought with the sudden confession,” You trail off, your voice getting caught in your throat.

Angel Dust walks forward and gently wraps you in a hug. “Yea, that surprised the hell outta me but,” Angel Dust chuckled. “To be honest toots, that confession of yours is the only thing that kept me goin’ today.”

Angel Dust picked you up so you had to wrap your legs around his waist. “Now I’m gonna show you how much that actually meant to me.”

You bit your lip, as much as you really wanted to see where that takes the two of you, you knew that it was Angel’s way of evading and avoiding any real feelings. You pushed off of him gently and shook your head.

“Angel, I don’t want you to just throw yourself at me and think that I just want a physical relationship. If we are to be in a relationship, I want all of you, not just the physical aspect. I want dates, inside jokes, nights of just cuddling together.”

Angel Dust gave a confused look but then his eyes started watering and he plunked down into a nearby chair and put his face in his hands and his shoulders started to shake. The tears flowed freely now. “I-I want that, I truly do but I just…I don’t know how. Thanks to Val all I know is the physical part. I’m just…broken that way.”

At his words, you felt tears prick in your eyes. You walked around to the front of the chair and rested your head in his lap. “Angel, I’m so sorry you have to go through that. It’s not right. That’s why I was so upset this morning. But you’re not broken. No matter what you think. And I’m here for you. Forever and always.”

Angel whipped away his tears and put a hand on your cheek making you look up at him. “You sure (Y/n)?”

You found yourself leaning into his touch. “Positive.”

Hope you enjoyed love! I always love getting the chance to write for Angel Dust, the man needs more love. So feel free to request for more of him anytime!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several-page long one-shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

#hazbin hotel x reader #the rebel fae #requests #hazbin hotel season 1 #commissions open #angel dust #angst #angst with a happy ending #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #commission #requests open

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suguru-getos · 1 year

Text

| Brat in her place | Ayato Kamisato x f!reader |

-> Been a while, I miss Waka 🤭 and I had so much fun writing this little prompt! Warnings: ruined orgasm, edging, he eventually decides to let you cum again tho kekeek.

“If the cunning rabbit burrows thrice, what of the cunning human?” You remember Ayato saying this to you once, when you asked if he has other— cards up his sleeve apart from the Shumatsuban. Being the high lady of the Kamisato clan, the wife of the head has it’s own highs and lows. Ayato was always kind to you, except when he’s not. That’s a rare predicament but you don’t mind it, infact— your behavior sometimes encourages it.

“Ah, Thoma! Your cooking is exquisite as always.” You beamed at the lunch table, having luncheon with Ayato and yourself. Ayato didn’t mind it, you were right of course. “I wonder if I could keep you all to myself.” This sentence, caused the housekeeper to flush hard, while irked Ayato’s reaction too. “Why of course, he is— kept by me.” Ayato corrected you, while you clicked your tongue, knowing you managed to get the territorial man exactly where you wanted him to be.

“Yes, of course Waka.” You nodded, sipping another slurp of the radish mixed veg soup and half-moaning at how your tastebuds danced with the aroma & delicacy. Granted you wouldn’t be this bold if it wasn’t only Ayato and Thoma in the room.

Thoma beamed with a cheerful grin, trying hard to ignore the way Ayato’s body language had changed from a welcoming to a commanding one. Oh boy— he felt as if he was in a Retainer meeting. Not good—“I’m glad you liked it, my lady. If you’d excuse me now, I have something to take care of.” Thoma bowed and left, making sure you don’t get a chance to stop him. If anything— both of the men knew you were in a mood today. A fiesty mood.

“Quite bold of you, to be so thorough with the sounds your little mouth makes when you enjoy something.” Ayato remarked, clicking his tongue and glancing towards you. “You jealous?” You bit back, maybe biting off more than you can chew.

“Me? Jealous? Well—” Ayato sounded almost surprised, a grave chuckle escaping his tight knit brows. “No, darling. I’m not jealous over your antics. I know completely these are nothing but parlor tricks to get my attention.” Ayato shrugged, taking a sip of the radish veggie soup. “No one can please you as good as me after all.” There he was— the spoiled, bratty Yashiro Commissoner in the flesh.

“Maybe I could, make it up to you… remind you how good my touch feels in every little crevice of your dainty little body. Or— maybe I could remind you of your manners, hmm?” Ayato’s fingers tilted your chin up, ensuring your eyes met his. Siren, glazed with flames of lust and dominance.

You gulped, evading eye contact at the statement. You could almost feel dizzy at the intensity with which Ayato was handling this. Fuck— you were clamping around nothing.

One thing led to another, Ayato asked if you’d like to be reminded of something— you agreed & now you were sitting pretty on his lap, legs spread and locked with his own in the way, back pressed snugly against his clothed chest and his heavy breaths sending jolts down your spine. Ayato had worn his gloves back, you know he does that when he’s in a mood to punish you, to put you back in your place. To remind you who you belong to.

He’s been at it for hours, lazily rubbing and strumming at your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves while leaning his hand away as soon as he sees you cumming. You know Ayato is determined because he’s not left for his study since the lunch. You’ve been reduced to a babbling mess. “Yato— Please, please— s’ too much.” You wiggled against him, like a tied up bunny.

“Hmm, I know. It is too much for me to see you brat up so bad.” He hummed, sighing at the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning over the earlobe just right, just enough to rise you to the apex of pleasure while he takes it all down. Leaves you tumbling down to nothing; then rakes it all up again.

“Yato— please- Waka Sama! Please!” You whimpered, feeling the pain in your clit getting used to the rigorous edging. It was then, that your body betrayed you, a mind melting orgasm coursing through every nerve ending as you whimpered, leaning your head back against his chest and rutting your hips for more—

Ayato leaned his hand back, again—

Cruel…

“Ah, going to have to ruin this one. Sorry, my love. You must know better than to ask for permission from your husband, who owns you, who takes care of you, who—” you were sobbing now, irritated at the pleasure seeping through your fingers and whimpering for more.

“Who puts you in your place.” Ayato completed his sentence, kissing your cheek and leaving you be. “Please— please I wanna cum. Yato— I’ll be good, so good for you.” Now you were truly begging, truly submitting to him like he wanted.

“Oh I’m not sure about that, you see— my wife is a force to reckon with. Even I know she can’t simply follow orders—”

“Yato— Please.” You quaked, lips quivering as you glanced up at him like a kicked puppy.

“Fine, I’m not that cruel now. At least, not to my one and only.” Ayato took off his gloves, a sign he’s pleased and this is all over. A sign of intimacy as his fingers raked their way through your over-edged cunt. “But remember— good girls.”

“A-ask for permission.” You gasped out, completing his sentence.

“That’s a good girl.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin thirst #ayato kamisato #ayato smut #ayato x reader #ayato thirst

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tkaulitzlvr · 1 year

Note

could u do 2008 tom getting in an argument with the reader and after arguing a lot, the reader just tries to go to bed. after a couple mins, tom realizes he was wrong and tries to climb in bed with the reader and is like super clingy and tries to touch the reader but gets ignored. and he’s all like “yk how i get when i can’t touch you” AUGHH😩😩 and then it’s js smut that ends with fluff/aftercare

btw ur my fav writer ever i absolutely adore ur writing 🖤

LET ME SHOW YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you are tired of arguing, deciding to go to bed before things get too out of hand. tom realises that he has messed up, but you are being stubborn, still not over what he has done. he doesn’t give up so easily, begging to get what he wants.

content: angst to smut, little bit of fluff throughout.

a/n: thank u so much that really means a lot!! love this idea, i hope u enjoy!💞

“you know what? i’m done. i’m tired of explaining this to you when you clearly don’t get it.” i huff, shaking my head and running my hands through my hair.

“you’re right. i don’t get it. you’re mad at me for doing my job!” he shoots back, eyes cold and dark, jaw clenched as he stands across from me on the other side of the kitchen.

“you can’t be fucking serious! don’t paint me as some clingy selfish girlfriend when all i’m asking is that you don’t come home at midnight every night, and go straight to bed! it’s like we aren’t even together anymore. we live in the same house but we never talk, never communicate. you only show me affection if it’s a quick kiss or hug, or you want sex.” i rant, fuming at his lack of mindfulness, failing to believe how he is so oblivious.

“what so we’re just lying now, is that what this is?” he scoffs, taking a breath before continuing. “cause you know that’s not true. i always hug you, kiss you, tell you i love you, don’t i? and you know that i value you way beyond sex, so don’t even go there.”

“you’re completely missing the point!”

“then what is the fucking point?”

his voice raises far higher than mine, louder than it ever has before. he would never raise his voice at me, not like this. my mouth opens, tears clouding my vision as i am taken aback at his sudden outburst, but he doesn’t seem to care, my silence only seen as an invitation to keep going.

“hm, what is the point? you’ve always known that my job demands a lot of me, and i told you that it would be difficult, but i’m trying my best. if i could be with you more, i would. you know that we’re pushing to get this album perfect, so can you give me a fucking break and stop acting like i’m some awful boyfriend?” he shouts, anger laced within every word, each one stabbing me right in the heart, making me feel stupid for even bringing this whole conversation up. i just missed him, but he couldn’t seem to understand why.

i nod my head, pursing my lips together as the tears cascade down my cheeks.

“okay. i’m going to bed.” i whisper, not waiting for him to respond, turning away from him and leaving the kitchen, trudging up the stairs towards our bedroom. he doesn’t follow me, instead i hear a loud bang come from the kitchen, his fist colliding with the counter as he curses in frustration.

the room is strangely cold as i walk into it, completely dark with little natural light coming through the window despite the curtains still being wide open, reminding me of how late it is - and how long i had been waiting for tom to come home. my feet walk along the carpet, the floorboards creaking a little until i arrive at my bed, climbing into it and letting the covers embrace me, instead of tom. i feel numb, not enough energy in me to cry, yet too upset to just sleep it off. instead, i stare out of the window, the cityscape invading my eye line as i try to distract myself from what had just happened, watching the world around me as it moves on and on, wishing that i could do the same.

the door slowly creaks open, my head turning in its direction as tom walks through it, his expression one of pure regret. he is silent, not saying a word as he goes over to the mirror, taking his cap off and placing it gently on the dresser, taking his dreads out of their ponytail, his eyes suddenly meeting mine through the mirror as i stare into them.

“baby can we talk?” he says, still looking at me through the mirror as he removes his shirt, folding it neatly and leaving it on top of the dresser, his bare back facing me from across the room.

“about what?” i scoff, finally breaking the eye contact and laying down, staring motionlessly at the ceiling. “you were pretty sure of what you said, there’s nothing else to speak about.”

my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, i hear him step away from the mirror, walking cautiously towards the bed. i feel it dip beside me, before two arms snake around my waist.

i roughly pull away from his grip, taking his hands and shoving them back in his direction, not falling for his attempts to iron out the tension, especially ones that involve him putting his hands on me.

“baby…you know i didn’t mean any of that.” he calmly speaks, trying again to touch me, this time taking my hand in his. once again, i refuse, shuffling even further away from him.

“can you not touch me? i’m not in the mood for your shitty apologies just- go to sleep.” my voice is harsh, hurt taking over his expression as i speak, but i don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. instead, seeing him experience even a fraction of the sadness that he had just put me through satisfies me.

“leibe…please listen to me. i’m so sorry.” he begins, turning onto his side so that he is now facing me. “i’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, you don’t deserve that. i’ve just been so caught up with the album and it brought me away from you, but i shouldn’t have let it. please baby, please forgive me. i’ll never let this happen again.”

as he comes to the end of his speech, his hand tentatively reaches for my cheek, his thumb trying to stroke the skin, but i move backwards, becoming irritated at his ignorance.

“are you deaf? stop touching me tom!” i ignore his apology, because right now, it means nothing to me, his initial words still a fresh wound. no apology, no matter how sincere, would be enough to make me forget them just yet.

“schatz, please, you know how i get when i can’t touch you. don’t accept my apology, don’t talk to me, i get it, i deserve it. but please my love, just let me hold you, that’s all i want.” he begs, his voice reducing to a whisper as it cracks a little.

his love language had always been physical touch, and, even when we were fighting, he would always hold me whilst we slept, no matter how mad i was. i knew that me refusing his touch was getting to him and, despite me being completely infuriated, it was impossible to ignore the slight pang of guilt that settled in my heart as i listened to his pleas.

i say nothing, moving a little closer to him, leaving enough space so that he would have to reach out to be able to touch me. he takes my silence as a yes, inching his body closer to mine, his arms pulling me tightly into him, his head resting in the crook of my neck. i feel him relax a little, his shoulders dropping as he pulls me further into his embrace, holding me so tightly that i can feel his heartbeat from within his chest. his breathing tickles my neck, his head snuggling into it as he takes in my scent, clearly having missed being this close to me. but still, i say nothing, giving him this small sense of comfort though anger still courses through my veins, in no position to forgive him just yet. however, it is impossible to deny the security i gain from his embrace, the way his hands run comfortingly up and down my back giving me a sense of contentment that only he can bring.

“i love you. i love you so much.” he whispers into my neck, planting a short and soft kiss there. “you’ll never understand how much i love you baby, you’re everything to me, my whole world.”

his hands begin to caress my lower back, travelling downwards and giving my ass a soft squeeze as his lips plant slow kisses on my neck and collarbone, all whilst he continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, pouring his heart out whilst his movements begin to increase - making his intentions crystal clear.

“tom please, not now. i’m still mad at you.” i say, trying to keep my voice stern, but an elongated sigh pours from my parted lips once his find the spot below my ear that makes me go crazy.

“you won’t be once i’m finished, i promise baby. just let me show you what you mean to me, mhm?” he asks, pulling his head from my neck to look into my eyes, a glint of desperation present within them.

i study his features, starting at his brown eyes - warm and enticing, looking into mine with so much admiration, so much love. his skin, smooth and flawless, unable to count how many times i have felt it against mine. his lips, soft and inviting, decorated with a small metal ring, loving how it would always feel against me, the harshness of it always contrasting with the warmth of his lips as they would move against mine.

and it is that small glance that makes me give in, my hands reaching for his head as i pull it downwards, quickly joining his lips with mine. he is taken aback, but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss me back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing me in even closer, our bodies merging as one.

he pulls away, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he begins to gently remove my clothing, starting with my shorts, kissing upwards until he reaches my hoodie, that soon following, leaving me in only my lingerie.

“so perfect.” he mutters, pecking my lips. “you’re so beautiful meine liebe, you know that?”

my cheeks heat up at his words as they spill like liquid gold from his pink lips, our fight feeling further and further away. it becomes harder to imagine that it ever happened, the way he touches me with such care making it seem almost impossible.

his clothes already off as he always sleeps in just his boxers, he reaches to remove his underwear, turning his attention to my own panties, letting them join the existing pile of clothes scattered around the room.

he moves to the top of the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard, gently picking me up and placing me into his lap as i straddle his waist, hands resting his shoulders as i stare into his eyes, a little nervous as i am never usually the one on top.

“tom i-”

“shhh, you’re okay, just ride.” he comforts, moving loose strands of hair from my face, placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.

i nod hesitantly, lifting my hips up and sliding down onto him, moaning as i take him in, my walls stretching as they become accustomed to his size. tom’s head has fallen backwards, fingers digging into my hips a little as his lips are parted, no noise escaping from them.

once i am used to his size, i begin to bounce slowly, picking up a steady rhythm as tom continues to hold on to my hips, helping me move.

“doing so well baby. just like that.” he sighs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.

it doesn’t take long for my legs to ache, no longer able to continue moving up and down, already tired. my movements are slow and lethargic, almost half-hearted as i try my best to keep going, chasing my release as i crave it more than anything, tom clearly feeling the same as his hold on my waist only tightens, his grip strong enough to leave faint marks on the skin.

“i can’t.” i whine, frustrated that i can’t keep going, completely spent. i fall forwards, collapsing onto tom’s chest, still inside him as he slowly thrusts upwards into me, his arms wrapping around my back as he kisses my forehead.

“you did so good baby, don’t worry.”

those are the only words he says before swiftly flipping us over, my back flush against the mattress as he begins to thrust into me at a relentless pace from above, my mouth falling open as loud moans pour from it, his name a mantra as it effortlessly falls from my lips. he hits places within me that have never been touched before, so deep inside me that i can feel him in my stomach, a small bulge visible as he moves in and out of me.

“love you so much, fuck-” tom groans, his hands on my thighs as he kneads the flesh, prying them further apart as the pleasure prompts them to try close around his waist.

“getting close baby, you close?” he mutters, moving his head so that his forehead is against mine, eyes studying my face as he awaits my response.

all i can do is let out an almost inaudible ‘mhm’, so close to my release that i can almost feel it, the knot in my stomach ready to burst any second. the way his dick twitches inside of me tells me that he is there too, his thrusts irregular.

“let go schatz, cum for me.” he says, watching as my face twists in pleasure, my release washing over me, the pressure of his coming at the same time too much as i squeeze my eyes shut, hands clutching onto his upper arms. my entire body shakes, the feeling overwhelming, mouth open in a silent scream as tom moans into my ear, still rocking in and out of me slowly, riding out our highs.

i am completely spent, laying motionless beneath him, my throat raw from the sounds that had emitted from it, breathing heavy and reckless. tom pulls out, wiping a few tears from my eyes that i hadn’t even realised had fallen, kissing the skin afterwards.

“you okay baby? you did so good, did i go too hard?” he says, my mind not fully registering what he is saying as i am completely exhausted, eyes starting to flutter shut. “you can’t sleep yet, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

i manage a weak nod, feeling tom lift me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom and carefully placing me on the counter. he walks over to the bath, turning the taps on and letting the water run, before rushing back over to me, taking a damp cloth and wiping me with it as a jolt when he is a little too rough, the area sensitive.

“sorry baby.” he mutters, kissing my forehead, separating my legs and moving to stand between them, embracing me in a hug and resting his head on top of mine whilst the bath fills up, small ‘i love you’s’ escaping his lips as he rubs my back, trying to soothe me in any way he can.

after a couple of minutes, he picks me up, gently placing me in the bath as the water submerges me, the warmth of it already easing the aching pain that runs through my body. he climbs in behind me as i sit between his legs, my back against his chest.

he washes my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp as my head falls backwards onto his shoulder, the feeling relaxing me even more, completely at peace in his arms. he moves to my body, carefully washing the delicate skin, planting occasional kisses on my shoulders and back as my breathing slows, on the verge of falling asleep.

he sees that i am too tired to stand up myself, picking me up and carrying me out as i wrap my arms and legs around him. he finds a towel, setting me back on the counter and drying my body, leaving the bathroom for a second and returning with some fresh ‘pyjamas’ - which consisted of a random t-shirt of his and some clean panties.

“come on baby, put these on then we can go to bed, mhm?” he says as i lift my arms up, allowing him to place the t-shirt onto my small frame, the material hanging off my figure as it reaches my knees. he takes my panties, moving them up my legs slowly, my hips bucking upwards so he can fully put them on me, finally putting his own underwear on.

he takes me to the bedroom, tucking me into bed and placing the covers over me, climbing in beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as i cuddle into him.

“i’m so sorry for everything. i love you.” he whispers, kissing my hair softly.

i mutter a small ‘love you’ against his chest, falling asleep within minutes, completely exhausted.

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