#rubs his face against stone while holding onto him

[ddejavvu]

the party’s long been over, and hugh is trying his hardest not to give into the not-so-subtle advances coming from his best friend’s drunk daughter. maybe he gets a little protective and even scolds her over how drunk and stupid she is. he doesn’t stop lecturing her even when he fingers her to shut her up.

send me dbf!hugh jackman thoughts!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dbf!hugh jackman, dubcon (reader is tipsy), don't like don't read.

this is a little more soft than it is mean but i couldn't help myself I'm sorry </3

god i nearly came. i'm picturing him all spread out on the couch, he'd been watching whatever was on tv but now that you've cornered him and sat on his lap he's trying his hardest to refocus his attention there. you're draped all over his lap, and he's getting hard from the way you're squirming on his lap but he's trying to will it away because he doesn't wanna be the douchebag who takes advantage of the younger woman.

you're begging for it, kissing relentlessly at his mouth while his hands frame your hips, holding you steady but not pushing you away like he knows he should. He's not kissing you back, or maybe he is, but it's almost imperceptible, nothing more than a soft tilt of his head or a sigh against your mouth as he thinks about giving in and licking against your lips.

"Please. Please, I want you, and I- I don't care about my dad. He- he doesn't have to know." You plead, hands braced on his chest as you peck his lips between every few words, "No one does, I- it can just be us, just one time, just- just for tonight, please?"

"You're drunk. You're drunk, honey, and that's not fair." He murmurs, and you take advantage of the way his lips move to form the words as you kiss him more vigorously, "I can't do that to you. Even if you weren't- I'm older than you, and I couldn't-"

"You can! I want you to," You nearly sob, face screwed up and chin wobbling as you grind desperately onto his chubbed up bulge, "Please, just once! Just once, I need- I need you, I need something so- aagh! so bad!"

"I can't do that to you." He insists, but his cock is steadily betraying him as it stiffens under your ministrations. He wants nothing more than to just give in but he can't, he'd feel dirty, tainted, perverted.

His heart aches, physically aches as you lay flush against him, writhing with need as he watches on.

"I can't fuck you." He repeats, raising a hand to cup your cheek, "Sweetheart, we can't do this. Not- not now, not like this, m'kay? Wait 'til morning." He croons, trying to placate you, but when you take his hand in your own he realizes that his resolve is weakening- maybe he can offer you something.

He's defeatedly still, and he should pull his hand away when you desperately grab onto it, but he doesn't. You bring it between your legs and press it to your cunt- he can feel the warmth even through your panties.

"I shouldn't," He tries again, but his hand seems to move of its own accord, betraying the rest of him as it slowly eases its way beneath your soaked panties and rubs gently, experimentally at the entrance of your cunt. You're wet in a way that suggests you've been needy all day, and he takes that as solace if it means you were stone cold sober when this all began.

"We shouldn't be doing this, sweetheart." He hums, leaning down to press a pointlessly chaste kiss to your head where you've nestled it into his chest. Despite his words he drags a thick finger through your pussy, adding a second when it's clear you don't need to be prepped.

"I love you." You whine pathetically, craning your neck upwards to stare at him through the sheen of barely-there tears in your eyes. You cling onto his arm to ensure that his fingers stay buried in your cunt and you kiss messily at his chin when you can't quite reach his lower lip.

"You're drunk." This time it's a scold, a light one but a scold all the same as he lets you rub yourself on his fingers, "Just because you're old enough to drink doesn't mean you need to do it like this, hm? Now if you weren't like this things could be different. I could give you more."

"I want more," You whimper, squirming on his lap and tugging his hand impossibly closer as you grind on it, "Please- please?"

"Not now." He hums, using his other hand to settle you down against his chest again while his wrist aches slightly at the contorted position you're holding it in. "After this you're going to bed. And we'll talk in the morning."

"I'll still love you in the morning. I have for a long time." You warn him, words muffled against the shirt over his chest.

He chooses not to respond- he's not sure how he could say anything that would properly sum up his feelings as he rubs his fingers through your cunt- but he knows at the very least that the feelings he can't put into words are truthful, and they'll remain in the morning even if yours don't.

[alchemocha]

Jimbotnik gets very clingy when he’s sleepy, and boy does the sleepy hit him hard when it does. Literal zombie man that craves cuddles instead of brains

[creganslover]

My King

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon! Wife! Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: You find your dear husband sulking in his study.

Word count: 1.2k

Warning/s: sad jace, passive agressive jace? lol, suggestive themes towards the end but no smut! no use of y/n

Note: just inspired by jace and baela's scene in s2ep8 hehe aka i just wanna give him a hug and kiss him all over is that too much to ask- likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are greatly appreciated ❣️

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Tracing over the scripture on the tome, you shift yourself, crossing a leg over the other as your brain tries to consume the content within the pages, even if it was already deep within the night, the air seeping into your bones if it were not for the candles distanced around you. 

The candles flickered, casting a warm glow, the night air making you already feel the pull of exhaustion from today’s events, however one was keeping you from the graces of sleep.

You wondered where your husband was, Jace. 

You had been waiting for his return to your shared chambers, but recently, he looked occupied with trying to reign in his own mother as well as trying to be by her side, you could not blame him for the way he had been acting. You supported her cause, but you could see how it had been affecting Jacaerys lately. 

Huffing, you rubbed at your eyes, closing and pushing the book away as you stood, about to come looking for Jacaerys. 

It felt more often than not you had to fetch him from wherever he may be just to go and drag him to bed with you just so he could find sleep. 

Your feet led you downstairs, bunching your robes so you do not accidentally step and fall over these stone steps, though the thought made you almost laugh. Those thoughts are quickly forgotten when you spot Jacaerys down the open door of his study. 

Peeking in curiously, you saw him, elbow perched on his desk, side of his head propped against his fist as he was slowly turning the pages of a book with his other hand, his face pulled to a frown, brows knitted in thought. You might find it endearing if it wasn’t for the situation.

Poor boy doesn’t even register your presence as you slipped in, making it eventually known by speaking. 

“It does not befit a prince to pout.” You suddenly say, Jacaerys stilling for a moment, his heart spiking but eventually relaxing as his mind registers your voice, making him close his eyes shut and release a deep sigh. 

“I’m not pouting.” Came his reply. Leave it to your husband…

“What would you call it then, husband?” You voiced, shuffling the books on the chair behind him, placing it onto the desk before sitting beside him. “I’m reading, wife.” As if to send his point across, he turns a page in between his two fingers, but he does not even seem to be glancing at the sheet. 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh. “You’re angry.” 

That’s when Jace finally moves to face you. “Aren’t you?”

You look down for a moment to shrug, of course the idea was bizarre and clearly a blow to your family’s honor. “I don’t see what good it would do.” you reply, “They are an insult to us.” Jace murmured, looking ahead of him, jaw clenching. “To what makes us Targaryens.”

“If any common lout can ride a dragon, then–” You were quick to cut him off. “Yet that does not make me common. Or you.” You try to convince him, inching your chair closer to your betrothed. 

“You know what I am.” He responded, no, that’s not what you were going to have. “I do not care, Jace.” You firmly said, reaching for his hands underneath the desk as you looked at him while he maintained to avoid your gaze. 

Raising a hand of his enclasped in yours, you press your lips against the back of his hand, a show of affection. “You are the crown prince, the son of the rightful queen- and here you are sulking because you believe that if not for the dragon, or the trappings of your station- that you are nothing.”

Placing your hand still holding his on your lap, you couldn’t help but just want to drown out your husband’s thoughts and distress.

“Do you believe that you are the first noble heir who was not sired by his noble father?” Taking an inhale of breath, you added. “Such is the way of the world, Jace, and in resenting it you only diminish yourself.” 

Hoping it will come through to him as you stroke your thumb on his hand that was now on your leg, his palm resting on the flesh through your robes. 

He still doesn’t meet your gaze and it sends you frustrated, but you keep trying anyway. “Easy enough to say.” He replied, voice tinged with rancor. You see him swallow as he stares into the void of candles and books. “I’ve heard the whispers the whole of my life.”

Your face pulls to a sympathetic look, gaze momentarily flickering to the ground, cursing the accusations Jace had been succumbed to ever since in your youth. You squeezed his hand on your leg, your gaze holding onto him. “Then prove to them you are worthy, you are Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne- no one would change that, unless you will not get up and take your place by your mother’s side.”

After what felt like an eternity, Jacaerys finally gave in and had looked at you, though still shying away as he leaned his head back, blinking away the moisture from his eyes. You sigh, squeezing his hand again.

You felt that silence was enough, letting your words sink into Jacaerys’ mind. “I’m sorry.” He said after a while, in which you shook your head. “There is no need to be sorry, Jace.” You reach up, cupping his face with your free hand as you slowly make him turn his head to face you, to look earnestly in your eyes. 

“I am with you, through your ups and downs.” You murmur, stroking your thumb across the apple of his cheek, “We’ll get through this together, we’ll end this war, see your mother to the throne.” You promised, leaning in to capture his lips to seal the vow. 

He reciprocates, squeezing your leg as his other hand found your arm, tracing up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. 

“What would I do without you?” He murmured against you, breaths mingling together in a dance as your lips brushed against the other.. 

“Perhaps still pouting and sulking, my king.” You teased, pulling back and getting up from your chair, sending Jace befuddled yet stimulated, you calling him king had seemed to fry every last thought he had before recovering.

A smirk came to his face, amused at your teasing as he also rushed to stand, lunging to try and capture you in his arms, but you had anticipated it as you easily slipped from his grasp, his troubles melting as the wax on the lit candles. 

“You tease me now, wife? How shall I punish you if I ever become king?” It sent your heart fluttering and your insides heating as Jace played along, making you continue your act, placing your hand above your chest in mock disbelief. It was a start, you would always want to see your husband in high spirits. 

“That is if you can catch me first, my king.” 

And with that you were off, stifled laughter down the hall, your robes bunched up in your hands as you ascended the stairs towards your shared chambers… with a fired up dragon hot on your trail.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Mrs. MacTavish's Remedy 🍯

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For all my girlies who have trouble falling asleep 🫶🏻

Johnny himself had times where sleep seemed far away from him... fortunately, Mrs. MacTavish's remedy works wonders not only on loud brains but the soul as well <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your feet patted against the hardwood floor as you made your way into your living room, where your boyfriend was left watching some film on the telly.

The bright light from the television stung in your eyes as you got closer, making an effort to let Johnny's form shield your retinas so they wouldn't go up in flames.

"Johnny..." you mumbled sleepily, dragging yourself around the couch. A soft smiled settled on his face as he watched you move, already opening his arms for you.

"What's wrong, bonnie?" He asked quietly, pulling you snuggly into his chest when you crawled into his lap.

"Can't sleep.." it came out slurred, sleep tugging at all of your limbs but never enough for you to slip into the sweet bliss of a dream.

"Y'want me tae just hold ya for a bit? See if tha' helps?" Johnny cooed, gently rubbing a hand along the length of your spine and over your shoulder blades. You nodded into his shoulder, tightly wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Mah sweet girl..." he whispered against your temple, his words melting deep into every crevice of your brain. Your body relaxed against him, your cheek pressed to his shoulder while your hands were pressed flat to his back.

The warmth radiating off of him and his large hands gently tracing shapes on your back usually put you to sleep in the blink of an eye, but today, for some reason, sleep was playing a cruel game with you, dangling a pleasant dream right in front of your face without ever letting you reach it.

You wanted to toss and turn, but Johnny's hold on you had you paralyzed. The trouble was that you didn't know whether it made it better or worse.

You could feel Johnny yawning more and more as the film went on and eventually came to an end.

The loud noises from various explosions and firefights gave you a headache, making you bury your face even deeper into his shoulder. You were glad it ended. Maybe it was the sole reason why you couldn't fall asleep in the first place.

The crease between your brows softened, and a quiet sigh slipped from your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny was smiling down at you, albeit sleepily as he was exhausted himself, but he couldn't help admiring you.

"Let's get tae bed, yeah?" He spoke quietly, pressing his lips against your temple.

You nodded against his shoulder, sliding off his lap and waiting for him to take the lead.

With your fingers intwined, Johnny gently dragged you along to your shared bedroom. But to your surprise and slight confusion, he made a stop in the kitchen.

"Johnny, what..." you mumbled, your brows scrunched together.

He gave you a soft yet dazzling smile and beckoned you to sit on the counter. You were past the point of complaining, so with his help, you slid onto the cold stone.

"You said ya can't sleep... so I'm makin' you somethin' my mam used tae make me when I was but a wee lad." He added a joking tone to his voice, presumably to lighten your spirits.

It coaxed a soft chuckled from your chest, and your hands went up to rub at your sleepy eyes.

He pulled open the fridge, the bright light making you squint, and took out a carton of milk.

"You, mah bonnie lass, get the luxury of milk from a carton. Had to milk the cows maself back then." He winked at you playfully, making you roll your eyes in turn.

"Sure you did, love." You snorted softly, watching him as he poured the milk into a mug and popped it in the microwave.

The soft hum of the appliance continued on while Johnny rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out a small glass jar.

"Ah, there it is." He declared triumphantly, showing off the container.

"I call it ma sleep elixir. Brought it all the way from home fer emergencies like this."

A golden, gooey mass shimmered in the glass. It looked like a recycled marmalade jar, labeled with a sticker that read;

for sweet dreams when you're missing home ♡

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you recognized the handwriting that, undoubtedly, belonged to Mrs. MacTavish.

She'd sent Johnny, as well as yourself, numerous post cards and letters in the past, so that signature swirl in her words made it easy to spot.

Johnny gently pressed the container into your hands, busying himself with trying to take the mug out off the microwave without burning his fingerprints off- although, the tactical advantage of that wouldn't be the worst, he supposed...

You inspected the small jar, carefully turning it in your hands to watch as the sugary crystals shimmered in the dim light.

Your gaze fell back on the label, gently stroking over it with your thumb.

"This is your mum's writing, yeah?" You asked softly, adoringly looking over the heart that was drawn with such care you could feel the love radiating off of it.

"Aye," he replied with a smile, taking a spoon from one of the drawers, "Mam loves the countryside. She'd drag me and mah sisters tae farmers markets all the time. And she'd always stock up on this here honey. Swears it was the only thin' that knocked me out so she could get a break." He snickered.

You chuckled in response. You loved Johnny, but lord knows if you could've handled him as an energetic rascal.

Gently handing him the precious glass, you watched as he scooped a spoonful of the honey out of the jar and plopped it down into the mug of warm milk.

"Now," he began, slightly leaning on the counter, "we stir clockwise, 9 times precisely." The serious quirk in his brow made you break into a sleepy fit of giggles.

"You're brewing a potion now, are you?" You tilted your head with a small grin.

"I'll become a wizard in the woods if tha' means ya get some sleep." He winked, tapping the spoon on the rim of the mug.

The spoon was tossed into the sink to find and clean up the next morning, something you would've scolded him for if you cared enough right now.

"Careful now. Might be a wee bit hot." John smiled softly, handing you the warm mug.

Of course it was a cheesy souvenir with a giant Scotland flag plastered on it. It was well worn and loved from the, borderline unhealthy, amounts of coffee Johnny had consumed from it, but it was dearly appreciated.

It had a chip here and there and the print was starting to abide by the rules of the dishwasher.

Although it was just a cup, the fact that he chose his cup made you smile, and your heart flood with warmth.

You raised the mug to your lips, taking a sip and letting the warm and sweet liquid trickle down your esophagus and into your belly.

"This is some good honey." You hummed, tasting the floral aroma of the liquid gold.

You could imagine meadows upon meadows of wildflowers of all kinds and the soothing buzzing of all those busy little bees that worked hard to make their honey.

What would it like to be so free? To buzz around and occasionally rest on the soft petal of a poppy.

"Ah told ya, didn't I? Mam knows what she's doin'." He chuckled, gently caressing the outside of your thighs.

"Do you want some?" You offered him the mug, only for him to decline with a gesture of his hand.

"I'll be out on the floor if Ah have a sip of tha'."

"That would suck." You agreed, continuing to sip on the milk.

"Aye. Ya need someone to keep you nice 'n cozy after all." He smirked, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your head.

You giggled, the vibration against his throat sending a shiver down his spine.

"You're a wonderful cuddle buddy." At the warmth of his embrace your eyes began to fall shut.

"I'm glad ma services are to your satisfaction, my love." He joked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"'M tired.." you mumbled, resting your weight against him.

"Come on, bonnie." Johnny spoke softly, helping you off the counter, his mug a safe distance away from the edge to deal with in the morning.

His back was facing you as his hands stretched out behind him so he could guide you to your bedroom, your eyes feeling like they were glued shut.

The moment you slipped into that bed, everything that bothered you faded away.

You could swear the sheets felt softer than usual, your pillow was unusually fluffy, and as Johnny pulled the blanket over both of you, it was the perfect temperature beneath.

The window was cracked open for that bit of fresh air that made sleep that much more pleasant.

Despite Johnny's tendency to become a living furnace, he too, had the just the right amount of heat to keep you cozy but not too hot. Your face nuzzled into his chest gave you the perfect feeling of safety.

It felt like you were wrapped in clouds, basking under the sun, a nice breeze blowing over you with the taste of the sweet honey and the creamy milk still on your tongue.

You'd mentally thanked Johnny's mum for her remedy, something you couldn't wait to tell her on your next visit. Perhaps a thank you card for raising the love of your life would be in order as well.

With a contented sigh, your muscles relaxed and you sunk into the mattress. It was nice and quite, except for Johnny's loud breathing and the occasional snore, but the sound gave you a sense of comfort now.

Knowing that he was alive and breathing made you sleep much easier at night.

You opened one eye as much as you could and took a peak at Johnny, who was blissfully unaware and knocked out the second his head hit the pillow.

You smiled sleepily, gently rubbing your hand over his beating heart before pressing your lips to that same spot in a sweet kiss.

"Love you, Johnny." You mumbled, letting yourself finally slip away into a much needed rest.

The subconscious tightening of his hold on you let you know that no matter how many dreams you were apart, he'd always hear you, for your souls were intertwined and would find eachother every time.

Whether in this life or the next, nothing could tear the two of you apart.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The CoD fandom is lacking fluff in my opinion, so I'm here to provide 😌🩷

Should I make a CoD tag list??? 👀

More of my works -> 💫

[feyascorner]

blurry eyes

summary. Orin takes Astarion as a hostage and you nearly lose your mind trying to get him back. Even when you do, things aren't the way they used to be.

warnings. angst/comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. fluffier break from TFBU bec it's draining the soul out of me🧍‍♀️ this is kinda messy but for me orin always kidnaps lae’zel and Im glad it’s never astarion but what if;;;

You're not yourself. Everyone knows it. Not since Orin showed up at camp wearing Astarion's face, his own blood smeared on the poor imitation of the cheeks you love so deeply. She taunted you, smiling wickedly in a way that made your stomach churn before you lunged at her with a blade, only for her to vanish into a mist of red.

You usually prefer to use your silver tongue to get out of a dangerous situation. But now, all you want to see is her blood sprayed across a wall.

There are bags under your eyes, going days without sleep. You hadn't realized how accustomed you'd become to his arms cradling you in the dead of night, his cold hands wrapped around your shoulders and your cheek pressed against the crook of his neck. You hadn't realized how attached you'd gotten to him.

The fight is quick. Despite your companion's warnings to get some rest, you charged into Bhaal's temple the moment you had access to it, and rightfully so, because she didn't stand a chance against your wrath.

And now, even with him at your fingertips, laying so peacefully on a stone slab with his eyes shut, all you can feel is the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You gently touch his cheek, and you find that it's cold, as it's always been. There's a slice of a knife, surely to leave a scar if it's not treated well. You smile a bit, the first time in days, thinking of how he'd complain about the blemish a few weeks from now.

He finally stirs, and when his eyes peel open to your face, his face falls.

"Gods above," he whispers. "Stop with the damn tricks, Orin. I'm no fool."

Your heart breaks. And while all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and wipe away his frown, the adrenaline holding you together is long gone. You're exhausted, you realize, only managing to grab the edge of the stone slab before you crumple onto your knees, vision going blurry.

Ah, maybe you should have rested.

No, not when he'd been here to suffer alone, forced to face Orin's blood-thirst. Not when you'd smelled his blood on her blade.

You want to comfort him, but nothing comes through your throat.

The two of you don't speak much. He doesn't speak much to anyone, for that matter, for a few days. You can sense the uneasiness of your other companions, who don't dare ask what Orin did to him while you'd nearly lost yourself trying to get to him. You don't approach him, fearing he might recoil away.

The only thing you can do is watch over him while he writhes in his bed, drenched with sweat and nightmares you cannot take away. You're not even sure if they're about Cazador or Orin anymore, but you can't bring yourself to touch him or the healing scar on his cheek in hopes of soothing him.

It's only two weeks later when most of your companions have gone out, and it's just the two of you on opposite sides of the room. You rub at your blade with a cloth, numbly focused on sharpening it for a bigger foe while he's still reading his book in a silence that should feel comfortable but only makes your mouth dry.

"Hells, I can't do this anymore."

You blink as he strides across the room, and he's suddenly sitting next to you while you continue staring at him like he grew a mushroom from his head. "Do what?"

"We must talk about---well, you know, darling."

Even in this brittle stage of your relationship, the way he says your nickname is loving. It makes your heart squeeze.

You place the blade on the ground. "Okay. We can talk."

There's a silence that hangs in the air before he sighs. "Torture is not a foreign concept to me, my dear. If my years under Cazador's palace did anything for me, it's made my pain tolerance impossibly high."

You frown. This does not make you feel better.

He eyes you from the side, leaning back on both his hands. "What I'm trying to say is, you don't have to worry so much about me. Even if I were to perish, I'm sure there are other vampires willing to help you with your cause to defeat the Elder Brain, though they'd be considerably less charming."

You're immediately on your feet. "Of course, I was worried about you! And I don't care if you've gone through hell and back, pain is still pain, and I don't want to see or think about you even stepping foot into something like that, much less the temple of the Lord of Murder!"

He stands after you. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Other vampires?" you say in disbelief. "Well, I don't want other vampires, I want the one that I can't even sleep without."

Your eyes are glossy now, and you hate yourself for it. You should be consoling him, not becoming emotional over the torture that he experienced. But the words come out like vomit, and you can't stop yourself.

"Love, please don’t ruin your pretty face with tears,” he tries, hands awkwardly hanging in the air as he struggles to find what to do.

“Don't act like getting kidnapped isn't a big deal," you swipe at your eyes. "You won't even talk to us."

He blinks. "Me? Avoid speaking with you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, forgive me for giving you space. You looked positively demented after you were done stabbing that vile woman to the death, I assumed you needed time to recover before I could approach you."

"What? I was giving you space."

"I assure you it was the other way around.”

“You were avoiding me!”

“Because you were avoiding me!”

You're both just staring at each other now, at a loss of words for what turned out to be a miscommunication that should have been resolved days ago. The silence hangs thickly in the air, and a rush of emotions runs between you two, expressions shifting every few moments before they simultaneously become one.

He purses his lips to refrain from smiling. You stifle a laugh.

Then you're both laughing and while the topic of discussion does not warrant as such, you can't help yourself when days of ignoring one another have come down to such a minor bump between you. When both of you calm, you sigh again, this time in utter relief. "This was anticlimactic."

"It was," he confirms. "But this one time, I don't mind."

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest while he returns the gesture by holding you tighter. You stand there a bit, quietly, until he clears his throat.

"For the record, I don't want you to go around searching for other vampires."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You decide he can tell you more about what happened when the time comes, but now, you're more than happy the way you are.

[ushiwhacka]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,080 words | established relationship, prone bone, creampie, body worship, it's still summer in my <3

he’s warm underneath you, skin soaked in sun and dusted in salt flakes. slow in the afternoon heat as you lay entangled, knees knocking together, your nose pressed into his neck, fingers massaging his scalp, and his arms loose around you. he smells of sweet coconut and the sea. 

the air sticky and hot, it wraps around you and sinks into your pores. the kind of warmth that feels like melting, blurs the edges of your bodies into one another. 

you’re lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest, and wake to a kiss on the crown of your head with the taste of his skin sitting on your lips. he washes the dreams out of your eyes   and zips up your dress. drags his knuckles over your spine then kisses you right at the base do your neck.

and he holds you close, lets you cling onto his arm as you walk along cobblestoned streets. your heels unsteady over slippery stones. watches your every step from underneath knitted brows as you look around and gasp and point out pretty buildings. 

wakatoshi tries to get his fill of you, how you purse your lips in thought while reading the menu, how you turn away, just a little flustered under the weight of deep olive eyes. the expectant look on your face as you shove a fork into his mouth, and he agrees that it’s so good because everything you give him is good. 

he holds your hand in his over the table, squeezes it tighter at the feeling of your foot on his calf. unassuming and batting your eyelashes as you go above his knee, press into the muscle of his thigh. 

he’s even more handsome with his skin a deep bronze, a dusting of pink across his sunburnt nose and the tops of his cheeks. he wears his shirt with the top buttons opened just enough for you to see a peek of the hard planes of his chest. and he looks at you with a strange glow in his eyes, only you, precious and his.

and he doesn’t miss the intention in your voice when you coo his name, “wakatoshi,” drag it out into something of a whine, “you should ask for the check.”

you walk with hands intertwined again. maybe it’s the three piña coladas making your head fuzzy, or maybe he has just spoiled you so horribly, but you decide it’s not enough to just hold him. 

you stomp your feet and tug his arm back. “kiss.” you demand with your neck craned up towards him and eyelashes fluttering. 

there’s something about the way he touches you, the way he rubs the pads of his fingers into your cheeks. ardently. gently. how his mouth slots over yours.

the way he sinks onto his knees in the middle of your hotel room. fiddles with the delicate straps of your heels, presses his lips where the buckle has left an imprint in your skin. then he kisses the back of your knee, the inside of your thigh, the wet spot on your panties.

firm hands trace the back of your legs, grip the fat of your ass. he pulls you forward, buries himself deeper between your thighs, helps you rub your pussy on his face. and gasps turn into silent cries each time his nose catches on your clit. the friction only enough to build your frustration.

“wakatoshi,” it comes out so small, “please. i need you inside me.” he can never resist when you look at him with such pleading eyes, with tears welling up at your lash line. “please, toshi.”

he gives you what you want. always does. 

you whimper into the sheets as he sinks into you. his hand on your lower belly, pulling you up towards him. and even when he’s throbbing inside you, every muscle alight with the need to thrust into you, feel your walls stretch painfully around his girth, he resists. he waits until your body relaxes under him. eager lips drag against your spine and over your shoulder blades, leave searing, open-mouthed kisses up the back of your neck. 

his other arm wraps around your chest, holds you close enough that you can feel the beat of his heart against your back. 

gravelly and dark when he speaks in you ear. “are you alright, darling?”

“no.” your voice breaks. “can you just fuck me already?”

you choke on air your own spit when he pushes into you, when you feel him in the deepest parts of you dripping cunt. it’s new and overwhelming and sends a mess of pleas and prayers scratching up your throat. the tip of his cock sits so snug at your cervix, rubs against it each time he grinds his hips into you. so intentionally slow. 

there’s something about being held so tightly, trapped and helpless in his arms, the raw power of his body pressing into you. the already heavy air feels thicker and you gasp to suck in a breath after each drawn out, squeaky whimper. 

all you can feel is him — the amber of his cologne, the heat of his skin, his breath hot and hitching at the nape of your neck, the salty tinge of his sweat where your tongue lolls out to taste his forearm, low grunts that tingle in your ear and down your spine, the hard muscle where you sink your nails into his flesh.

wakatoshi loses himself in the feeling, in you. there’s something predatory and repressed that overwhelms his senses when he has you limp and trembling underneath him. how you take all of him and keen and whine and beg for more. how your pussy squeezes around him, how it drools all hot and slick when he whispers an “i love you” into the fat of your cheek. whiny and sniffling when you demand he comes inside you.

his chest heaving, he drops his forehead in the dip of your shoulders. listens to the sweet sounds of contented sighs sour into complaints when he even thinks about moving away from you. and he gives you what you want once again, drapes his body over yours and nuzzles into your neck, spoils you with kisses so tender they make you giggle. and he lets you spoil him with your love, wring him and twist him in any way you want. because being wanted by you is the most devastating pleasure he’s ever known.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[dramaticals]

you're too good for him - chapter one.

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: you're theo's best friend and he's secretly pining over you... but you have a boyfriend. modern au. based on what can i do by reneé rapp.

✧ read: part two ✧

Theodore doesn't get it.

Your relationship with your boyfriend has always perplexed him. Your boyfriend was best described as moderate—moderate in humor, intelligence, and looks. You could do so much better.

Especially now, as you bite back the tears and bury your face in the crook of Theo's neck when you can't hold it back any more, he wonders why you still put up with the guy.

Theo pulls you closer, and he feels a quiet breath of relief against his neck as you sink into him.

It's becoming a regular occurrence now—not that Theo minded. He'd prefer having you to himself under better circumstances, but this seemed like the only way you two could hang out as of late. And as much pain you were in, Theo selfishly relished in these moments when you'd forget about lover boy and remember him. Remember that it used to be you and him. Even if your remembering only lasted a night.

You and Theo were an unlikely pair, shoved together by the fates—first grade school bus seating. The spot next to Theo was the only seat left on the bus, and after he reluctantly slid his backpack over to make room for you, the two of you became inseparable.

While Theo was reserved, you were the burst of energy that compelled everyone in the room. While Theo had a temper, you had the patience of a gentle stream. You balanced each other out. Maybe even made each other better. For the next thirteen years, it had only ever been you and Theo—until lover boy came along. And then Theo made himself sparse, pushing you away until you were arms length instead of right by his side because it had killed him to see you so happy with someone that wasn't him.

And it was unlike Theo to get in the way of your happiness. If you claimed you were happy with lover boy, then Theo just had to deal with it. You made that clear to Theo the first time he tried to intervene.

"Why are you acting like this?" You had asked when Theo first pointed out lover boy's flaws. By this point, the rose-coloured lenses were etched onto you like stone.

"Like what?" Theo spat. This was the first time his anger had been directed at you. You didn't let it faze you.

"Like... you're jealous, or something." You said, voice thick with animosity.

Theo's eyes darkened. He was jealous. Jealous that you refused to notice how Theo looked at you. Jealous that it took one stupid note from lover boy for you to forget all about him.

But he was also concerned. He was trying to look out for you.

"I just don't understand why you can't be happy for me." You continued, unaware of the hurt expression on Theo's face. "You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am your friend," Theo said softly.

Ever since that night, Theo sat pathetically and idly on the sidelines, watching you fall more in love with someone who didn't deserve you. Theo picked up the pieces lover boy shattered every time. Because he was your friend.

But if Theo was anything else, he was also relentless. While Theo stopped trying to tell you what to do, he didn't hide his disdain for your boyfriend. Especially on nights like these.

"You want me to hurt him? I'll gladly hurt him." Theo says, and this prompts you to shake your head. Theo asks this every time you come crawling over with tears staining your cheeks. And every time, you refuse. You know Theo well enough to know he'd do it in a heartbeat. He was just that type of friend to you.

"He's not worth it." You say, pulling back a little so you could face him. You sniffled.

Even in the dim lighting of Theo's bedroom, he can see the red in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, and the inexplicable expression of heartbreak on your face.

God, he really wanted to hurt the guy.

"I don't know, I think I'd have fun." Theo says, his hand mindlessly rubbing against the small of your back. His lips curl into a small smile at the mere thought of his fists in lover boy's face.

After everything he'd done to you, it was only a matter of time before Theo intervened again.

"No," You say again. You give him a weak smile. "I'd rather you stay here with me."

And so that's what Theo does. He stays, pulls you into the familiar comfort of his bed, and turns on your favourite movie. Theo doesn't care for it, having been forced to watch the movie a million times before. But he makes an effort, letting out his own share of chuckles and commentary you've discussed a hundred times over.

When the credits roll, you're nuzzled against him comfortably. Your hand rests lazily against his chest as you shift closer to him. He rests his cheek against the top of your head.

"You're a really great friend, Theo." You say with a yawn. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

Friend.

His breath hitches and he curses himself for the visceral reaction. Of course that's what he was—what he'll always be to you. Why couldn't he just get it through his head?

Theo swallows hard. He's thankful the screen goes black now, shielding the grimace on his face.

"Lost, probably."

[buckys-little-belle]

i have a fluffy drabble idea: steve or bucky (because they have super strength) using a throw blanket to sawddle wrap you to secure you to their chest. and then they carry you around while they do their tasks. and then you're lulled to sleep by their heartbeat and gentle voice explaining their paperwork to you

-🐝

Swaddle Snuggle

Steve Rogers x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used) / Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Warnings - Talks of reader feeling "down"/sad and/or stressed, snuggles, use of "Dada"

Notes - I made these headcannons because I feel like they'd both be so different when it comes to swaddle snuggles, and I couldn't pick just one of them to write about! This ask is also so old, like over a year old, and I miss my bee anon, and I'm sorry I didn't get this out sooner! I hope y'all like it!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!!!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

Steve

Steve loves when you're snuggly and clingy. He always looks forward to the days where you can't be away from him for more than a second.

He used to just sit with you in his lap on the couch when you needed a close contact day, he'd do whatever work he could from his laptop, and he'd pick you up and carry you around the house when he had to get up.

But that wasn't very practical. He often had things during the day that required two hands, and you hated being put down.

So he adjusted, he found a light weight big blanket and created a swaddle sling. You sat with your legs around his waist like usual, chest to chest, with your hands trapped between the two of you. The blanket worked mainly as a bottom support keeping you in a sitting position against his chest, but it also went over your back, giving you extra warmth and allowing Steve to bend over when needed.

It made everything easier, you could stay snuggled against him and he could do computer work, or the laundry, or make lunch. He had two hands, and you had all the cuddles you needed.

If it was a cold day he would often lay a fuzzy blanket over your back when he sat down. He'd be sat in his office chair, you on his lap, and a fuzzy blanket keeping you warm from the open window's slight breeze.

To be fair he was a super solider ... So he ran warmer than most, and his body heat kept you quite warm.

Nap time was nice because instead of being on the second floor in your playroom, far away from you Dada, you could take a nap wherever he was.

The comfort of his hand rubbing slow circles against your back comforting you. And the constant pitter patter of his keyboard keys often lulled you to sleep.

Bucky

Bucky didn't wait for you to have needy days. He sometimes needed to have you in his arms all day to remind him that you were there, with him and needing him.

So he'd found a way to wrap you up, the same as Steve. You plastered to his chest as he went about his day.

He didn't work at a desk as often as Steve, so he often had you with him as he went on a walk around the property, finding cool stones and sticks to add to your collection. You'd be stuck close to him as he meal prepped for the week, him saying the recipes and directions out loud as soft instrumental music played.

That often lulled you to sleep. The soft swaying that happened as he walked around the kitchen, and his deep voice mixed with the soft music. It was easy to fall asleep that way.

Sometimes he'd have you sit in the wrap facing the other way, your back to his chest.

He'd have you that way as he worked on the cars, your hands able to hold onto wrenches or random objects to keep you engaged. Because he would pick random days to have you stuck to him you often were more hyper aware. Talking and babbling about things, grabbing for things with your hands.

But he still needed you so close, so you sat facing outwards. He liked the way he could snuggle you close at all times, but still hear your infectious laugh, and how he could make sure you didn't leave his sight, but you could also still play go fish with him.

Even though they were two very different ways to be swaddled you looked forward to both. Excited to be Steve's little Snuggle Bear or Bucky's little Sidekick.

[bouncybongfairy]

Sleepy Head

König x Fem Reader

Summary: Frivolous sex with König.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Smut Without Plot, Riding D!ck, Sloppy BlowJob, CreamPie

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

There wasn’t any romantic backstory or awkward tension that was building. It was the day before Task Force 141’s next mission and you wanted to catch a dick beforehand. You know: wanting to let your stress out on someone. It honestly could have been any of the guys, but lately you had your eyes on König. The last few missions you were paired together, there were a few moments that made you question everything. The way he’d instinctually grab your arm when shit was hitting the fan. 

Or the worried sound he carried in his voice when he worried you were MIA. The way he’s pressed his body against you from behind when you would interrogate hostels. You were sitting in your bedroom, listening to the sound of the clock ticking away. Tonight you were finding it extremely difficult to keep König out of your mind. Your mind racing with scenarios of the two of you. More vile and raunchy than you’d care to admit. Bouncing your leg while laying on your back, trying to let your brain rest. 

After twenty minutes of no success you decided to sit up. Putting a pair of socks on and walking to König’s room, quietly opening the door and slipping in. He was laying on his back, no blanket. His body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, nothing but boxers on. His chest and stomach steadily rose with every breath he took. The light coming from his window was casting onto him. He looked so statuesque and strong; like all his muscles were carved from stone. 

You crawled onto the bed, gently starting to leave kisses on his happy trail. Dipping your fingers into his boxers and running them along his waistband. You giggled as you watched him slowly stir in his sleep. Pulling them down, letting his member become exposed. You were taken back, even half soft he was huge. Starting to press kisses up and down his shaft, slowly waking him up. Half asleep, he reaches down and holds the side of your face with his hand. 

You took his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Feeling him slowly harden and twitch in your mouth was making your blood buzz. You hallowed out your cheeks and began to slowly bob your head up and down. Gazing up and seeing his face twist up in pleasure, his eyes finally flickering open to look down at you. Now that he was more awake, he was becoming more active. 

Grabbing a fist full of your hair and and fucking his length into your mouth. You rolled your eyes back, feeling his veins throb against your lips. Tightly wrapping your lips around him and pulling your head up to his tip. Popping your mouth off and letting all the drool and pre-cum drip down his shaft. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groaned loudly, letting his head fall back. 

It made you feel so powerful seeing how reactive he was to your touch. You stood up, pulling your shorts down and letting them hang off your ankle. Straddling his hips and positioning yourself over his cock. He was pulling up your shirt, using his index finger and thumb to start playing with your nipples. Twisting and pinching, his eyes dazed and sleepy. As you sunk down on his length, you had to bite your lip. 

Hiding mewls and whimpers from the stretch. Now fully sat, he grabbed your hips and ran his two thumbs up and down the skin of your lower belly. He was respectful and didn’t move while you adjusted. Admiring your body as you squirmed, trying to get comfortable. He pulled you down, pressing his lips against your neck. Sucking hickies and biting down on your skin; anytime he ran his tongue over an overly sensitive part of your neck, your walls would tighten around him. It didn’t take long for you to start rocking your hips. You were gripping the pillow on either side of his head. 

He pauses for a moment and arches his body up, shoving a pillow underneath him. Everytime you rocked your hips forward your clit would rub against the base of his cock; that was completely soaked from your juices. You were working yourself on his length, chasing your orgasm frantically. He was enamored by you, sweat was starting to drip down your forehead. Face completely red and flushed, mouth hanging open and panting. Seeing how hard you were working your body for him was a sight to see. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on the small of his back. Smearing the small layer of sweat that had accumulated. Both of you were finding it hard to contain your vocals. Pleasure raking through both your bodies, the feeling of being full was damn near euphoric. The bottom of your stomach is like a fire pit, burning from the inside out. He was now fucking his hips into you, loving how you’d gasp and clench when he went that much deeper. 

Nails digging into the flesh of your hips, the sinsation just enough to send you over the edge.Your movements became stiff as your body contracted; König ended up doing most of the work after this point. Flipping you onto your back and rutting into you at a frantic rate. Slowly down and pressing his length as deep as he could before finally cumming. Emptying himself into you, groaning and growling into your ear. 

He was so big, his body engulfed yours. Wrapping his arm around your neck and pressing your mouth into his collar bone. He did this a little aggressively, due to you becoming louder with moaning. The two of you laid there in silence for a while, catching your breath. Without words you got up, collecting your clothes and getting dressed. Quietly running back to your room, trying to make it before cum started running down your thighs.

[jetii]

Promises Made (pt. 3/3)

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 10,651 / 23,314

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation

Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.

A/N: Okay yes so this chapter is almost half the entire word count, and yes it's because of the smut, but it's also because of love. Thank you so much to everyone who commented and shared this fic. I hope this is the satisfying ending you were hoping for. 💙

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

Crosshair stood vigil while you moved dirt and silt, using the Force to finish smoothing over the makeshift grave. He remained quiet as you knelt beside the fresh patch of earth, placing the stone on top. And he watched as you bowed your head, saying a quiet prayer for the Jedi Master. 

You did all you could, burying him deep under a layer of rocks and snow, a final resting place for the man you once thought of as a father. You weren't able to give him the funeral pyre he deserved, not with the storm raging around you, but at least he had a final resting place. And maybe, you could come back when the weather was better, and have a proper ceremony.

Now, you stand, your Master's lightsaber in your hand, the wind whipping at your face. You're chilled to the bone, but the pain is nothing compared to the grief in your chest. You stare at the ground, at the stone that marks his grave, and the tears are a welcome relief.

Crosshair remains a respectful distance away, and you can feel his gaze, his concern. His presence is a comfort, and you take a deep breath, your eyes slipping closed.

"We should head back," he says quietly.

You nod, and the tears sting your cheeks. But your feet remain rooted to the ground, the grief like a physical weight holding you in place.

"Hey."

Crosshair's voice is soft, and you feel his hand on your shoulder. The world comes back into sharp focus under his touch.

You turn to look at him, and the sight of him is almost enough to make you break down. He moves closer, his gaze sweeping slowly over you, and his other hand lifts, gently wiping the tears from your cheeks. You want to say something, but the words die in your throat.

He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. The sudden movement surprises you, and you gasp, but his grip is strong, and you let yourself melt into his embrace.

"It's okay," he murmurs. "Let it out."

The small hiccups you allow yourself turn into sobs, the sound muffled by his armor as he rubs circles on your back. It's been a long time since anyone's held you like this, and you can't stop the tears.

"I've got you," he says quietly, barely loud enough for you to hear over the wind swirling around you.

You wrap your arms around him, holding onto him like a lifeline. Crosshair is strong and solid and real, and you can feel the weight of his arm around your waist, can hear the beating of his heart through his chest. His fingers brush against the nape of your neck, and you shiver. He doesn't let go, doesn't loosen his grip, and you can feel the warmth of his touch spreading slowly throughout your body.

You're not sure how long he holds you, but you know the two of you can't stay out in the storm forever. You pull away, wiping the tears from your eyes.

You feel the embarrassment creeping in, and you hate the fact that he saw you like this, weak and vulnerable. It's why you wanted to do this on your own, yet you can't help but be grateful for Crosshair's company. You’re not sure if you would have been able to go through with it without him.

He pulls his arm away, his hand lingering on your shoulder. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I..." You look down at the lightsaber in your hands and back to the grave. Your throat feels tight, and your voice is rough.

"You should keep it," Crosshair says.

"I can't. It's his, I—"

"He would've wanted you to have it."

You shake your head, unable to respond. You're not worthy of the weapon, the honor, and you're not sure you'll ever be.

"Take it," he says, his voice soft. "It's the only thing you have left of him."

"But—"

"Take it," he says again. His voice is almost pleading. It makes you hesitate, and your fingers twitch.

He lifts his hand, covering your own. His touch is gentle, and his fingers curl around yours, his gloves pressing against your skin, molding your grip.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Don't thank me," he says, his tone serious. "You deserve it."

Your heart swells, and your throat tightens.

"Okay," you say at last. You tuck the saber into your bag, the weight heavy against your hip.

"Come on," he says, tilting his head. "Let's get back to the ship."

You follow him, and the two of you trudge through the snow. It's nearly up to your knees now, and the wind is blowing hard, making your teeth chatter. Your wet clothes cling to your skin, your feet are freezing, and the temperature is dropping fast.

By the time the you're nearing the landing zone where you left the Marauder, you're shivering uncontrollably. Your limbs feel stiff and numb, your joints aching. Crosshair keeps pace beside you, and he doesn't say anything, but his hand is on your arm, supporting you.

The Marauder looms ahead, the ship's silhouette stark against the horizon. You can see the outline of the cockpit, and you try to pick up your pace, eager to get inside and away from the snow and wind. You're shivering violently, and you can feel the cold seeping into your bones.

"Are you going to be okay tonight?" Crosshair asks. 

You're not sure if he's referring to the weather, or the loss, or both, but either way, you know the answer. 

It’s not the one you give him, though.

"Yeah," you mutter. "I'll be fine."

He sighs. "Liar."

"I'll manage."

"No, you won't." He shakes his head, and the gesture is almost exasperated. You can't help but huff.

"Why, are you offering to cuddle?" You try to smirk, to deflect with humor, but his grip on your arm tightens.

"If it'll help."

Your heart skips a beat, and you stare at him. The cold is making you delirious, that's the only explanation for the words that leave his mouth.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah.” Crosshair avoids your gaze. "You can sleep in my bunk."

"Okay," you say after a moment, and his head snaps up, as though he can't believe the word came from your mouth. The grip on your arm tightens.

"Really?"

You shrug, trying to ignore the way your heart races at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You tell yourself that it's the cold, that he's offering comfort, and that the offer has nothing to do with any lingering feelings he may or may not have.

"Yeah," you say, and the word comes out a little too hoarse. "Why not?"

There's about a million reasons why not, but you don't say them. Instead, you wait, watching him carefully. He looks at you, and even though you can't see his expression, you can feel the intensity of his gaze. 

"Alright," he says, his voice gruff, and the hand on your arm moves, sliding up to rest on your shoulder.

The two of you reach the ship, and the ramp opens, a blast of hot air hitting you in the face. Crosshair helps you up, and the warmth feels so good that you want to cry.

You immediately throw off your bag and kneel to brush the snow from your boots, and you're vaguely aware of him moving past you, toward the cockpit. He tugs off his helmet and tosses it aside, and it lands on the floor somewhere with a dull thump. 

By the time you get your legs to cooperate and rise, Crosshair is already settled in the pilot's seat, running through the preflight checks. Despite being the better pilot of the two of you, you let him take control, not trusting yourself to fly right now. You're tired, and you're cold, and the grief is weighing heavy on your heart.

When you slide into the copilot's seat, he glances over at you, his dark eyes meeting yours. You stare at each other, and you have the urge to say something, anything, to break the silence. But he's looking at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, and the words die in your throat. He turns away just as quickly, his attention returning to the console, and the moment passes.

You try to help him prep the ship, but the exhaustion is too much, and the adrenaline is wearing off. You can't stop shivering, and your muscles ache, the pain nearly unbearable. Crosshair pushes your hand away when you try to set the coordinates back to Pabu, and you can't find it in you to fight him.

He lifts off, the ship groaning in protest, and the wind howls outside. The Marauder shudders, buffeted by the harsh weather, and the engine whines as he navigates the ship into the atmosphere. He's tense, his fingers curled tightly around the controls.

He engages the hyperdrive once you break through the clouds into the atmosphere, and the ship hums, the stars stretching into hyperspace. You slump in your seat, exhaustion and grief taking their toll. You lean your head back, and your eyelids droop.

You're barely aware of him as he stands, and the next thing you know, you feel his arms scooping you up, lifting you easily. You blink, and his face is inches from yours. Your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, clinging to him as he walks.

"I can walk," you protest weakly.

"Shut up," he says, but you can hear the concern in his voice. "You're freezing."

You try to come up with a witty retort, but the words don't come, and you're too tired to care. Crosshair carries you through the ship, and you close your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder, the heat of his body a welcome relief.

He sets you on the edge of his bunk, and his hands are gentle, careful. You're not sure what to say. The moment is surreal, and the exhaustion is making it difficult to focus. Your eyes blink open, and he's kneeling in front of you, his face just inches away.

"Let's get these off," he says as he starts to pull at your soaked clothing.

"Cross, I can undress myself," you say, the embarrassment making you blush.

"Just let me help," he sighs, his voice oddly quiet.

"But I—"

"I'm not letting you freeze to death. Now shut up and let me take care of you."

"Cross, really—"

"Please," he says, and the word is so foreign to his vocabulary that it gives you pause. "Just...let me do this."

"Okay," you murmur, the sincerity in his tone almost enough to make you cry.

He starts with your socks, trailing puddles of water on the ground, and your jacket goes next. The fabric clings to your skin, and his hands are slow and careful as he pulls the material away.

You shiver, and the chill is still lingering. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your lower stomach. The contact sends a jolt of something through you, and you inhale sharply.

"Sorry," Crosshair mumbles, his voice hoarse.

"No, it's...it's fine," you manage.

"I won't look."

"Crosshair, I—"

"I'll just close my eyes, and—"

"No, it's fine," you say. You reach up, your hands grasping the hem of the shirt, and you lift it over your head before he can say another word.

Crosshair doesn't move, doesn't speak. His breath catches, and you're sure he's staring at you, but you're so focused on trying to get your arms untangled from the sleeves that you don't care.

You're in your bindings, and the material is damp, sticking to your skin. You fumble with the fabric, tugging at the straps. It takes a few attempts, but finally, it loosens, and you exhale in relief. It slides down your shoulders, revealing your breasts, and you drop it onto the floor. You shiver, the cold air hitting your skin, and your nipples harden.

You look up at Crosshair, and he's frozen, his gaze glued to your exposed skin. He's staring at the scar above your heart, the one that he gave you, the one that should have killed you. His expression is hard to read, but his hands are trembling, and his breathing is shallow.

The silence is suffocating, and you have the sudden urge to cover yourself. He swallows, his throat bobbing, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. His gaze sweeps over you, and his fingers flex.

"You said you wouldn't look," you remind him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Crosshair blinks, as though coming out of a daze.

"Sorry, I..." he trails off, his voice thick. "You're—" He clears his throat. "Your pants."

"Oh, right." Your hands move to unbuckle your belt, but they're shaking, and your movements are clumsy. You fumble with the clasp, cursing under your breath.

"Here," he murmurs, and his hands move yours aside. His fingers brush against the skin of your stomach, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Thanks," you manage, and the word comes out as a whisper.

His fingers work quickly despite the tremble of them, undoing the belt and sliding it free. Your pulse is racing, and your mouth is dry, and his touch sends a spark of electricity through you.

He tosses the belt aside, and his fingers find the button of your pants, and he pops it open.

"Up," he orders.

You do as he says, and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your pants. He drags them down, the fabric clinging to your thighs. His movements are slow and deliberate as he pulls the material free from your legs before they join the pile of clothing on the floor.

You sit before him, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, and the chill is still clinging to you, your skin pebbled with goosebumps. Crosshair kneels at your feet, his eyes boring into you as they rake over your exposed skin. His gaze lingers on the scar on your chest, his jaw clenching.

"It's not a big deal," you say, trying to reassure him.

"It is."

"What happened wasn't your fault."

He looks up at you, his eyes burning with a strange intensity. "Yes, it was," he says, his voice low and raspy. You reach for him, but he pulls away, your movements too slow and sluggish to catch him.

"I'm going to change," he mutters. "Try not to pass out."

"I'm fine," you protest.

"Your lips are blue," he says. "And your hands are shaking."

He reaches for your wrist, his grip gentle, and he lifts your hand, holding it up for inspection. You glance down, and sure enough, your fingers are trembling.

"F-fine, maybe I'm a little cold," you mumble.

"You're not cold. You're hypothermic." He lets go of your hand and stands, setting his rifle against the wall.

"It's just—"

"Hush."

You huff, rolling your eyes, and you fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself in an attempt to get warm. You watch quietly as he begins to take off his armor, the motions practiced and methodical, though more rushed than you’ve ever seen it.

The first piece comes off, followed by another, and another. He doesn't stop until he's standing before you in his blacks, and then he lifts his shirt over his head. The sight takes your breath away. He's muscular, lean and strong, and the desire to reach out and touch him is overwhelming. The only thing you can do is stare, and it takes all of your self-control not to gape at him like an idiot.

He slips past you, and the bed shifts beneath his weight. You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and he's lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head. He's looking up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling evenly. Crosshair glances over at you, his brow furrowing.

"Lay down," he says, patting the mattress.

You hesitate. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Lay down," he repeats, his tone firm.

You obey, shifting onto the bed, and the mattress is warm, the sensation almost painful against your skin. He grabs a blanket from the end of the bed and wraps it around you, tucking it in. You curl up, the exhaustion is making your eyes heavy. 

The bed is small, and you're close, too close. But it's warm, and he's warm, and it feels so good you want to cry. Still, you can't seem to relax, your limbs stiff. Your skin prickles, and your muscles are tense.

"I can move—"

"Stop talking," he growls. "Go to sleep."

"You're bossy."

"And you're a brat," he grumbles, and his hands slide over your bare skin, tugging the blanket tighter around you.

You smile, the words bringing a strange comfort. He moves closer, his body pressed against yours. You're acutely aware of him, the sound of his breathing, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You shift so your back is flush with his chest. He hesitates, frozen, and then slowly his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him. 

You sigh, the warmth from his skin seeping into yours, and you melt into his embrace. His breath fans against the back of your neck, and you can't remember the last time you were held like this. A strange feeling builds in your chest, one you can't name, but it's overwhelming. The pain of losing your Master is still fresh, but the grief is lessened somehow.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs.

"Yes."

Crosshair curls tighter around you, his arms like a vise. You're surrounded by him, the smell of blaster oil, the sound of his breathing, the heat of his skin. The exhaustion is taking its toll, the warmth of his body too soothing to resist. Your eyes flutter closed, and you let the darkness take you, his heartbeat lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

You wake to the feeling of an arm draped over you, and a body pressed against yours. You blink, and the events of the last two days come rushing back. You're practically naked, and Crosshair's body is pressed against yours, nearly every inch of available skin touching. His chest is flush against your back, and his legs are tangled with yours.

His arm is wrapped around your waist, his fingers splayed against the softness of your stomach, and his breath is warm against the back of your neck. Your heart skips a beat as his fingers twitch against your skin. A rush of warmth floods you, and you swallow, your cheeks flushing.

For a moment, you can't remember how you got here, and what led to this. Then, you remember. You remember the way Crosshair helped you, the way he comforted you, the way he took care of you. And now, you're lying in his bed, and he's holding you, and it feels...nice. 

You should get up, and the thought crosses your mind, but it's not the one you focus on. Instead, you find yourself leaning into him, enjoying the warmth of his skin, and the way his body fits against yours.

Crosshair's arm tightens around you, and he lets out a sleepy groan, pulling you closer. He nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing the sensitive skin. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, not daring to move.

"Hey," he rasps, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you whisper back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better."

And it's the truth. You're still tired, and your muscles are sore, but you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You're not sure if it's the fact that you were able to finally get the closure you needed or if it's because of the man holding you, but you're grateful for the relief.

You shift, and Crosshair's hand rests on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. He presses against you, his chest molding against your back.

"Don't," he mumbles.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go," he says, and there's an uncharacteristic note of pleading in his voice.

You roll over to face him, and his eyes are half-lidded, his gaze heavy. He's still wrapped around you, his arm snaked around your waist. His cheeks are flushed, and his jaw is stubbled, and he's even more handsome than you remember. Your stomach flutters, and your pulse quickens.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper.

He moves his hand to your face, cupping your cheek, and the gesture is so tender, so unexpected. He runs his thumb over your skin, his eyes locked with yours. You can feel his breath, hot and quick against your lips.

"Good," he breathes.

You're not sure who moves first, but his lips are on yours, his kiss urgent, demanding. Your body responds instinctively, and you melt into him, letting him consume you.

Crosshair's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour. He's rough, and he's hungry, and the way he kisses you makes you weak in the knees. You arch into him, and his kiss grows more heated, more desperate. You part your lips, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Your hands hold tight to the back of his head, pulling him closer, and he moans against your lips, his fingers digging into your skin. The sound is needy, and it sends a rush of heat through you, a shiver running down your spine. You break away, panting, and he chases your mouth, his lips ghosting over yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Crosshair murmurs.

You laugh, the sound breathless, light and airy. "I can tell."

He huffs and rolls his eyes. "Shut up," he mutters, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Make me," you tease.

He's on top of you in a heartbeat, and his body is a delicious weight on top of yours. His hands are on either side of your head, caging you in with a mischievous smirk on his lips. You can't help but smile back.

"You want to be like that, huh?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.

You smile sweetly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He nips at your neck, his teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan.

"What were you saying?" he says, his voice husky.

"Just that—" He bites down on your neck, and you let out a gasp, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

He kisses the spot he bit, his lips soft and tender, and his hands roam over your body. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone, his touch leaving a burning trail in its wake.

It's overwhelming, his scent, his heat, his presence. Your senses are filled with him, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling. His lips are on your skin, his teeth scraping gently, and his hands are everywhere, exploring, mapping, memorizing. You don’t want it to stop, but it's starting to feel like too much, too fast.

"Cross," you murmur. He doesn’t respond, his lips dragging across your skin, and you try again, your voice tight. “Crosshair.”

He freezes, and his head snaps up. He looks at you, his dark eyes wide and worried. "What's wrong?"

"What are we doing?" you ask.

He frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

"That's not what I mean."

Crosshair pulls away, and you feel a pang in your chest as you see the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes.

"Do you want to stop?" he asks quietly.

"No, I..." Your voice trails off, and the words seem stuck in your throat. "I just... I'm not sure where this is going."

He sighs. "I don't know either."

"It's not that I don't want this," you say quickly. "I just..."

"What?"

You take a deep breath. It's a risk, admitting the feelings you've kept hidden for so long. But the desire is overwhelming, and the fear is stronger.

"Earlier, out there...I said a lot of things, some of them I didn’t mean," you begin. "I don’t want to hate you, and I don’t want you to have to work for my forgiveness. You already have it.” 

You push yourself up so you're sitting, and he does the same. You both sit with your backs against the wall, the blanket pooling at your hips. He's quiet, watching you, his expression unreadable. His silence gives you courage, and you continue.

“What I want is a fresh start. What happened yesterday, it was a turning point. For both of us. I don't want to hold onto the past. I'm sick of all the anger and resentment."

"You deserve to be angry," he says quietly. "After everything I've done, you have every right."

"I am," you admit, and the words come out with a hint of a bitter laugh. “But I’m also so happy to have you back, Crosshair. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. It's not worth it, carrying the anger around. I care about you too much for that.”

He shakes his head, and his gaze drops. "I don't deserve you," he whispers. "I've done terrible things. You know that."

"It's in the past," you say, reaching out to cup his face. His stubble is rough under your fingertips, and his jaw is clenched hard underneath your hand. "You can't change it."

"I know." He sighs. The weight of the galaxy seems to settle on his shoulders, and to see it holding him down makes your chest hurt. 

"I forgive you," you say, and the words are easier than you expected. "We all have. Maybe it’s time you forgive yourself too.”

Crosshair's gaze snaps up, his eyes locking with yours. There's a flash of something, and you see the way his lips tremble. His throat bobs, and he swallows. "You really mean that, don't you?"

You nod. "I do."

"How?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

You shrug. How can you explain it, the way your heart aches when he looks at you, the way his touch sets your skin on fire? How can you explain the way he makes you feel, the way you crave his attention, his approval? How can you explain the way your world feels whole again now that he's by your side?

The words don't come, and instead, you rub your thumb across his cheekbone. His breath catches, and he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. When he opens his eyes, they're glassy, and there's a sheen of tears. You brush them away, your touch gentle, and he exhales.

You can't help but lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, and he leans into you, his hand finding your waist. The kiss is soft and sweet, the kind that takes your breath away, and when you pull away, you're left wanting more.

“I’m sorry I left you behind," he whispers, his voice breaking. "I should've stayed. I should've protected you."

"Cross, I left you behind. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." You take a deep breath. "I'm the one who abandoned you."

"I don't blame you for what happened." He shakes his head, and his jaw clenches, the muscle in his cheek twitching. He swallows hard, the sound is audible in your closeness.

You run your thumb over his cheek, and he closes his eyes, his body trembling under your touch. You pull him closer, and his head comes to rest on your shoulder. He's tense, and you can feel the way he's holding back, keeping himself from falling apart.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and the weight of it is suffocating. You've spent so long being angry, blaming him, that you never stopped to think about how he was dealing with his own feelings. How much pain has he carried since that day? How much guilt? You abandoned him, and he was alone, and there's a chance he could've been killed, and...

It's a lot. And the realization of it hits you all at once, your throat tightening, your vision blurring with tears. You've been so caught up in your own pain, in your own grief, that you didn't even stop to consider his. And the thought, the shame of it, is crushing.

Crosshair clings to you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You can’t tell if you’re trembling, or if he is, or maybe it's both of you. The emotions are overwhelming, and you don't know what to do, how to comfort him, how to make it right.

All you can do is hold him, so you do. You wrap your arms around him, holding him as close as possible. You rest your head against his, your cheek pressed against his temple as small tremors rack his body.

You don't say anything. You can't find the words, can't bring yourself to speak. So you stay there, holding him, giving him the time he needs.

It feels like hours before he speaks. His voice is quiet, barely a whisper.

"I should have been there," Crosshair says, and his voice cracks.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. "I should have come back for you.”

He pulls away, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. There's a look on his face, a mixture of guilt and shame and regret. He shakes his head, and his fingers find your jaw, his touch feather-light. His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping away your tears.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. You close your eyes, and you can feel his breath on your lips, your noses brushing.

You've missed this. The closeness, the intimacy. You've missed him.

Crosshair pulls you closer, and his lips ghost over yours, his movements hesitant, uncertain.

You've spent the last few weeks trying to bury these feelings, trying to pretend like they weren't there, and now, they're bubbling to the surface, and you can't fight them.

You don't want to.

You give in, kissing him, and his body reacts instantly. He's pressing against you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his grip almost bruising.

You let him pull you closer until your bodies are flush together. He's warm and solid, and his mouth is hot and insistent, his tongue teasing yours.

His hands are in your hair, his fingers tangled in the strands, and the kiss grows more heated, more urgent. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you moan into his mouth. 

As soon as the kiss starts, it stops, and he leaves you breathless as he pulls away, gasping for air. You can't stop staring at him, the way his eyes are dark with desire, the way his pupils are blown wide.

He leans forward, his lips hovering over yours, and his voice is low, barely a whisper. “I don't deserve you."

You huff, barely stopping yourself from rolling your eyes. You're tired of hearing those words come from his mouth, and you can't stop the irritation from rising in you.

Crosshair's grip on you tightens, and his eyes are pleading. He's searching for an answer, for some sort of reassurance, and you realize it's the first time you've seen him like this, so unsure of himself. 

Your irritation fades, and your anger melts away, and all you're left with is a deep ache, a longing for the man who holds your heart.

You reach up, cupping his cheek, and your voice is soft, reassuring. "Yes, you do."

His expression is one of disbelief, as though he can't comprehend the idea that you would forgive him, that you would love him, that you would want him. He's always been the one to push people away, to keep his distance, and the fact that he's letting himself open up to you is a huge step. It's one you're grateful for, and you're determined to not take it for granted.

“You do, Cross," you murmur. "You deserve to be happy."

He closes his eyes, his brow furrowed. You watch him, and you can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind.

His voice is hoarse when he speaks, the words barely audible, “I don't want to hurt you again."

You smile sadly up at him. You understand the sentiment. The last year has been a constant battle, a constant struggle. It's a cycle, a vicious one, and you're tired of fighting.

The two of you have both made mistakes, and you're both haunted by them. You're both guilty, and you're both paying the price. But you're here now, together, and maybe that's all that matters.

You can't help but laugh, and it releases some of the pressure that's been building in your chest. 

Crosshair's eyes snap open, and you shake your head to quell his concern, the laughter dying on your lips.

“We've spent the last year hurting each other, Crosshair. And for what? Why can't we just let go of the past, and move on?"

He hesitates, and you can see the doubt in his eyes, the fear. But you can also see the hope, the desire. He wants to move on, and he wants to be happy, and he wants it with you. The realization is a relief, and the weight on your chest is gone, the tension easing. You grin up at him, and his lips twitch, a small smile tugging at the corners.

“I think we've both suffered enough, don't you?" you murmur.

His lips part, as if he's about to say something, but the words don't come. You wait, watching him, and you can see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes. 

Finally, he speaks, his voice is tentative and low. “Okay.”

"Okay," you say, and you lean forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away, and his gaze meets yours. He's still holding you, his grip tight, as though he's afraid you'll disappear, but the hand on your cheek is gentle.

Crosshair’s fingers run up through your hair, and his thumb brushes against your skin. He lets out a deep breath, his lips inches from yours. He's looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his gaze filled with wonder.

"What?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He shakes his head. "I'm just... I don't know how I got so lucky."

Your heart swells as much as it hurts. You’ll help him understand in time, help him see himself the way you do. But for now, you can’t help the teasing grin from forming.

"You're a real sap, you know that?"

He huffs, the sound a mix of a groan and a chuckle. "And you’re a brat.”

"Yeah," you say, a smile tugging at your lips before you press a kiss to his nose. "But you love it."

Crosshair hesitates for a moment, stiffening slightly. He clears his throat, and your heart skips a beat.

You can't tell if you've made a mistake, if you've crossed a line, but the words are out there now, and there's no taking them back. You search his expression, looking for a sign, any hint of what he's thinking.

He swallows hard, and his eyes dart away, his cheeks tinged pink.

"Yeah," he murmurs at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "I do." 

He turns back to look at you and catches sight of the bright grin on your face, and his flush deepens.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, and then he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss. 

You respond eagerly, and his hands slide up your body, caressing your skin. He's gentle, his touch almost reverent, and his movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's trying to commit the feel of your body to memory.

You run your fingers over his head, tugging him closer as you lie back against the pillow, and the action spurs him on. His hands explore every inch of your body, and his touch leaves a burning trail in its wake.

Crosshair breaks the kiss, his lips ghosting over your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck. His fingers trace the swell of your breasts, his touch light enough to send shivers down your spine. He brushes his thumb over your nipple, and you let out a gasp, your body arching into him.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs against your neck.

"Yes," you breathe, your voice thick with desire.

He takes a nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and his teeth graze the skin. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you let out a quiet moan. 

His fingers pinch your other nipple, teasing the sensitive flesh. Your hands grasp his shoulders, and his muscles are firm beneath your touch, his body taut with desire. You drag your nails down his back, and he groans, the sound sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

His hand moves lower, his fingers tracing a path down your abdomen, and he cups your mound, his touch gentle. He strokes your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear, his movements slow and deliberate. Your body responds instinctively, your hips bucking into his touch, pressing eagerly into his palm.

"Fuck," he growls as he feels how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear.

"Please," you whimper.

"Patience," he says, his voice thick.

His fingers slip inside underneath the waistband, and he dips a finger between your folds, teasing your entrance. You moan, your hips jerking as he ghosts over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Please," you beg, your voice needy.

"Not yet," he murmurs.

"Why not?"

"Because I want to take my time," he says, a low growl that makes your stomach clench.

He continues his torture, and your breath catches in your throat as his fingers find your wetness, sliding up and down the length of your folds. He gently curls his fingers, watching you closely while rubbing his index pad against your entrance.

You shudder, and he presses his finger inside of you, the digit slick with your arousal. You whimper, and his free hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place.

"I'll give you what you want," he promises, his voice husky, "but first, I want to enjoy this."

"Cross," you whimper, your voice breaking.

He hushes you, and you whine. His movements are unhurried, and his thumb traces lazy circles over your clit, his touch agonizingly slow. Your breathing grows ragged, and your body is coiled tight, and the feeling is both sweet and frustrating.

You squirm, trying to increase the pressure, and he stops his movements, pulling his finger from you.

"Behave," he orders.

"I don't want to," you protest, your tone petulant.

He lets out a growl, and he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down. You help him remove the garment, and it joins the pile of clothing on the floor before he sits back on his heels, taking in the sight of you.

"Spread your legs," he commands.

You do as he says, and he leans forward, his breath hot against your skin. He dips his head between your thighs, and his tongue flicks out, teasing your folds. You gasp as he licks a stripe up your wetness, his tongue exploring every inch of your sex.

He finds your clit, and his lips close around the sensitive bud, sucking and licking the small bundle of nerves. Your body writhes, and your fingers hold tight to his head, pulling him closer. His finger teases your entrance, and your breath hitches.

"Please," you whimper.

"What do you want?" he says, his voice rough.

"I want you, Cross. Please.”

He groans, and his finger enters you again, his touch firm. He crooks his finger, and he rubs the sensitive spot inside of you, his tongue lapping at your clit. The tension inside of you is building quickly, and you're teetering on the edge, the pleasure almost overwhelming.

"I'm close," you breathe.

He adds a second finger, and you can feel the tremor in his hand, the strain of his muscles. He continues his assault, and your body trembles, your orgasm fast approaching. You grasp the sheets, and your body tenses, your back arching.

"Cross!" you cry out, and you come undone, the pleasure washing over you. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he groans, the sound vibrating against your clit. He continues his ministrations, his tongue and fingers drawing out your release until you're spent, and you collapse on the mattress, breathless.

You both moan as his fingers withdraw, and he sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

"That was..." you start, but the words die on your lips.

"Yeah," he agrees.

You reach up, cupping his face. He's flushed, his breathing labored, and his pupils are blown wide. The arm he’s using to hold himself up trembles at the effort.

"You're shaking," you say.

He lets out a soft chuckle. "So are you."

Crosshair shifts his weight, resting his elbow on the bed, and the movement brings his body closer. His eyes search yours, and the intensity of his gaze is almost too much.

"What are we doing?" he asks, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"I don't know," you say, your thumb brushing over his skin. "But I don't want it to stop."

"Neither do I."

He leans in, and his lips capture yours, his kiss hungry, desperate. You taste yourself on his tongue, and his hand roams over your body, touching and teasing every inch of your skin. You touch him back, exploring the hard planes of his muscles, and his body shudders beneath your fingertips.

He breaks the kiss, and his forehead rests against yours, his breathing heavy. 

"Fuck," he breathes.

"What is it?"

"I can't—" He takes a deep breath. "I can't stop thinking about all the time we wasted."

You swallow hard, and your chest aches. He's right. The last year has been hell, and the two of you have wasted so much time.

"We'll make up for it," you promise.

"I want to," he murmurs. "I need you."

His words send a thrill through you. He needs you. He wants you. You’ve waited so long to hear him say it.

"I need you too," you admit. You push yourself up and roll over, so you're on top of him, straddling his lap. You rock your hips, grinding against him, and his erection is hard and straining beneath his blacks.

He huffs a laugh as his hands come up to hold your hips. "I've wanted you for so long. I've wanted this."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You've wanted him too. And now that he's here, he's real, and he's in front of you, the feelings are almost too overwhelming.

"You have me," you whisper around the lump in your throat.

He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. His lips are inches from yours, his eyes locked with yours. "Promise me."

"I promise." Your hand trails down to grab his, locking your little fingers together. You hold your hands up so he can see them, your mouth lifting up into a soft smile. "I pinky promise."

He snorts softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "That's a pretty serious promise."

"It's the most serious one I can make," you say solemnly.

He laughs. The sound is warm and genuine, and it lights up his entire face. Your chest aches, and it's almost too much, the way his expression changes, the way his features soften.

You're tired of holding back. Tired of being scared. You've wasted too much time already.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands slide up your back, and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. You melt into him, letting him consume you.

The kiss is intense and desperate. You pour everything you have into it, everything you've been holding back. Your body responds, and you press against him, your hips grinding against his erection. He groans, his body arching into yours, and the sound sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

He pulls away, his breathing ragged, and his eyes are dark with desire. His hands grip your hips, and he rolls over, pinning you beneath him. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he grinds against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his blacks.

He reaches between you, his fingers finding your clit. You gasp as he circles the bundle of nerves. He's not gentle. His movements are quick and rough. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, and you buck against his hand, desperate for more.

His other hand grasps your wrist, and he pins it above your head. His grip is bruising. He continues his assault on your clit, his movements relentless.

"Come for me," he growls.

You can't hold back the moan that escapes your lips. Your body is on fire. Every nerve is alight with pleasure. The pressure builds within you, the tension coiling in your stomach. You're on the edge, teetering, and you can feel the release coming.

“Please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

His hand leaves your wrist, and he grabs the waistband of his blacks. He pushes them down, and his erection springs free. You can't help but stare at him, at the way his body moves, the muscles rippling under his skin. His cock is hard and straining, bobbing against his stomach as he turns to kick his blacks away.

Then he’s back on top of you, your skin flush against his. He's hot and heavy against you, his body a welcome weight, and his length presses against your stomach. He grinds his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your folds.

The sensation is too much. The feeling is too good. You're on the edge again, the pressure building.

His fingers tease your folds, and he finds the wetness pooled at your entrance. He gathers the liquid on his digits, his touch featherlight, and you whimper. He pulls away, and his hand wraps around the base of his cock. He slowly pumps his length a few times, coating it with your wetness. You can’t help but watch, your mouth parting slightly.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yes," you breathe.

He positions the head of his cock at your entrance. He's not gentle, and you don’t want him to be. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing into you. Your walls stretch to accommodate his length, and he groans, his body shuddering.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, and when he bottoms out, his pelvis grinding against your clit, you cry out, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. His hand comes up to cradle your head.

"I'm going to move," he murmurs.

"Yes," you breathe, unable to hide the relief in your voice.

He pulls out and thrusts back in. The slow drag of his cock is maddening, stoking the fire that he’d ignited. His movements are deliberate and steady, each one calculated and controlled. It’s almost too much. You want him to let go, to lose control, to ravage you.

"Harder," you beg.

"No."

You huff, frustration rising in you.

"Please."

He lifts his head to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, the black nearly eclipsing the honey-brown, and his expression is one of determination, his jaw clenched. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"I don't want to rush this," he murmurs. "I want to enjoy it."

His words are sweet and earnest, but the effect is lost in the desperation, in the need. You can't help but groan in frustration.

"I need you," you plead. "I need all of you."

His lips twitch into a smirk. "Be patient."

"You're such a tease," you complain.

"And you're impatient."

He leans forward and kisses you. His mouth is hot and insistent against yours. His tongue swipes across your lips, seeking entrance, and you grant it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and your arms wind around his shoulders.

His hand moves down to your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You moan, and the sound is swallowed by his kiss. His movements are slow and deliberate, his touch gentle. He's taking his time, and you're not sure if you love him or hate him for it.

You break the kiss, gasping for air, and his lips move down, trailing kisses across your jaw, your neck. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, nipping at the flesh, and you cry out, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

His movements speed up, and the fire inside of you burns hotter, the pressure building. His fingers continue their ministrations, his pace unrelenting.

"Cross," you moan. "I'm so close."

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. "I know."

His mouth finds yours again. His tongue teases yours as his fingers continue their assault. Your body tenses, the release almost within reach.

When his fingers pinch your clit, your orgasm rips through you. Your walls clench around his cock, and you cry out as the pleasure floods your veins. Your body shakes with the intensity of the orgasm. It's a wave that washes over you. It's pure ecstasy.

His cock is still buried deep inside you. He’s slowed his thrusts to a gentle rocking motion, the movements soothing, allowing you to ride out your high.

When you come down, the aftershocks still coursing through you, his hips speed up. You’re so sensitive, it’s almost too much, but he feels so good, filling you, stretching you. You can't help but moan.

"Fuck," he groans. “You’re so tight.”

You can tell he's close. His thrusts are faster and deeper. He's chasing his own release. You tighten around him, trying to push him over the edge. His eyes fly open, his gaze meeting yours.

"I want you to come," you whisper.

"Not yet."

"Please."

"I'm not finished with you," he says, his voice rough.

He pulls out, and the sudden emptiness is almost painful. His fingers thrust back into you, and the pleasure is sharp and intense, the pressure building.

He fucks you with his fingers, his movements rough and quick. You moan and writhe beneath him, the sensation almost overwhelming. Your walls are still sensitive from your orgasm, and the feeling is almost too much.

"I can't," you whimper. "I'm so sensitive."

"Shhh," he hushes.

Crosshair curls his fingers, finding that spot that makes you see stars, and you can't stop the scream that escapes your lips. The tension coils in your stomach. You're on the edge again. Your body is shaking.

You nearly scream as his fingers leave you, your walls clenching around nothing. He leans down and captures your mouth with his, muffling your cry. His kiss is bruising, his tongue demanding. His lips trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, and the sensation is overwhelming, the pain mixing with the pleasure.

His hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, teasing. Your body is on fire, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

His hand slides down to cup your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. You cry out, and he uses his grip to lift you. Your legs wrap around his waist automatically. His other hand moves to his length, pumping it a few times, coating it with your wetness.

He pulls his lips away, his breathing labored, and he looks at you, his gaze filled with hunger and longing.

"Ready?"

"Yes," you whisper.

His grip on your ass tightens, and he pulls you closer. His cock teases your folds, sliding between them, and the sensation is agonizing. You whimper, the need for him growing, the need for release.

"Please," you beg.

He pushes into you, the head of his cock stretching your entrance. He feels thicker than before, his length harder. Your walls are still sensitive, but the feeling is too good. You want more. You need more.

He groans, and the sound is raw and primal. His hips buck, and his cock fills you completely, his length buried to the hilt. The pace he sets is punishing, the feeling intense.

"Cross," you gasp.

"You're so tight," he groans. "So perfect."

"You feel so good," you moan. "Fuck."

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, and his other hand wraps around the back of your neck. His grip is bruising, but you don't care. You like the way his hands feel on your skin.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is sloppy and messy. He's lost in his own pleasure, his movements rough and uncoordinated. You can't get enough, and you moan into his mouth as he finds the right spot.

"I'm close," he rasps.

“Me too,” you manage.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and you cling to him as he brings you both closer and closer to the edge. Your walls flutter around him, the tension in your stomach tightening. His movements become erratic, and his body tenses. You know he's close. You can feel the tremors running through him.

"Fuck," he groans. "I'm—“

“Inside me," you moan. "Please."

The words are barely out of your mouth when he stills, his cock pulsing inside you. You can feel the hot spurts of his release filling you. The sensation is overwhelming, and you scream his name.

Your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you clench around him, your walls milking him. Your body shakes with the force of the pleasure, and your ears ring.

When the aftershocks finally subside, he collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged. You can feel his heart racing. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close. You never want to let him go.

You're still trying to make sense of what just happened when Crosshair's hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers tracing slow circles. The sensation brings you back to reality, and you open your eyes to find him staring at you, his expression filled with concern.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," you say, your voice hoarse. "That was..."

"Intense," he finishes, and he flashes you a crooked smile.

You laugh softly. "That's one word for it."

His smile fades, and he shifts his weight, pulling away from you. He slips out of you, and you can't help the soft whine that escapes your lips. You can already feel the soreness setting in.

He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. "I'll be right back."

He slides off the bed and disappears into the fresher. You roll onto your side and press your thighs together, the action doing more to soothe the ache than you'd expected. When Crosshair returns, he has a warm, wet washcloth in hand, and you can't help but smile.

"Thanks," you murmur, reaching out to take the cloth from him. He pulls his hand away.

"Let me," he says softly.

Your breath catches in your throat. He climbs back on the bed and gently pushes your legs apart. His movements are careful as he wipes the cloth over your sex. He's gentle and thorough. You can't help but feel like his touch is more intimate than anything else the two of you have done tonight.

When he's satisfied, he tosses the cloth aside. He lays down next to you, his head propped up on his hand, and his eyes are soft, filled with affection.

"Hi," you say shyly.

"Hey," he murmurs. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

Your heart swells. You can't believe this is happening. It all feels like a dream. You never thought he'd ever be like this with you. You never thought you'd have the chance to be with him again.

You feel tears start to prick the corner of your eyes, but you blink them away, choosing instead to reach out and trace the contours of his face with your fingers. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, his expression relaxed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice soft.

"Admiring you," you murmur. You can’t keep the affection out of your tone, and you don’t try.

Crosshair snorts, and if you weren't so close, you wouldn't have noticed the hint of redness that spreads across his cheeks. You shake your head and chuckle at the sight. He's adorable.

"You just fucked me so hard I can’t feel my legs, and now you're embarrassed by a little compliment?" you tease.

His eyes open, and he gives you a look. "I hate you," he grumbles.

You grin. "No, you don't."

"You're right," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I don't."

Crosshair pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you press your body against his, enjoying the closeness. Your hands roam over his skin, your fingers tracing the scars that litter his body. You can't help but wonder how he got each and every one of them.

His hand comes up to hold yours, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"For what?"

"For letting me in. And for forgiving me.”

You swallow hard. His words are so simple, but they mean so much. You know it hasn't been easy for him. You know he's been struggling. You've seen the guilt and the pain. And despite all of that, he's here.

You lean in and press a kiss to his chest. "I'm so proud of you."

"I'm not—"

"I am," you say firmly.

He swallows hard and nods. It’s obvious the words are difficult for him to hear, and you can’t help but wonder the last time someone told him those words. If they ever did.

You reach up and brush your thumb against his cheek. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?"

His lips part, and his eyes search yours. He looks overwhelmed, his emotions written plainly on his face.

"I'm starting to," he murmurs. "But I—"

"I love you," you blurt out. "And not just because of this. I've loved you for so long. And I've wanted this for so long."

He blinks at you, his eyes widening slightly. Your heart leaps to your throat.

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly. "Too much?"

He shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath. "No," he says softly. "It's not."

"Oh," you say.

He leans forward and kisses you, his lips soft and gentle. Your body relaxes, the tension seeping out of you. His hand slides up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours.

"I love you too," Crosshair whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "So much."

He takes a deep breath and leans back against the pillow, his eyes fixed on the bottom of the bunk above you. "I…had a lot of time to think about things while I was…away. And I realized a lot of things. About myself. About us. I realized that I didn't know what I had until it was gone."

You watch him. His jaw is tense. His brow is furrowed. He's still struggling with his emotions.

"Cross," you murmur.

"I'm not good with words," he admits.

"It's okay," you say.

He takes a deep breath. "I missed you," he says. "I missed everything about you. And I regretted so many things. I thought about what we could have had if I had let myself have it. And I... I don't want to waste any more time."

You can't help the tears that roll down your cheeks. He's so sincere, and his words are so heartfelt. It's overwhelming. You lean in and kiss him, pouring every bit of emotion into the kiss. You want him to know just how much you care. How much he means to you.

"I'm glad we didn't waste any more time," you say.

"Me too.” He clears his throat, his gaze searching yours.  “I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," you say slowly, hesitantly.

Crosshair shifts underneath you, and you prop yourself up on your elbow, watching him curiously. He sits up, and his hand comes up to cradle your face, his touch gentle. "I'm... not really sure how to do this."

You feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and your heartbeat quickens. "Just ask.”

"I was wondering," he says, his voice soft. "If you wanted to make this, us, official."

He takes a deep breath, and you can feel his nerves, his anxiety. You stare at him, stunned to silence. You're not sure how to respond. You hadn't expected this, not yet at least. Maybe not ever. You never really allowed yourself to hope.

"I know it's complicated, and I know it's going to be hard. But I—"

"Yes," you interrupt, and his eyes snap to yours.

He blinks at you. "What?"

"Yes," you say again. "I would love that."

"Really?"

You laugh softly. "Did you think I'd say no?"

You can't keep the amusement out of your tone. His nervousness is so endearing. You never thought you'd get to see him like this.

"No, I just…huh,” he breathes. His brow furrows, his expression thoughtful.

"What?"

"I wasn't expecting you to agree so quickly.” Crosshair smirks, his gaze meeting yours. "I was ready to make a case. Give you some time to think it over."

His hand moves from your face to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, and his eyebrows lift. "You must really like me."

“Shut up.” You huff and roll your eyes. "I love you, you asshole.”

"I love you too," he says, his voice is warm, and his words are sincere. You lean in and kiss him, your hands moving to his shoulders, pulling him close. You can't get enough of him. You're not sure if you ever will.

When you finally break apart, he lets out a contented sigh and pulls you back down, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, and his expression softens.

"I can't promise you much, but I can promise you that I'll always be there for you. No matter what happens. Even if things go to shit, even if we get separated. Even if...”

He swallows and looks away, his expression darkening. You know what he's thinking, what he's trying not to say.

"Cross," you murmur. "I'm not going anywhere." You cup his face, your gaze meeting his. "And neither are you."

He nods, and his mouth lifts up into a soft smile. "I'm not letting you go. Ever."

"That's a lot of promises," you tease.

He huffs. "Yeah, well, I'm full of them lately."

You press another kiss to his lips, and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. He pulls you closer, his grip tightening. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a deep, contented sigh. “Now let’s go back to sleep. You wore me out."

You chuckle and close your eyes, nestling your head against Crosshair's chest. The sound of his heartbeat is soothing, and the steady rise and fall of his chest is calming. 

You never imagined this would happen, but here you are, wrapped up in his arms. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels right.

You feel safe, and you feel loved. And as sleep pulls you under, you realize that this is exactly where you belong. You're home.

Taglist: @covert1ntrovert @bruh-myguy-what @baddest-batchers @spicy-clones @qvnthesia

@arctrooper69 @heidnspeak @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @cw80831

@lovelytech9902 @etod @lordofthenerds97 @umekohiganbana @chocolatewastelandtriumph

@frozenreptile @somewhere-on-kamino @lightwise @dontyoufeelitangel @hobbititties

@studio--celeste @winchesters-girl @tentakelspektakel @aynavaano @tech-aficionado

@dindjarins1ut @resistantecho

[captainfern]

HEY!! I saw that your requests are open, I have a filthy idea🤭 *rubs hands together smiling smugly*

You and price went out on a mission together, you ended it quickly and safe, but the evac will only arrive in the morning. so you search for a safe house and you settle down for the night. there's nothing to do so you suggest a sparring session to practice. you start, and after a while he gets you in a chokehold, you squirm and try to free yourself but he doesn't let go. suddenly he release the grip on you. then you turn around and you see why he let get rid of his arms. in practice he got excited and he could not resist more. after a moment of realization and serious eye contacts, you ask him if he need some help. he gets the best head he ever received in his life

Milk It

Captain John Price x fem!reader

["Milk It" by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - what the ask says. you give price head lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 2.5k • warnings - fem!reader, oral [m!receiving], praise, implied age gap, price is a bit whiney in this ngl, strong language

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You were panting and slick with sweat by the time you reconvened with Price. He was hunkering down amongst the ruins of a blown-up house, shouting into his comms over the distant rumble of explosives.

You sank down beside him, back to the stone wall and knee brushing against his. You tried to calm your breathing as beside you, Price wrapped up the conversation and flicked his comms off. He turned to you, resting a hand across one of your knees.

"Evac can only make it into the area at six tomorrow morning, n' that's the earliest," Price said, patting your knee. "We'll find a safe-house a few miles from here and camp out. Sound good?"

You nodded as he retracted his hand from you, gripping his gun as he got to his feet. He offered you his hand and you took it, allowing him to hoist you off the ground. You grabbed a hold of your gun as well and, ducking to avoid any stray enemy fire, you and Price departed from the crumbling stone walls of the old house.

An hour or so later, the two of you stumbled into a small cottage. It was cozy, with a cramped kitchen but a cute, warm living area. There were two other doors, with one leading into a particularly small bathroom and the other leading into the only bedroom of the safe-house.

But you were too tired to do any complaining.

Gratefully, you dumped your bag and assault rifle by the door, crossing the hardwood floor and falling face-first onto the plush couch. You groaned in contempt as you finally rested your aching bones. Price huffed a laugh at you as he closed and locked the door.

"And you call me the old man?" Price stated, also placing his pack and gun beside the door. "You're the one with aching bones, kid."

You groaned at him, voice muffled against the couch cushions. Since he had no idea what you said, you simply stretched out an arm and flipped him off. He just laughed at you.

"We've got a bit of time to kill," Price said, taking off his bulletproof vest. "What're we gonna do, eh?"

You sighed as you sat up, slouching. "Please don't suggest boardgames."

Price laughed again, low in his chest. He stood behind the couch, hands braced against the back as you rolled over and stared up at him.

"I wasn't going to suggest boardgames," Price said. "What about we have a little spar, eh?"

"I'm tired, Price." You grumbled.

"Just a quick session, I promise," He clapped his hands together. "And if you manage to get me to the ground, you can relax as much as you want. Deal?"

You got to your feet, rounding the couch. He stuck his hand out and you fought a smile as you shook it. "Deal," you nodded.

•º•

Twenty minutes later, you and Price were at the back of the cottage in the small, fenced-in garden. It was slightly overgrown, but had a short patch of clover in the middle– soft enough to act as a landing mat for when, as Price joked, he "slammed your tired arse onto the ground."

You replied with a smile and a sweet "fuck off, old man."

Now, though, you and Price circled each other for the fifth time. The first five times, you had been unsuccessful in getting your captain to the floor. The first and second round, you were slammed flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs as Price chuckled above you. The third and forth time, both you and Price tripped each other over, tumbling to the ground, elbowing each other in the ribs in the process. He claimed it didn't count because you technically didn't get him to the ground on purpose.

So, fifth time's the charm, you thought.

Price was panting slightly. "This time, yeah?"

You felt sticky with a thin layer of sweat. "Shut up."

You lunged for him, right arm flying towards his face. He blocked it, while your left fist slammed into his stomach. He grunted, blocking a few more punches you threw at him, before he managed to take hold of both your wrists, throwing you backwards.

You stumbled, but maintained your footing. However, Price was on you in an instant– sweeping your legs from under you, sending you falling. You hit the patch of soft clover, cursing at him loudly. He grinned down at you, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

"Too easy." He remarked.

You scowled, bouncing to your feet. You quite literally launched yourself up and at him– arms winding around his shoulders and pushing him backwards. He let out a shout of surprise as he fell flat on his back. Victorious grin etched on your face, you straddled his midriff and held a pretend knife to his throat. He rolled his eyes.

"Try better." He grumbled, bucking you off him.

"What the–?" You found yourself rolling along the clover as Price crawled after you, pinning you to the ground with one large hand to the top of your chest.

You tried to wriggle free, managing to get onto your hands and knees. You laughed as you crawled away, feeling rather juvenile, before he grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you backwards. You flailed an arm backwards, slapping him across the chest, laughing at his disgruntled facial expression, before the arm that was holding your ankle was suddenly around your neck.

"Jesus–!" You squealed as your body lurched, and you were pinned to Price's body, arse against his lap.

He had you in a fucking headlock.

Literally what the hell.

You squirmed against him, arms prying at the strong muscle of his forearm. Your lower half pressed against him, bumping against his lower torso as you attempted to slip out of his hold.

"Price, oh my god, let me go," you groaned, slapping his arm. "This is so embarrassing. I get it, you won, again."

He didn't reply. You couldn't turn your head to gage his expression, either, still pinned to his side.

"Price?" You voiced, arse backing against his lower abdomen again.

Then, you heard a gruff exhale of breath. Then, a soft, "Bloody hell."

You blinked, breathing laboured. "Um, Price? Can you let me go?"

He released you immediately. You sighed, flopping down onto the soft clover. Then, you picked yourself up, turning to face him.

Your eyes widened. Price was sitting on his knees, hunched over and breathing hard. You were about to ask what was wrong, when you noticed his palm pressed to the front of his cargos. He muttered something indistinct under his breath.

"Oh my god..." You whispered.

He was fucking hard.

A part of you wanted to laugh. But when he met your eyes, his own filled with flashing desire, you couldn't help but bite your lip.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," he grumbled. "I don't... shit, I'm just gonna go–"

He got up and headed for the cottage. Shocked, you quickly followed him. Once inside, you managed to get a hand on his shoulder, and force him to turn around.

"Price," you whispered, running your hands along his broad shoulders. He tensed under your touch. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

He shook his head, cheeks slightly pink and still sheened in a thin layer of sweat. "No, I'm sorry. I've no idea why this is happening."

You allowed yourself to smile at the bashful tone that had overtaken your captain. He was finding it hard to meet your eyes, head bowed slightly as he tried to calm his breathing. His hand was still shielding his crotch from your vision, but you knew.

"Do... do you want me to take care of it?"

He snapped his gaze at you. "Absolutely not. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable–"

"What if I want too?" You said, trying to ignore the way the look on his face was making you insanely horny. "What if I want to help you?"

He groaned. Deep, rich and so fucking hot you could've moaned right then and there. He inclined his head back slightly, hand pressing tighter into the bulge in his pants. Then, he looked at you, eyes hooded. You stared back as confidently as you could.

"You sure?" He whispered.

You licked your lips. "Mhm."

"Oh, fucking hell." He uttered, voice straining with a restricted whine.

You smiled as your hands gently brushed his aside, beginning to unbuckle his belt.

"Where d'you want me?" He whispered, forehead coming to rest against yours. He was warm.

You unbuckled his belt. "Couch."

He obliged: walking backwards until the backs of his knees hit the couch. He sat down, right on the edge, and spread his legs so that you could situate yourself on your knees inbetween.

He groaned at the sight, while you made quick work of unzipping his cargos and shimmying them down his thick thighs. You took a moment to admire the muscle. You wanted to just sink your teeth into them, but you refrained. Later, you thought.

Instead, you turned your attention to his painfully hard cock being restricted by his black boxers. You trailed your fingertips along the imprint, and he let out a low sound, watching you with his mouth slightly open and his eyelids fluttering.

"All because you got me in a headlock, eh, cap?" You mused, trailing your fingers over the waistband and up the line of hair of his happy-trail. "Kinky."

He rumbled something deep in his throat in answer. You smiled sweetly at him, tucking your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down his thighs. Cock free, you tried not to act insane at the way it had your cunt dripping into your own underwear.

Before you got too distracted, you wrapped one hand around the base, shuffling your body closer. Price automatically choked on a gasp, shooting a large hand down to hold the back of your head.

"Bloody hell, love." He moaned.

Your cunt now had a heartbeat. Oh my god–

You pooled saliva in your mouth, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tip, working your hand around the base of him. As he released a deep groan, you let your saliva drool from between your lips and onto his cock. You quickly followed the action, enveloping the tip with your lips.

He bucked his hips, a muted whine dislodging from his throat. “Fucking hell, love.”

You hummed at him, working the saliva around his cock with your lips and tongue, slowly lowering your mouth. You continued to work the base of his cock with your hand, movements slick with your spit.

The hand he had on the back of your head was a firm but gentle pressure. He didn't force you onto him, simply guiding you up and down, his hips jolting upwards periodically, chasing the heat of your mouth.

You traced a prominent vein on the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, and he moaned above you, head flopping back against the backrest of the couch. The sound made you moan, the vibrations causing Price to curse, dropping his head forward again, looking down at you with half-open eyes. You met his stare, doe eyes, sparkling with tears as you took him all the way to the back of your mouth, tip nudging the curve of your throat.

"So good. Doing so good," Price mumbled, moving his free hand around to press his thumb to the corner of your mouth. "Taking my cock so good."

He pressed his thumb past your lips, already stretched taut around his length. You whined at him as his thumb pushed in alongside his cock, pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled, escaping the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. It would have been a lot more embarrassing if Price didn't whisper, "that's my good girl" and drag his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your saliva across your face.

He continued to cradle your face with his hand, now sticky with your saliva, as you sucked him deeper. He responded with deep grunts from the depth of his chest, bucking his hips to meet the movements of your mouth.

"S-shit, love, fuck–" He gasped as you took him as deep as you could, nose pressed to the hair on his pelvis, gagging at his tip slamming against the back of your throat. "M'gonna– mmm-fuck– m'gonna cum, love, m'gonna cum."

He sounded so whiney. So fucking desperate.

His grip tightened on the back of your head and for the first time since you started sucking his cock, he really did push you. He gripped you, almost tight enough to hurt, and thrust you further down with a loud groan. You gagged around him, saliva making a mess on his lap. His thighs flexed beside your head as his hips jerked upwards, rutting his cock into your mouth over and over again as he neared his high.

He wanted to cum in your mouth. That was obvious. Obvious by the way he whispered your name over and over again, a muted moan escaping his lips as he made you take more and more of his cock in your warm mouth.

You weren't complaining. Your cunt, however, was– dripping, aching for him. You adjusted your position, rocking yourself lightly onto your heel. You let out a low whine around his cock.

"Yeah, that's it, that's it," Price uttered. "Good girl, love, such a good girl. Yeah, fuck, my good girl, taking my cock so good– fuck."

He locked your head in place, cock nestled deep in your throat as he came in hot spurts that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. He moaned your name, rich and dripping lust above you, as he filled your mouth. He came a lot, you noticed, as you gently pulled off his cock, and it leaked out of your mouth, rolling in pearls down his semi-hard length.

You rested your head against his bare thigh, enjoying the warmth of the hard muscle beneath your cheek, still holding his cock at the base. The coarse hair on his thighs tickled your flushed skin. You gave in to your earlier desires, skimming your teeth along the pale flesh, sucking your mouth to the skin with a satisfied hum.

Above you, Price delicately stroked your head, your hair, blinking lazily down at you with a fucked-out expression plastered on his face. His cheeks were dusted pink, his chest rising and falling as if he had only just stopped sparring.

You pulled your mouth away with a small bite. "Told you I'd help you."

He breathed out a laugh, other hand stroking your face. The lower half of it was tacky with your saliva and splatters of his cum.

"Always such a good girl for your captain." He whispered.

You nipped at his inner thigh again, and his breath hitched.

"Always," you whispered back. "Now, captain, if you don't mind me asking..."

He cocked an eyebrow at you, tracing a circle on your cheek with his thumb. "Hm?"

You battered your eyelashes at him. "Can you cum inside me next?"

His mouth dropped open. "Oh, fucking hell–"

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[ddejavvu]

Hi, i hope youre doing well ☺️

Could i request another part to animagus cat reader where reader cuddles with Remus during winter instead of Sirius because its cold and he runs warmer?? Like he'll be in the common room reading in an arm chair while reader catnaps on his lap while being pet and Sirius tells him to stop stealing his gf and James is jealous/whiny that he doesnt get to have cat snuggles.

part 1 / part 2

--

Despite the two blankets layered in an inviting nest on Sirius's lap, Remus is the warmest person in the room. The fire crackes on its logs, offering scorching heat, but what you seek is gentle warmth, and you've found it between Remus's sweater and his undershirt. You're splayed over his chest much like a baby would be, your paws stretched out against his shoulders and your head pressed face-first into his chest. His sweater is tight enough that it holds you in place, and you don't have to worry about falling. It means that you're able to fully relax, and Sirius can hear your rampant purring from where he sits on the couch with a sour scowl on his face.

"If you just wore warmer clothes, you wouldn't be pissy right now," Remus muses, not bothering to grace the man with a glance away from his novel, "She only likes me 'cause my sweater is warm."

That's not entirely true. While Remus does tend to dress for comfort, and Sirius for style, Remus runs naturally hotter than your boyfriend. You don't have the heart to tell him that, though, so you mewl in agreement to Remus's statement.

"Sweaters are dumb," Sirius spits, and no one bothers to mention that he has a small collection of them for the snowy days on the grounds, "I look better in leather."

"Your loss," Remus shrugs, and to add insult to injury, reaches up to scratch a spot behind your ears that only makes your purring louder.

"This is bullshit," Sirius finally huffs, breaking his facade of gloomy indifference, "Prongs, get over here."

James, all too eager to help out his friend and soak up affection to boot, has no problem tipping over sideways to lay in Sirius's lap.

But the man lifts James's head out of his lap by his curls, "No, no, no, not James. Prongs."

"You want me to-?" James asks, but doesn't dare finish, because the prospect of transforming right in the common room sends a shiver of mischief down his spine that he'd be a fool to question, "On it."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," Sirius nods, sneering haughtily at Remus, "You're not the only one that's good for a cuddle, Moony. Look at this," He gushes, as James begins his transformation, skin giving way to tight, short fur and enormous antlers that nearly grate against the stone walls around you.

"Oh, he's a perfect fit." Remus nods resignedly, content to continue rubbing at your ears rather than chastise his friends for trying to fit a stag on a loveseat, "Yeah, that'll work nicely- ooh, careful Sirius, almost got stabbed there."

Sirius dodges a prong off of James's antlers, taking them in his hands and holding James's head steady as the oversized buck folds his knobbly knees into Sirius's lap. The back two can't make it, but James fits them clumsily onto the cushion, maintaining his balance out of dramatic willpower rather than the laws of physics.

You decide once they settle that they're no longer in need of your attention, so you turn your head back towards Remus and burrow your face back into his warm chest. You feel it shake with mirth beneath you, presumably at an overdramatized reaction from the two boys opposite you, but you can't bring yourself to care; sleep is at the forefront of your brain in this form.

"Yeah, get real cozy!" Sirius insists, calling so that you can hear him through Remus's thick sweater and beneath the weight of his hand on your ears, "Whatever! We're cozy over here, too, 'never been more comfortable- ah! Prongs, watch the hooves!"

[anemptypuddingcup]

Blood is blood. No matter where it’s from.

Vampire Luffy & Law x Female Reader.

Comfort smut short.

‼️Blood warning. Reader’s on her cycle and needs pain relief.

Contains: Y’all this is a little icky yet still comforting. Vampire!Luffy & Law. Reader on her cycle. I think y’all know where this is goin. Heavy pussy eating. Law & Luffy fighting over pussy. Damn babies. Yo I’m not kidding when I say it’s icky, my brain on some crack or some shit- I recommend we don’t talk abt what Law does in the middle of the fic-😭 (Ima put a marker by the part to alert you.)

Raindrops hit the glass of the window as you lie there in the soft yet large and warm bed. You forgot how long it’s been since you’ve gotten out of bed, though you were a little bothered by the cold temperature within your room.

You tried to relax yourself in your bed but a painful little groan leaving your lips as you lie there in pain. Your cramps just refused to cease and you could barely move, the pain kept you frozen in your soft and comfy bed.

“Luffy…Traffy!”

You yell out for their names weakly and immediately hear their footsteps heading towards your door. Luffy pushes the door open and rushes in, his breaths a bit heavy as he stared at you in your bed. “Dumplin’! Sum happened!?” Luffy yells, his body in full alert mode. Law slowly enters beside Luffy, a sigh leaving him as he disregards Luffy’s ignorance.

“M-My tummy…” You whimper, holding your lower tummy as you let out a sharp whine. “Ah? Tummy ache?” Luffy asked, tiling his head. Law clears his throat before walking over to Luffy’s side. “She may be…experiencing some issues Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says, looking down at Luffy. “Like what? Ion know what else ta think other than a tummy ache.”

Law presses a palm to his face and sighs out before looking to you. “Her menstruation cycles on. Something all women go through.” Law tells Luffy, point a finger to him before poking his cheek.

“Her wha now? Mentos?”

“Her period. Is on. Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says firmly to Luffy, though Luffy still didn’t understand what Law was explaining. “Never mind. Though she seems to be in pain from her cramps.” Law points out, standing up straight and away from Luffy.

“Well, what can we do ta help? Don’ we have meds or sum Torao?” Luffy asked, turning over to Law. Law presses his fingers to his chin and sighs out in thought. “We do have painkillers, but I have a different solution. I’d rather try it first than give her painkillers.” Law says, his golden eyes peeking at your worried ones. You slowly sit up, a groan leaving your lips as you propped yourself up against your fluffy pillow.

Law trails over to you, his heels clacking against the stone floor before he stood there above your weakened little frame. “Follow my lead, Mugiwara-Ya.” Law says quietly, climbing onto the soft bedding. Luffy tilts his head and quirks a brow to Law, watching as he rested on your bed. Luffy follows Law’s lead, laying himself onto your bed as well and blinking blankly to you. The bed sinks beneath their weight as they laid flat on their tummies. Law reaches his hand to you and slowly peels back your blankets. You tug them back, pulling them up to your face.

“I-It’s cold…Traffy.” You whisper to him softly, not wanting to pull the blankets off. Law sighs and yanks the blankets back before lying his head against your thigh. His cold tatted hand presses up against your lower abdomen, a heavy hiss leaving your lips as you jolted harshly from the drop in temperature against your skin. Law rubs your lower tummy, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your panties while he massages your lower tummy with his palm. He was trying his best to help you relax before he went any further.

“Torao, don’ tell me we’re jus’ gonna comfort ‘er. Ion have an issue w’that though~” Luffy snickered, resting his head against your thigh while he looks up into your pretty eyes. You sigh out and rest against your pillows, mewling in pain yet slight satisfaction as Law massaged your tummy. “Is this helping?” He asked, quirking a smile to you. You shake your head and whimper out, yearning to turn over onto your side and curl up from the pain.

You try to turn over but Luffy groans out while Law presses a hand to your other thigh. “Ah ah, don’t turn over. I know it hurts but just wait a moment okay?” Law says to you, holding on to your thigh and squeezing it. You whine out in irritation and struggle against them both, not wanting to be bothered much more. Luffy looks at Law and blinks. “Torao, maybe we should get ‘er some meds now.” Luffy says, a bit worried by your pained whining.

“We are about the give her some treatment if she’d sit still.” Law groans out, his brow furrowing in slight irritation. Luffy groans softly as he sits up from your thigh, a soft groan leaving him as he got up onto his knees. Luffy cups your face and stares into your eyes, your whining still there though transparent and more quiet. “Cmon dumplin’, jus’ relax kay? Torao’s gonna help ya feel better~” Luffy says, giving you a soft little smile.

You huff out and look down at Law while Luffy does the same. “You’re helping me too idiot, get down here.” Law sighs out, pressing his palm to his face. Luffy snickers and gets back down with Law, looking up at you. His eyes stares at you cute tummy poking out from you sitting bent. Law traces his fingers along the hem of your panties before slowly sliding them off, a sticky trail of blood disconnecting from your cunt while you shiver in discomfort. Law and Luffy shudder at the scent of your blood and move in closer, huffing out in slight ecstasy from the scent.

‼️ Law slides his thin tongue along the pad of your panties, humming out in ecstasy as he tastes your sweet and rich blood against his tastebuds. He hums out and shudders from your delectable taste, trailing his tongue along his lips. The sticky mixture coats his tongue and throat and he exhaled shakily from the texture and consistency. “It’s even richer down here, and the consistency is just so fucking wonderful~” Law mewls, slurping up the rest of your remaining blood off of the pad before setting your panties aside.

You stare down at him with slight disgust but shrug it off, your mind too stuck on the pain to worry about Law’s little action. “Oi Toraoooo, I wanna tasteeee.” Luffy groans out childishly, his long fingernails scratching gentle along your soft skin. Law and Luffy looks back up at you before smiling all slyly at you.

You blink before looking away from them.

“May we? It may help with your cramps.” Law asked, looking up at you as he begins to press soft yet sticky and bloody smooches against your thigh. You groan out upsettingly and nodded, not caring what they’d do as long as the cramps had ceased and disappeared for the time being. “Y-Yes, anything please…I don’t want to keep hurting…” You whined out, pressing your hand against your head. Luffy and Law look at each other and grab your hips with Luffy moving in first.

“Want the first taste, Mugiwara-Ya?” Law asked, giving him a little smirk. Luffy shakes his head quickly, eager to get a taste at your blood. Law gestures him to your bare and sticky pussy and Luffy moves in closer to you.

He presses a soft smooch to your clit before sliding his long tongue along your sticky and bloody slit, moaning out softly from your taste. Luffy practically buries his face between his your legs, slithering his tongue past your entrance and slurping up your blood through your pussy. You mewl out softly as you felt Luffy’s tongue wriggle inside of your cunt, his tongue practically prodding at your g-spot and making you gasp out and arch your back.

“Mmgh~ L-Luffy~” You gasp out, pressing your hand softly to his head while he slurps at your pussy. Law moves in closer and tends to your clit, his mouth latched against your labia before he begins curling his tongue around your clit. You gasp out at the attention you pussy was receiving, your toes twitching and curling from the pleasure of both of their tongues tending to you.

“Oh f-fuck~ T-That feels so much better~ P-Please keep going~” You moan out softly, pressing both of your hands to their heads. They look up at you with their slit eyes and smile before focusing back to your pussy. Law gasps out and pulls back from your clit, looking to Luffy who was still moaning and slurping up the blood deep inside of your entrance.

“Oi Mugiwara-Ya, don’t hog it all to yourself.” Law huffs, gripping Luffy’s hair and pulling his head back and away from your pussy. You gasp out suddenly as Luffy’s tongue slid out of your pussy easily, a groan leaving past his lips as his brows furrowing with irritation. “I wan’ s’more Torao!” Luffy frowned, glaring at Law. Law grits his teeth, his fangs showing as he moves Luffy out of the way before moving his own face close to your entrance.

Luffy pushes Law, squishing his face against his as he moves back in closer to your entrance. You watched as they bickered and let out a worrisome whimper, pressing your hands to their heads again. Both of the bickering men slide their tongues past your entrance making you gasp suddenly before letting out a loud little moan. You arch your back as you feel both of their tongues wriggling and run along your sweet spot, biting your bottom lip form the pleasure.

Law presses his thumb up against your clit and rubs little circles against it, making you release your voice from the sweet attention. “O-Oh~ S-So good!~ Too much!~” You whine out, your brows furling from the pleasure while biting your bottom lip tightly. Luffy and Law mewl out, their hands clawing at your hips and coating your skin in scratches. You whine out and squirm a bit beneath their lips, your tummy growing hotter as you felt your orgasm building up deep inside.

“F-Fuck! I-I’m gonna cum!~” You moan out loudly, your hands now gripping their strands a bit tight while you huff out heavily. Luffy moves away from your entrance once again, moving Law’s thumb to tend to your clit with his tongue. He suckling and smooches at your clit, groaning out sweetly as he tries his best to pull your orgasm with his tongue and lips. “Cmon dumplin’, don’ hold it back from us~” Luffy whines, suckling on your clit a bit harder and sliding his tongue against it.

Law continues to lap his tongue against your g-spot, his hand pulling your hip closer into both Luffy’s lips and his. “I-I’m gonna!- M’Gonna!” You gasp out loudly and shudder against them, creaming around Law’s tongue while Luffy slides his tongue along your entrance to get a little taste of your entrance. Law pulls his face away and chuckles both his chin and Luffy’s sticky and covered in your blood and essence. “S’good aren’t you? Did that help your cramps precious?” Law asks tilting his head.

You nodded and lie back, a yawn leaving your lips as you grew…rather tired yet extremely relieved and satisfied. Law pulls back and pulls on Luffy’s collar, pulling him away from you. Luffy looks down and picks up your panties before sliding them back onto you, the pad cold and making you shudder as it met with your warm slit. “Rest well and please, don’t hesitate to ask for our help again, ________-Ya~” Law says, smiling as he got off of your bed.

You hum out before relaxing against your pillows, another yawn leaving you before you slowly shut your eyes. Luffy lord there beside you, wanting to relax and rest with you while you slept. “Are you staying in here with her, Mugiwara-Ya?” Law asked, turning back to Luffy. “Mhm…Wanna make sure m’dumpling’s okay…Wanna stay here w’her…” Luffy says sleepily, kicking off his sandals and laying his entire body onto your bed. Law sighs and nods before stopping at the doorway.

“Make sure you clean yourself up please.” Law says before walking out of bedroom, closing the door behind him. Luffy moves in closer to you but makes sure not to move his chin and mouth anywhere near you.

He relaxes with you, his back up against the headboard with his arm pulling you closer into his embrace.

[luveline]

Would KILL (not you) for a bit of Hotch rn.

Like just started dating, all new and neat. Shy reader at home while Hotch is at work and is having a lonesome girls night, face mask, pizza, dancing, the whole thing. Hotch then pays an impromptu visit. Pls and Thankyou

Love you you’re amazing 💕

thank you for your request! hotch x shy!reader ♡

You're tucked up on the couch trying not to get face mask in your pizza, or cheese in your face mask, when the doorbell rings. You drop your slice back into the box, eyes widened of their own accord. There's no way you can answer the door, not when your hair's sweaty from your latest karaoke dance routine, you're in your ratty pyjamas with a hole in the collar, and your face is blue. It's not happening.

You turn the volume down on your TV, sink down on the couch, and pray whoever it is didn't hear you laughing at your own Freddie Mercury impression. That would put you in an early grave, you'd die from embarrassment alone.

There's a heavy rap at the door. Your phone starts ringing on vibrate beside you. You slide off of the pillows and onto the floor, grabbing your phone and answering with as much grace as you can.

"Hello?" you ask.

"Hey, are you home?" Hotch's voice comes thick and steady through the speaker, and you swear you can hear a hint of amusement you'd rather have missed.

"Is that you, at the door?" you ask, knowing it is, and knowing this is the worst day of your life.

"Is that alright? I brought wine. I tried to call, but it wasn't going through, and you said I could come by whenever, now that we're–"

"Yeah," you say, getting to your feet. You're breathless suddenly, because you're very attractive boyfriend is at the door, and he's only been your boyfriend for a week —though he'd 'courted' you for far longer— and seeing him is a delight no matter how flustered he can get you. "It's alright, of course it's alright, um, uh, just– Aaron, I'm not very presentable."

"Could I be the judge?"

You look down at your fluffy socks. "Yes, I suppose so."

You go to the front door and open it. There's an abject moroseness to your actions, like defeat. This is where Aaron realises he's made a mistake, and he breaks up with you, and it breaks your heart forever. He really is handsome.

"Oh," Aaron says, standing on the short stone step outside of your house with a bottle of wine in hand.

"Sorry," you say, cringing.

"You're blue."

"Yes. I'm blue."

Aaron tilts his head slightly to one side, and his resting stern face lightens. "You look cute."

It's like being winded. He might as well have slapped you flat in the chest with the front of his wrist. "Thank you," you say, hoping that the floor will miraculously collapse beneath you and the earth will swallow you whole.

"Can I come in?" he asks, head still tilted. "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

He laughs like this is extremely funny as you step back to make room for him inside. The bottle of win gets put on the sideboard that houses your shoes, and before you know it you have arms wrapped around you. Aaron gives perfect hugs; they aren't too tight, and they aren't too loose. His cheek rubs against your temple.

"You'll get blue on you," you say, trying to push him away.

And when he pulls back, you're right. Blue face mask has transferred from you to him, wet on his chin but quickly drying. You try to scrub it off of him with your thumb but the colour spreads around and makes an even bigger mess.

"Oh, sugar, I'm sorry," you say, your hands all over his face.

"You missed a spot," he says.

"Aaron, I've missed lots of spots."

"A particular spot, right..." He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leans in for a long, chaste kiss. "There," he says, pulling away.

He has face mask on his cupids bow and the tip of his nose. You blink, dazzled, and prompt a laugh from your unsually smiley boyfriend.

"Cute," he says again, with an air of finality. "Want to order in?"

"I already got pizza."

"Oh, good. I thought with all the singing you might’ve been too busy."

If your face wasn't blue you'd drop it into your hands and weep. Aaron twines your fingers together, leading you into the living room for more pizza, blue chin and all.

[slvttyplum]

⋆˚🐾˖° save a horse ride a what?

synopsis: you meet toji at the club and get into a messy situation (part two of “cowboy.”)

contents: bathroom fucking, mention of (princess, doll, and cowgirl)

“You should’ve worn something else, something that gives your tits life, ya know?” Your friend says as her hair sways in the wind and her six-inch stiletto hills click on the ground.

It was 40 fucking degrees; she better be glad you even wore a dress.

You sigh, crossing one side of your coat to the other, breathing out as snow was falling.

"Oh, look, it’s snowing.” You say this, smiling and holding out your hand. Your friend looks over to you, then up at the sky, doing the same.

“Oh my, I shouldn’t have worn this dress.” She says jerking her dress down. You laugh, looping your arm with hers as you both arrive at the club.

The bouncer immediately lets the both of you in because of your friend. You were quite nervous, not having been in a club in a while because of work.

Once you heard the music, chattering, and dancing, your body loosened up. This wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

"I think the bulky coats look kind of crazy now," you say, slipping it off and throwing it over your arm. Your friend smiles at you taking hers off and grabbing yours.

She squints her eyes, scanning the room, then holding out her arm and snapping her fingers.

"Hey ginger boy, take this to room B. Make sure you put #1 and #2 on the coats."

You open your mouth to say something, but just let it go. If someone steals your coat, she owes you a new one.

She takes a hold of your arm, leaning into your ear. “There’s so many hotties; who’re you taking home tonight?"

She rubbed your arm and scanned the room, looking around. There were a ton of bodies grinding on each other and a few men standing to the side, observing.

You continue scanning until your eyes land on a familiar face. Before you can say anything, your friend speaks up.

“Oh my, what about that hunk of candy right there?" she says, pointing at where you were standing.

All color drained from your face, and you were stiff as a board. Of course, you’ve seen patients out in public, but the thought of seeing them in the club made you queasy.

Toji turns his head, looking straight at you. The smile he had plastered on his face while talking to his friends is now turning into a smirk as his hand drops down to his belt.

You quickly turn your head towards your friend, and she cocks her eyebrow, taking a step back.

“What’s wrong?”

You grab her arm, pulling her back, leaning in closer to her ear

“That’s the patient I was telling you about.” You whisper shout into her ear. She clasps onto your arm, holding her mouth open, looking directly at him.

“Oh my god, he’s hotter than you described."

You roll your eyes, avoiding his gaze at all costs—just your luck.

From your peripheral, you see him walking towards the two of you, and you’re still frozen.

Shit, you didn’t know what to do but to just stand there.

“Go get us some shots; I'm going to the bathroom.” You say, rubbing her arm. She looks at you, jerking her dress down.

“We’ll go together.” She says putting her hand over yours. You knew where she was coming from, of course, but you wanted no encounter with this man and needed a shot.

Why not kill two birds with one stone?

You shake your head, smiling. "No, no, it’s fine; I'll be really quick; I have my phone right here.” you say, motioning towards your midsection, where your phone is clasped in between your bra.

She smiles, rubbing your arm back and nodding you off. You quickly turn around, walking towards the bathroom.

"I didn’t think you were the type to run away," you hear someone say, then tapping on a belt.

shit.

"Oh, eat me fushiguro," you say, holding the handle of the bathroom door. the sound of booming music at a distance since it's down a narrow hallway.

He laughs, leaning against the wall and tapping his foot. "Oh, trust me, honey, I'm trying.” You fling your head around, causing your whole body to basically turn.

Your hand is still clinging to the door. Nod. “What do you want?” A sigh followed the words.

Your eyes scan over his body; he’s wearing a white wife beater, a black flannel, blue boot-cut jeans, and brown cowboy boots.

What a joke.

“You already know what I'm going to say, baby.” His smirk was still plastered over his perfect face, and the flashing lights were creeping its way towards the black hallway.

He looked good—a little too good. No, no stop; you can’t think this about a patient, ever.

You cleared your throat, twisting the door knob, causing the door to open. “Go back and have fun, bye.”

You stepped in, but you felt his presence still lingering after you. You turn around, and he’s there, smiling—no smirk, but smiling.

He quickly closes the door, locking it. the fuck?

“Absolutely not; this is highly inappropriate; get the hell out.” You say backing away from him. His hand is still resting on the top of his belt buckle, tapping it.

"I'm just making sure you’re safe.” He coos out, holding up one arm in defense. Your face scrunches up, and you fold your arms over your chest.

“Then do it out there; get the fuck out.” You yell, backing away from him again. This wasn’t a threatening aura.

The loud music from outside was slowly creeping into the bathroom. There was nothing but silence between you two, because he’s still there.

He steps closer to you as you back away from him some more, your back hitting the wall. He puts his hand above you on the wall, and his hand snakes around your waist.

You cock your eyebrow, putting your hand on his chest, trying to push him, but deep down inside, you knew you really weren’t trying to get him off.

A dark strand of his hair falling down into his eye. There’s still that awkward silence, but you both know where this is going and how it’s going to end.

Should you even do this? You shouldn’t give him what he wants.

“Come on, baby, I know you want it.” his hand sliding down to your ass, to the back of your upper thigh, slipping it under your dress.

His warm fingertips grazing your thigh. Why aren’t you pushing him away? Why does he look so good? Why do you want to pull him in?

You take your arms, wrap them around his neck, and dive in for a kiss. His other hand snakes around your waist, and the hand that was previously on your thigh creeps up, sitting on your ass.

His lips are soft, but his touch is rough—or is that you? Did you secretly want this all this time?

Your tongue slides over your lip, and you open up, letting him in. Your body is hot, and his breath is breathing into yours with rhythm.

He groans into your mouth, aching for more. He’s been waiting for this. your touch, your taste, everything.

Is this how it was happening?

He takes his other hand, gripping your ass and moving his leg in between your legs. your heat directly over his knee; if he moves one more inch, you'll—

He moves his knee up, touching your heat. You moan into his mouth, your arms tightening around his neck and his tongue swirling over yours.

He takes his hands and slides them under your ass, swiftly picking you up. This doesn’t phase you but only turns you on more, with your legs wrapping around his waist.

He begins walking to a stall, and your phone buzzes on your midsection. You quickly pull away from the kiss, digging in your dress and pulling out your phone.

Your friend is calling. shit you forgot. You quickly answer the phone, clearing your voice.

“yes? Sorry, I'm still in the bathroom."

“yeah? what’s wrong? Do you need me to come?

"No, no! "Im with someone.”

You hear your friend gasp loudly, and you look at Toji with a smirk on his face. You put your hand over his face, rolling your eyes.

"I'm safe. Sorry for ditching you.”

"Oh, honey, I've done it to you plenty; get you some!"

With that, there’s a click and an awkward silence slithering in the air again. You remove your hand from his face, staring at him.

He’s looking at you, then at your phone.

“Need somewhere to put that?” You look down at your phone and nod. He walks over to the counter and sets you down.

“Just put it right there; no one’s coming anytime soon.” He says resting both his hands on your thigh.

Your body heats up more, and you hesitate to put your hand over his, but you do anyway.

He takes his other hand and slides it in between your thighs, his hands tough but his touch delicate, like you’re a flower he doesn’t want to fall apart.

"I need you, baby," he says, slowly crotching down, your breath starting to shake with nervousness.

You still couldn’t believe what you were doing, but fuck it. He pulls your legs, sliding your butt towards the edge of the counter.

He takes his hand, hooking his fingers under your panty band and quickly sliding them off. You gasp, startled, but calm yourself down.

You've done this before. You've done this before.

His head moves closer towards your heat; not hesitating for a minute longer, he slides his tongue over your slit.

A long shiver running down your spine, your hand flings on his head, gripping a handful of hair and balling it into your fists.

His tongue takes no time sliding over your clit and taking his lips, sucking your clit, pulsing, and sucking over and over again.

Your thighs are threatening to close, but they can't; instead, they spread further and your hands ball tighter.

His hands wrap around your thighs as your body slides inch by inch off the counter. You taste so good—better than he could’ve ever imagined.

His dick is throbbing inside his pants, making the fabric tighter on him. He wanted to keep sucking and tasting you, but he needed you in ways that were bad for him.

His fingers dig into your thighs, and you throw your head back, biting your lower lip in agony. Your hand unclenches out of his hair as your chest rises and falls.

He pulls away from your now-dripping heat and stands up, quickly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You gulp and subtly spread your legs out more as he pulls down his briefs, his long length popping up and hitting his stomach.

He pulls his shirt up, puts it in his mouth, and bites it. He digs in his back pocket and pulls out a condom.

Your eyes watch him intently as his hands rip open the condom package. “You ready, baby?” You’re practically drooling at the sight and nodding your head.

He slides the condom on and puts one hand around his length and his other hand on your thigh.

He stops for a few seconds, and you tilt your hand, cocking your eyebrow in curiosity. "You're nervous; you’re finally going to fuck me or what?”

He laughs, looking at the ceiling, then back at you. "I think this would be a way better experience if you rode me, princess."

Your jaw drops, and your eyebrow still cocked.

Cute, he thinks to himself.

"I'm not fucking on a bathroom floor; you’re insane.” You say pouting and rolling your eyes.

He smiles at you, shaking his head and pointing behind you. "Nope, right there.” He bends down, pulling down his pants, and takes off his shoes.

He then walks beside you, hoping on the counter, lying down on the cold, hard surface, patting his lap.

“Hop on, cowgirl," he says, winking at you. Your cheeks get hot, and you gulp—should you really?

Fuck it. You hop on the counter, putting one leg on one side and keeping the other leg on the other side.

Your hands are placed on his chest, and you hold yourself up as he positions his dick at your opening.

“Brace yourself," he says, lining himself up and giving you a nod to sit down. You slowly slide on his length, and your breathing gets faster.

The pressure on his chest from you pushing into him only makes him harder. His dick twitches before sliding all the way inside of you.

He lifts his hips, pushing inside you some more. You grit your teeth, your hand forming into a fist on his chest.

He does this a couple more times before, and before you can get used to his length inside you, your hips start slowly moving on top of him.

“There you go, baby, you got it.” Those words make the hairs on your arm stand up as you flop yourself down on his length.

With his head thrown back and his hands coming to rest on your hips, you keep rocking back and forth on top of him.

It felt so wrong, but so fucking right.

His nails dig into your hips, and pleasure shoots through you, your body colliding with his at every movement.

His hips move up and down, hitting every spot imaginable. the sounds of your body’s slapping with each other getting drowned out by the loud music.

Your moans get more audible as you reach the top of your sex. You continue to rock your hips as he gets faster thrusting into you.

You match his rhythm pushing down on his and your ass slapping down every time. Your palms are sweaty, and your mind is in the clouds. He felt so good inside you.

His dick curving hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, and you were sure you were going to cum at this rate.

He takes one hand off your hip and cupping your tit in his big, rough hands. A moan escapes your mouth at that very second.

With a lot more following once you hit your climax, "Wait, oh.. fu-.” Your moaning and whimpering were interrupted by his dick twitching inside of you, pressing on your sweet spot.

You twitch on top of him, throwing your head back and moaning even more when he swipes over your nipple.

His moans intertwined with yours when he reached his climax; your body was limp on top of him, your post-nut clarity eluding inside you when you looked down at him.

His eyes squeezed shut, and before you could say anything, there was a loud banging at the door.

“Hurry the fuck up! I have to piss.” You hear a stranger yell outside the door. You quickly lift your hips up, sliding him out of you and hopping off the counter.

“Slow down, partner.” Toji says, laughing, getting up, and doing the same. He stands up and carefully slides off the condom and ties it up, walking towards the trash can and tossing it.

You quickly slide on your panties stumbling over yourself, cursing yourself for doing this. When your panties are on, you slip on your shoes and grab your phone, staring at Toji, who is putting on that awful belt.

He tilts his head up, looking at you and grinning, “How was fucking in the bathroom for the first time, doll?”

You scrunch your face up, crossing your arms, and say, “Who told you this was my first time?" You smile to yourself as you walk towards the door.

He clicks his belt, following you as you open the door. There’s two women in front of the door with puke all over them, scrunching their faces at you. When they see Toji behind you, their eyes light up.

They enter the bathroom, still looking at him, the door closing behind them.

You turn towards him with a deadpan expression plastered on your face, “well.”

He grins at you, laughing, taking his hand and cupping your cheek. "I know you don’t want me to drag this out, so I'm going to leave. I'll see you Monday, Dr."

He winks at you, walking away. Your heart fluttered for the first time at his words.

You needed him…

[writing-for-marvel]

Day 16: Massage

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: A relaxing day on Bucky’s private yacht turns into a sensual massage.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, sex on a yacht, oral (male receiving)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“Buck, baby, can you please rub sunscreen on my back?”

You feel Bucky’s private yacht fluctuate as the swell of the water flows beneath the hull. It’s easy to see, as Bucky hops out of the glass-bottom pool, that he’s found his sea legs, walking over to you with that sexy strut as if he were on steady land. Something you haven’t quite mastered yet.

His eyes are hidden by his custom Gucci sunglasses, but you’re absolutely positive that his gaze is roaming over your body in the designer swimsuit he picked out as you lay sunbaking on a sun lounger by the pool.

His toned, tanned body looks like that of a Greek God, firm enough to have been carved from stone, and now droplets of water running in rivers through the canals between his abs which makes you drool. There are some days where you don’t quite understand how you managed to convince a man with a body like that to marry you.

You squeeze the tube of sunscreen lightly, so that a couple of drops land in the centre of your chest, flowing down between your breasts. A cheeky smirk curves at your lips as you rub in the lotion over your entire chest, all the while maintaining eye contact with your husband.

He tugs the sunglasses down his nose, peering over the top of them as you spread the cream over the top of your breasts. Those spellbinding eyes are the colour of the vast ocean beneath you, a deep lust swirls in his pupils and he bites the inside of his cheek, a telling sign his mind is billowing with lascivious thoughts.

This is his ‘two can play at this game’ face. Just what you were hoping for.

Once your skin has absorbed all the sunscreen, you pass Bucky the tube, adjust the sun lounger so it’s lying flat and flip yourself over so you’re laying face down, ass up. Bucky’s fingers graze your skin as he slowly unties the knot of your bikini top. Though there is not a cloud in the sky and the sun shines warm and bright, a shiver flurries down your spine.

As Bucky begins to rub the sunscreen onto your back, you feel the tension in your muscles melt away under his skilled touch. His hands expertly work out all the knots and kinks in your back, those that remain from the stress of planning a wedding to the King of New York's underworld, moving in slow, relaxing circles that make you want to moan.

Bucky's hands roam every inch of bare skin he can find, tracing the curve of your hips, kneading your uptight shoulders and stroking the tension from the back of your neck. The pressure of his touch is so soothing that you almost forget where you are until you feel the sweltering rays of the sun on your skin.

But then something changes.

As Bucky continues to massage the lotion into the expanse of your back, his fingers continually drift lower until they're brushing against the top of your swimsuit bottoms. At first you consider it accidental, but this is Bucky Barnes you're talking about, he knows exactly what he's doing with those adept, calloused hands. No touch is incidental with him.

You feel Bucky's hands slip under the fabric, his fingers now exploring the curve of your ass. Biting the inside of your cheek, you try not to let out a wanton moan as he nudges your thighs apart and fingers begin moving in patterns over your clothed pussy.

His touch is gentle at first, playful even, but then he finds the sweet spot that sends an electric current racing through all your nerves. You let out a whimper, unable to hold back any longer, and that's when he firmly grabs your hips and flips you over onto your back.

“You like these hands, don’t you baby? I can practically smell how wet you are.”

You stare pleadingly into Bucky's eyes, silently begging for him to continue touching you, to satisfy you in the way only he knows how.

You're addicted to your husband, to how he touches you, the tenderness in his contact even as he is about to ravage you, to how his eyes brim with a devotion you have never known another man to have for his partner, to how he makes you feel so loved and as if you are the beginning and end of his entire existence within the span of a single breath.

With the assistance of you lifting your hips, Bucky slides the swimsuit off your body, maintaining piercing eye contact with you the entire time. He flings them somewhere close to the pool.

His gaze carries an intensity you’re familiar with by now, and you can feel the throbbing pulse within your clit in response to it.

“How about a simultaneous massage?” Bucky’s roguish voice breaks through the calming sound of the water splashing against the side of the boat.

Your husband steps out of his swimming shorts to reveal just how worked up he became while massaging your body. His dick stands tall and ready for you, and a characteristic charming smirk curves on his menacingly beautiful face as he saddles up beside you, hand reaching to find the wetness pooling between your legs. Two fingers trail gentle paths through your folds, gathering arousal, as you curl your fingers around the base of Bucky’s length, twisting your wrist as you begin jacking him off.

He swears with a sharp exhale, twinkling blue eyes looking deep into yours as you pump your hand with the rhythm you’ve learnt he enjoys. But Bucky knows your body like the back of his hand, he doesn’t need to look between your thighs for the pads of his fingers to locate your clit and continually toy with it. No matter how many times he touches you, it never feels any less magical, the way pleasure surges in the pit of your stomach, ballooning to the point where you’re anticipating the moment it will pop and fill your entire soul with sparking satisfaction.

“Mmmm Buck, that feels so good. I love your fingers.”

As you begin rolling your hips to meet the dexterous movements of his fingers, you sit up further in the lounger so you have the leverage in your body to lean over towards Bucky and swirl your tongue around his bulbous tip leaking precum.

When you take him in your mouth, a strained gasp falls from his lips, the sound sending tingles straight to your core. He’s thick, long and heavy - the first time you ever attempted to suck him off had been a challenge to fit even half of him down your throat, but now, after a lot of practice, it’s like second nature.

“Look at you, baby, doing so well for me.” Bucky concurrently affectionately swipes his thumb over your cheek as you gag on his cock with one hand and continues to stimulate the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs with the other. He’s simultaneously the sweetest, most devoted life partner, and the filthiest, prurient personification of sex on legs you’ve ever laid eyes on.

How did you get so lucky?

You moan around his cock as Bucky finds the perfect tempo, pattern and pressure on your clit which has stars exploding behind your eyelids.

“Fuck darling, your mouth feels like heaven.” Bucky begins rutting his hips into your mouth as if he can’t help but want to feel even more of you.

Ecstasy blooms in the pit of your stomach that only Bucky has ever been able to give rise to - he can make you feel unimaginable pleasure with just the sound of his voice and the pads of his fingers that no one else has ever been able to show you.

You choke on Bucky’s length as your orgasm washes through you like a warm wave, your back arching off the sun lounger and eyes fluttering shut with the ferocity of your climax.

Bucky’s hands coax you through your high, and you attempt to continue to stimulate him while your body seizes. Once the world around you comes back into focus, your senses seemingly heightened, your attention hones in on Bucky’s pleasure.

You swallow as much of his shaft as you can whilst reaching up to cup and fondle his balls in that rolling motion you know absolutely does him in. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and saliva messily coats Bucky’s length as you gag on his whole dick, challenging yourself to take as much of it as you can.

The guttural groan which comes from his lips only encourages you to work him over quicker, and all it takes is for to look up at him through your lashes, meeting his vulnerable gaze, for you to feel his balls tighten under you touch, his cock to twitch and his warm spend shoot down the back of your throat.

You don’t stop bobbing your head along his shaft until his entire release coats your tongue. When you pull back, you make a show of displaying this to him before swallowing all of it in one gulp.

“My perfectly filthy wife.” Bucky beams even though you look completely dishevelled, before cupping your face in his hands and capturing your lips in a devoted kiss.

You scoot over on the sun lounger to create space for your beefy husband to slide in beside you. His embrace is almost as warm as the bright sunshine coating you both as the sway of the yacht lulls you both to sleep.

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