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nexusnyx · 1 year

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keep close | joel miller

Summary: It takes you six months to break. You thought you'd last longer. Tried convincing yourself that everything in your head was because he saved you, not because of real attraction. One night, Joel proves that to be wrong. a/n: I'm nothing if a byproduct of my environment. And my environment right now is a mind palace made only of Pedro's role... so here we go. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. [WC: 3.7k] Warnings: Mostly fluff. A hint of indecent thoughts, so maybe reader discretion is advised? Protective!Joel, strangers to friends, unresolved sexual tension.

masterlist

What lived under your skin the most was Joel's duality.

Registering the range of what he was proved to be a difficult task from the very beginning.

Here he was, the man who saved you. The man who somehow, despite the gritty and cruel ways of existence, managed to keep a kind bone in his body. Kind enough to step in when you were in danger, even if he didn't need to. Life-threatening danger—most people would look away these days. But not him. Not Joel.

Here he was, the man who was kind enough to look you in the eye when he saw you crunched down in a corner, sweating profusely due to the wounds and most likely looking like a rabid or wild animal, and still tried putting some calmness to his voice before asking: "Can you walk? I heard you. 'm gonna help, ok?"

That man. The same one who beat the bastards who were keeping you to a pulp. That man, currently, slept only a couple of feet away from you, with his face half-tucked inside his scarf and jacket, and for the first time in your life, you saw Joel... smiling.

It was the first time you witnessed it.

The book on his lap told you he fell asleep mid-chapter. While the sprain and cuts were minor compared to what they could be, Joel fussed as if they were broken bones. The most worrisome part was your ribs, but those, he cut out fabric from an old t-shirt of his ("they're all old now though, aren't they?") and wrapped your body as firmly as he could.

It made you smile, even if only at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

How could this be the same man?

Sometimes, you closed your eyes and saw him like that.

Mid-fight, rage and sadness oozing out of him as if they were radiation, his fists flying so fast it seems impossible to catch up to the act.

When violence is needed, Joel breaks the calm surface and introduces outsiders to the storm within.

It goes calm, storm, drizzle.

He'd never change that.

Now that it was too late, Joel would always be this sea of turbulent waters, often hidden by its vastness.

Joel "I will punch you in the throat" Miller asked you very few questions at first.

Dinner on the day he rescued had been awkward, to say the least.

Not that it mattered in the long run.

What was awkwardness in the face of not looking over your shoulder, and what was feeling left out and intrusive in comparison to the jittery stress of always checking if the gun is loaded?

Nothing.

Having two people close by who seemed alright in the head — a rarity, if there ever was one —trumped it all.

Joel and Ellie were headed West. So were you.

It was logical, only. Or it was, at first.

"I could definitely use an extra pair of hands with this one," Joel admitted. It was the first night walking together after one week stationed at the same place to wait for yours and Ellie's healing—a night of dubious whiskey and traded information.

"She doesn't seem that difficult," you answered, eyeing Ellie's sleeping frame on the other side of camp.

He scoffs. "She isn't." His lips pursed in a thin line. "I just—" his shoulders shrugged. "Think she might get bored with just me."

For someone who had barely said a word for a whole week, it was more than you first perceived him to be. "The world's quite a boring place now," you whispered. Then, shrugged your shoulders just the same. I don't care. "I like it."

"Do you?"

"I do." You remembered how noisy things were. So many nowadays lacked the age for that, but not you. "'s nice hearing nature. And that one," you tilted your chin towards Ellie, "should be happy to be alive."

The truth of that hung in the air.

That first conversation sealed it for you—Joel making an effort to ask things and answer your inquiries surprised you.

"Think we can keep her alive 'till we get to the Fireflies base?" Joel asked you.

You thought it over for a second, and came to a conclusion. "We can definitely try." A purpose other than escaping — all you've ever known — and surviving sounded good to you. "And if that's your mission, probabilities of success rise with another member on the team."

That night, all you got out of him was one eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" It sounded teasing, but he looked so serious saying it. "Well. 'm gonna hope you're as good with that rifle as you are with your probabilities."

To his delight, he quickly discovered you were.

Faster, even.

Joel might have risen an eyebrow at first, but your sentence proved to be true in the next couple of months. There's a team there. The two of you do your best at trying, even through hardships.

When there are no Fireflies, you make Ellie look away from the bloodshed. With no clear plan or direction in sight, you're a helpful extra set of eyes when Joel decides it's best to look for Tommy.

In all of the three months where you, Joel, and Ellie head towards Wyoming, a routine is established, and the days looking after each other make it hard to pretend there's any distance between your little group.

Ellie is fond of your Encyclopedia of Unbelievable Facts.

She's a quick learner, an agile fighter with a wicked sense of humor, and enough cursing to rival you in the games of "unladylike shit and sounding like pirates, honestly," as stated by Joel.

He hid a lot of his amusement in scoffs and sighs, you thought.

Joel is fond of doing perimeter checks, sleeping on his side, and 'peace and quiet'.

It takes you a bit to understand that it's easier to pull conversation from him when Ellie is safe and sound. Tucked in her sleeping bag, showering in the river streams (and swearing incessantly under her breath), eating her food.

Without Ellie around, Joel opens up, bit by bit.

He talks about Tess.

About how close he and Tommy always were.

"I bailed him out of jail, y'know? That night of..." he doesn't say it.

Most of us never do. "Did you?"

He chuckles drily. "I did." He shakes his head, sips his water. "Stupid fucker."

"More like lucky fucker." When Joel turns his head to you with furrowed eyebrows, you elaborate. "If you hadn't gone, no more Tommy."

Joel takes a second before nodding. "Yeah."

"Were you always bailing him out of trouble?"

His face softened for a second. Before him, you embraced the darkness as you did the silence, but now, you wished for better lighting. "Often. Once, he and I were at our dad's house on a winter hunting trip. He hated those at first, but before..."

You started living for the stories.

Joel's presence became warm when he shared.

Vivid, and so fucking tempting.

It was all soft whispers back and forth, until the day he dropped her name.

"Sarah."

You knew the second you heard it—an open wound starts smelling the longer it stays open, and this one carried literal weight to it.

A whiff in the wind, and mourning was all over the air.

Joel left, and in the morning, nothing more is said.

Colorado changes everything.

It gives you the smile.

It comes at a cost, like everything else.

Since there's been no Tommy, you advise and convince Joel to check the Fireflies base here, only to find out they're relocated to Salt Lake City. When you three are coming out of the building with the fresh news hot on your laps, a group tries to ambush and kidnap you three.

As it does in this world without order, hell breaks lose.

Other than hell, a lot more breaks—protocol, jaws, ideas, trust.

Theirs thankfully.

You, Joel, and Ellie make it out alive, but not good.

You find a safehouse in a mountain cabin.

"Friend of Tommy's used to live here. Thank fuck it's still here," said Joel.

"Thank fuck indeed 'cause I don't know how much longer I can—oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel."

"Hey, hey, take it easy, slow down." Joel is just if not more fucked up than you from the fight, but he's still the one holding you up. He whistles—a call for Ellie. "Help with her other side, we can finish lighting up the place afterward. She needs to lie down."

Ellie hooks her frame underneath your left side, and you thank her with your weak and sweaty smile. "And your sure just lying down and resting will heal her rib?"

"It just cracked. Bones heal, El."

"I'm just checking." Ellie always checks. "You might need some penicillin, too. That knife looked ugly."

"I'll get it once we're all cleaned up. I'll go on a run," says Joel.

You're hurt too, you bastard.

"I'm the only one not limping here, can't I go?" asks Ellie.

"No," you and Joel say in unison. "I'll go tomorrow. I'm bruised, but nothing's infected. I think I saw a warehouse down there."

Ellie sighs next to your ear. Then, she mumbles to you right before you're lied down on the bed. "Bet this will be Pittsburg two."

Pittsburg.

The fight. Joel deciding to save you despite your brother almost ruining Ellie's life.

Joel's frame sleeping next to your cot.

"You shouldn't have run off like that."

Not a single request for your apologies, or a comment on the shitshow that happened before you just 'ran off'.

Joel, the same man who saved you from a group of lunatics by bashing one of their member's head against the nearest tree, huffed and puffed before saying, "you saved Ellie's life by shooting your brother. and... i'm sorry about what came after that."

An apology from him.

How was that fair?

"You don't need—to thank me."

"I do."

"...You just saved my life, Joel."

"Well, you saved Ellie's, so consider us even."

That was then.

That was before deciding you were a team. Before heading West, before finding out about Salt Lake, before the attack.

Joel probably needed to rest himself.

Except—

There he is.

The first thing you think upon waking up in the candle-lit room.

Joel slept next to you, almost as if keeping guard.

It stirs the strings in your chest.

It's one thing to be observed by him after he saved you from those three men because you're bruised and traumatized by the whole thing.

It's whole other to know Joel is just as bruised.

Six months have passed since then.

A lot has happened. More than you could compute, sometimes, but less than your heart desired.

All the struggles, the Infected, the long days of walking, and the hard nights of worrying have molded this new thing into its own ecosystem.

This Joel sleeping on an old mattress right next to you lets Ellie take watch because he trusts her abilities and her notion of danger. He knows if you two prefer your 'apocalypse grub' — an Ellie trademark term — all mixed together or separated, if you can be trusted with the bourbon bottle (no), and that your taste in music is "atrocious but expected" (his words, clearly).

This Joel knew you kept your distance for a reason.

He'd seen it in you, months ago.

And yet, there he was.

With the book — your book — in his lap, sitting with his back to the wall and his legs already tucked inside the raggedy blankets you found in one of the cabinets.

Joel's extensive list of injuries had you waking up in a cold sweat, but the same as you, he seemed to recover fast.

In two days, he's wincing less to get up, and comments on his wishes to go look for pharmaceuticals.

That's the night you wake up to him sleeping—both of you could do it, but he insisted on taking turns.

When your eyes open, first, you see the book.

Then, you notice he moved the mattress closer to yours.

They're touching.

The raggedy blankets make them look like a single bed, and the thought feels foreign.

Next, you notice...

Joel is right there.

Sure, he's a few inches away, but... you could touch his legs if you extended your arm. All it would take is a little bit of wiggling to make a pillow out of his thighs, and you know how much more comfortable than what you have underneath you.

His smile is the last thing you see.

Not because you skipped his face—on the contrary, Joel's face is the first thing you see in the morning and the last you see at night.

Maybe that's why.

He never had this.

A gentle, real smile.

You hardly blame him. There are no reasons to smile nowadays, not for long. Not without sadness poisoning the eyes, or without the grin turning into a grimace.

Joel is smiling.

His dream must be good, because his features all softened somehow.

Good gods, he's handsome.

That's why you look so little at his face. The real reason.

Staring at Joel too much can cause you to think of nothing else, and in month one you learned the lesson of eyes wide open or head blown open wide.

Mistakes meant death.

Joel's eyes crinkled as he lifted one of his mouth's corners in the closest thing that could come off as a 'smile', and that meant distraction, which meant an eventual mistake, and so on.

When your gaze searches for the lines left by his crinkles, Joel's eyes are on you.

As serene as the quietude outside, Joel stares down, and in a contrast to the weather howling cold winds outsides, your body says it is morning, and it rises.

The longer he stares, the more it rises.

Your blood pumps harder under his gaze.

Joel knows that. He has to.

Silence with fixed gazes turns the air into a thick, palpable fog.

Why is he staring? It's probably the busted eyebrow. Busted lip. Joel never stares at you, never looks too long, too hard, never looks enough—

"I can almost hear you thinkin'," Joel's voice is a whisper, but it startles you nonetheless. Not in fear.

Once, somewhere, you read something you never forgot. The body, it always betrays itself. It blushes. It trembles.

It was true.

The shiver is involuntary.

Your mother used to say the sound of sirens meant trouble and ever since, you always heard sirens in your head as you panicked. "Was observin' your hair," laugh, look away, know your place. "It's gettin' whiter."

It gets a chuckle. A tight-lipped smile. "I'm gettin' older."

"So you say." Constantly.

The first reminder of why he kept his distance, probably. Of why he had no interest in you. Too young.

"Doesn't it look like it?"

You shrug, hugging the makeshift pillow tighter under your head. "'m not so sure how old people are supposed to look." Definitely not this good, right? This broad. Soft. Strong "Haven't been around many."

Joel points at himself. "Right here."

"You're not old."

His lip twitches. "No?"

"No."

"I'm over my forties."

"That's not old." You don't know why you're arguing. You never argue.

Joel closes the book, then hums. "I remember the world before it turned to ruins and vines."

Maybe it's because he's so damn close. Your fingers itched to touch him countless times before, but usually, there are more counterarguments in your head as to why you shouldn't. "So do I."

The smile returns to his face, but it's the awake and lucid kind—a little sadistic. Sad. "Let me rectify it—I lived in it."

"So did I." Albeit, not much. "Less than you, though." A decade or so more. Almost two.

"Right." Joel takes a deep breath, and the movement quiets you down.

Sometimes, you wished you had just a few years more. Five, or six would suffice. Would he look at you, then?

As the silence goes on, your mind starts with at least three different scenarios where Joel met you under different circumstances.

"Can't sleep anymore?"

There's no shiver this time, but you look up at him again, desperate to see some more of his sleepy eyes and that damned smile.

"Don't know," you whisper.

If he smiles again, you'll count the night as a win. Tuck his happiness somewhere out in the front of your mind to see if it occupies space. If it makes you think less of what he used to be like as a lover.

The tainted thoughts always make you avert your eyes, but this time, you have the benefit of only candle lights, so you let the embarrassment burn you as you keep staring.

Joel is looking at your face the same way. Heavy eyelids, gaze searching.

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

The question makes your brain swim in the lingering pain, but for other reasons.

Every scenario still opened in your mind leads to the same corridor—he placed his big hands on your neck right now to feel your temperature and caressed somewhere in your body to put you to sleep.

Somewhere he could touch the skin.

Through foggy vision you see Joel starting to frown, so you're quick to answer before he worries.

"'m just uncomfortable." True enough. "Anxious."

He nods. "Makes sense." He exhales slowly, placing the book on the floor next to the mattresses. "It'll take a while to calm down from it. It... they came out of nowhere." You nod. He clasps his hands together on his lap. "It could've been a lot worse."

Your group had a rule. "No what ifs about the past."

Joel made your heart jumpstart all over again by almost doing it—he almost smiled. "Right. Sorry."

"We're both in one piece."

"We are." He looked down at you and then, in a gesture that your entire body freezing on the spot, one of Joel's hands leaves his lap, and makes its way to you. It places on top of your head. In administrated, slow moves, it starts petting your hair. Then, Joel speaks. As if you can listen. "None of us needs penicillin..."

His words seem to trail off.

You need a second longer to relax under his touch. When you do, the tension melts so visibly you might as well be snow under the sun.

This time, the silence is thick.

Liquid.

When his hand moves lower, it ends up on your back, rubbing between the shoulder blades, and clearing the line of sight for his eyes again.

That's when he must see it.

The second he started to touch you, your blood become fuel. You could feel it burning hot inside your veins, moving faster than it ever did with you two alone in a room. The only times it's beaten like this before you were either in life-threatening danger, or muffling your sounds behind your hand as your other did quick work between your legs.

Joel sees it.

Even if the illumination comes only from the candles, he has to see it.

The way your lips parted for him.

There's no way your eyes aren't saying as much as the temperature your body is exuding.

Joel keeps on rubbing circles for a few more seconds, but eventually, he whispers. "What?"

It makes you want to cry.

If you answer, he'll probably do the thing. He'll turn you down gently, politely.

You shake your head, swallowing a lump in your throat. "Nothing." Your eyes sting. I want you so badly it makes me a bit crazy sometimes. Instead of that, you settle for whispering. "How d'you feel?"

It takes him a minute to answer. His eyes keep shifting between where his hand is rubbing and your face. "Good. Hurts less. Unfortunately, that means thinking more."

"Dangerous."

"You have no idea," he chuckles.

This time, the silence lasts. You keep on staring, while Joel is happy to continue making your back and hair feel a tingling warmth they never saw before.

"Is this ok?" he asks eventually.

Without noticing, your eyes had closed.

Always a man of few words. "Of course."

He nods to you. "'kay."

Stay here. Don't go anywhere.

Watch out for her.

Keep close.

Those and okay. The words you most heard over these past months.

When your eyes open again, Joel's hand is traveling back to your hair and this time, the silence between you two becomes a cord.

Tension.

His fingers do careful work once they find your strands—goosebumps rise all over your skin and for the first time, you're thankful for wearing long sleeves even to bed.

You know there are words hanging in the air, begging to be said, but...

Insecurity pulls you back.

Even if your eyes keep locked on his for a small amount of forever, you swallow down your wants and needs in fear of being blinded by your own attraction and ending up projecting yours on him.

All Joel does is stare back.

Maybe if you weren't inexperienced. Maybe if you had any previous knowledge of what intimacy and relationships had been like, but this world was not the same as before and things were... harder.

So you burned in silence.

Eventually, you burned for him in the dark of your sub-conscience.

With the ghost of Joel's hand still on your nape, caressing on top of your hair, you dive into a deep slumber, and it's in dreams that everything cracks.

You're not even present in mind to witness his world shift.

Joel, in silence, watched you going under. Watched those eyes staring up at him with so much said, so much written in between your lines. He watched with his heart pounding in his chest loud enough for him to hear.

When you sleep, he observes with reverence.

Trying to push down the feelings curling up inside him.

That's when he hears it.

Spoken through your glued lips at first, then louder, more confidently. Joel's heard your sleeping mumbles before, but this one is the one that breaks him.

"Joel..." soft. Breathless. Dangerously low. And then, "Joel."

That's when Joel realizes it—late at night, alone in the silence.

It changes something in him.

📝 PART TWO →

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risuola · 6 months

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SKIP SANTA, WE'RE BOTH ON THE NAUGHTY LIST ANYWAY — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who’s always naughty

You aren’t an official couple, more like friends with benefits, but most of your close friends know there’s something going on between you two and it’s all mostly because of how naughty Satoru always is when you’re next to him. He just can’t keep his hands to himself.

cw: suggestive fluff, friends with benefits but really it's just idiots in love, reader discretion is advised — 0,9k words

a/n: with that I'm closing the kissmas event. this one is short, this one is very lighthearted and soft because I just needed some soft Satoru, okay? anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the little kissmas with me, I'll be back soon with regular content 🖤

kissmas masterlist

“But Santa~!” You whined, fighting with your friend and putting all your force into the futile attempt to pull him out of the bed. It was Christmas and Satoru just wouldn’t leave the sheets and no matter how hard you were tugging on his arm, it was getting you nowhere. It also seemed like nowhere is exactly where the two of you will go that day, instead of heading to the mall to see Santa.

“Oh, skip Santa, we’re both on the naughty list anyway,” he rolled his eyes playfully, his face twisted in the beautiful, toothy grin and he moved up from the pillows. False hope that he’ll get up and ready vanished as soon as he used his long arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you back into the bed. You landed on top of his frame, melting into the familiar warmth and laughing at the stubbornness, so characteristic of him.

“Maybe you are on the naughty list, Satoru,” you protested, lifting your head just enough to look him in the eyes. The cerulean orbs, clear and shimmering like gems in the sunlight were fixed on you, and you couldn’t help but feel privileged to see them so often. Gojo’s eyes were pure magic that never failed to captivate you and you were sure, with those eyes, he would be able to convince you to do everything.

“I sure am. And you are the reason I’m on it,” he replied, his tone teasing and matching the smirk on his lips. “But don’t worry, gorgeous, I have a gift for you anyway, even if you’ve been such a bad, naughty girl lately, no need to chase the old guy in red suit.”

“Oh, you don’t get it,” you chuckled, brushing his nose with the tip of your own. His hands were already wandering across your figure, squeezing the fat on your butt and hips.

“Maybe I don’t,” he bucked his head up, chasing the sweet taste of your lips with his own. “Why sit on Santa’s lap when you can sit on mine?” Satoru grinned at the way you moved your head back, just to not let him have the pleasure of kissing you so easily. You were a teaser and he loved it. “Or better,” he purred, grabbing you and flipping both of you around, “you can sit on my di—"

“Satoru!” You let a laugh out, it was a mess, you were tangled in the covers and he was now above you, naked and absolutely not ashamed. “We were supposed to go with the kids.”

“Oh, I’m sure the teenagers also have better plans than to see the Santa imitation,” the man used the tight position you were in to steal the kisses he wanted. Soon, he was flooding you with quick pecks across your face and lips, and down your neck and shoulders. “You can’t possibly envision Megs enjoying the old prick with a fake beard in the mall.”

“You’re saying this because you’re horny,” you said, faking the serious tone, but you couldn’t keep the act long when his eyelashes were tickling your skin whenever he pressed his face against your body.

“As if you’re not,” he purred, his voice vibrating against the most sensitive spot on your neck before he sucked onto it. “Besides, I know you can’t say no to your best friend.”

“Oh, best friends? Is that what we are?” You couldn’t hold back the laugh and Satoru grinned too.

You and Gojo are not a couple. Not officially, anyway, because if you asked anyone who knows you just enough, they would certainly say you’re in relationship. And it felt that too, it felt beautiful, and intimate and oh-so real. Dinners that led to breakfasts, pecks that led to long displays of passion and so many feelings involved into every moment you share made the situation between you two feel very much like a couple. And you love him, so much – in fact, there’s so much love that you feel towards him that it’s nearly impossible to describe in words. You went with him through the good and bad, you experienced the worst and also the best. Every low has always led to an awesome high, no downs went without the ups.

“I don’t care how you wanna call us,” Gojo smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “To me, you are everything.” It was a moment. A seriousness in the blue orbs that made for such rare picture that it took your breath away, before his expression changed yet again. This time, a smile tugged on his lips, a sheepish mixture with smugness. “I could call you my wife. Do you want to be my wife?” He was playful, his grin developing, lightening up his gorgeous features. That idiot.

He made you laugh, yet again you felt like falling in love.

“Your wife, huh?”

“Who would say no to that?” He asked, peeling away the layers of bedsheets between your bodies, and struggling with the tangle of comforters and blankets that he himself created just few moments before. “Having all of this to yourself?” Satoru made a theatrical gesture pointing at his own body from head to toes, making a point of how impressive his entirety is. “Your name with my last name sounds great also. And dick, let’s not forget about my dick.”

“Yeah, right, it’s the dick that does it for me,” you were laughing. The warmth was filling every cell of your body.

“Knew that.”

“You’re an idiot. But I love you, Satoru.”

“I love you too.”

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wooobuddyletsgetnasty · 23 days

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maybe I have some Benedict Bridgerton girlies on here maybe not but I have to get this off my chest with the new season because the man looks good. And don’t think for ONE second that this is anything but self-indulgent.

there is ofc slight porn in here bc WHO DO YOU THINK I AM???

you’ve received your warning, come closer if you dare.

maybe something along the lines of Benedict being a best friend of your older brother, something along the lines of a staple in your household, someone you have grown far too used to seeing.

he is nigh a few summers your senior but still further progressed enough that they hardly allow you to play.

tragedy strikes on your year of three and ten, taking your mother and father, which leads you and your older brother, who is six and 10, to being sent to the countryside to stay until of age, until you are able to care for yourself.

—

it takes seven full summers for the two of you to make way back to the ton— on the eighth year, in the spring, you return— you make your debut with your brother heading the attempt to find a lawful man for you to wed.

that very same spring, you see Mr. Bridgerton again.. but he is different, as are you.

gone is the girl and in her place is a woman.

you are still bright-eyed, despite the tragedy— still quick witted and kind. but you are also different, ethereal— Benedict never realized how your smile lifts your cheeks, never realized how your brow furrows when you speak— Benedict sees you for the first time in years and it feels like he has really, finally seen you.

and he— he is a man now. taller than you remember, more filled out— stout. with strong hands and forearms you linger on longer than you should— something that proves the artist he is. but he is unchanged in mischief, in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, in the way he tries to include you in conversation.

it is in the spring, the spring you return, when you realize— you love Benedict Bridgerton.

—

despite your realization, you note that Mr. Bridgerton will never see you as anything but his best friend’s younger sister. you are put out, saddened by it. but it does not stop you. you cannot, will not be your brother’s burden any longer.

it is then your discrete conversation, your inside jokes, and your admiration of Benedict’s art stops. you cannot be so close to a man if you expect to find a good husband, one that will care for you and make sure you are happy.

Benedict, Ben, will never love you and you are fine with that or at least you can pretend.

—

it does not take long for you to find a prospect, Lord Rothschild. he is kind to you— he listens when you speak, he does not treat you like you are lesser. you are content to marry him, happy even.

but it still feels like it is not enough.

his gaze does not burn through you— does not make you alive— it does not make you feel.

but you are fine— you convince yourself. you could be happy. you could learn to love him.

your engagement seems set in stone.

Lord Rothschild has asked your brother for your hand and you agree. your smile does not pull your cheeks in the way Benedict can make it— but the way your lips turn up when he tells you, it is enough for your brother to be content.

—

Benedict, Ben, he calls on you that very night— the very day your brother speaks with Lord Rothschild and there is something about him that seems urgent, terrified.

you speak to him quietly, your maid a shadow behind you, your gown sways in the light spring breeze, “what are you doing here?”

he pauses, hesitating in his answer, “I-I do not know, I do not know.”

you step closer, peering like someone might see you, “we cannot be seen— I am to be married— you cannot be here, Ben.”

he seems awed, struck in the same way he normally is by you, “i cannot tell you.. but i can show you.” you are rightfully confused but nod hesitantly, “alright, Ben. alright.”

“meet me at Bridgerton house in the early morn.”

you agree without question, hastily turning, nightgown ruffling with the movement, motioning your maid towards the door, “Bridgerton house. i will be there.”

—

you hold true and you come to Bridgerton house in the morn— but you do not end up staying there.

in a carriage surrounded by nothing but a stifling silence, you allow Ben to take you into town. your nerves are pooling in your stomach, making you feel ill— but something in his gaze makes you hold out.

when the carriage comes to a stop, Benedict leads you in a direction you are familiar with, and suddenly, he seems nervous to be standing in front of this building— you have seen it before and it does not help with your confusion.

it is his studio— a place you have spent far too much of your time in, wasting moments, talking about your favorite art piece of his, something abstract, something you do not understand but are happy to look at because he touched it.

“Ben.. what are we doing here?”

he swallows thickly, a nervous habit you have picked up on, “you will see.”

it does not quell your nerves.

—

the inside is different than what you have seen before. gone are the abstract arts and in their place is portraits— so many portraits.

you take a turn around, admiring the ones that are full of color, life. you admire the ones drawn hastily with dark lines and desperation. they are all beautifully done. you are awed by his talent, awed by how well done and intricate they seem.

it strikes you suddenly, quickly as you stare into one— those are all your eyes, your nose, your cheeks.

“Ben,” you pause, attempting to find the words, “are— are these all of me?”

you turn, looking at him with a look he has never seen before. Benedict swallows heavily, voice hesitant when he speaks, “yes, they are all of you.”

you turn back, a new admiration in your gaze, “you have painted me?”

you do not turn back when he speaks, “you are so beautiful, it is hard not to.”

you pause again on the one that seems desperate, the line of your brow drawn crudely, like he feared forgetting, “why me?”

there is a quiver in his voice, “even when i am unable to draw— to paint— i can still imagine you. i imagine you in perfect detail, every time. sometimes it’s only you, only you, i don’t even realize i am doing it— not until you, you with that enchanting smile, are looking back at me.”

your chest tightens, “Ben— please— please, explain what this means.”

there is a waver in your voice this time— echoing the same as his.

he answers steadily, a newfound confidence in his tone. Benedict moves, admiring his own art, “i have seen you millions of ways— millions of emotions,” with his next phrasing, he motions to a different art, art made by his hands, “contempt, sadness, anger, happiness..” his voice trails, “i have seen a million emotions in your face,” his lip quivers when he finally turns to face you, deep eyes turning tender, “and i have loved each of them.”

you shudder, emotion overtaking you, but you do not respond to him, instead allowing him to continue to speak, “i have loved each of them and i will continue to love them— each emotion, every passion— i will never, never finish loving them, loving you.”

you can hear nothing but your heartbeat— nothing but the sound of your ribcage rattling, “you— Ben— i cannot… i cannot do this. Lord Rothschild has asked for my hand. i am meant to be wed.. he will propose soon.”

you are rambling, almost trying to deny him— deny what you feel.

Benedict hardens but does not attempt to move closer to you, “you say you are to wed him,” he pauses, turning desperate, “but do you look at him the way you are looking at me?”

you do not recognize that you are looking at him any other way than normal, not until he quivers under your gaze, “stop. do not continue to look at me that way,” his voice drips with hardly there restraint, “do not— or i will ruin you.”

you break under his equal watch, hands going up in desperation, before landing equally at your side, “you, Benedict Bridgerton, have already ruined me. i cannot marry that man,” you cannot stop the absolute noise of desperation that falls from your lips, “i cannot marry that man— and it is because of you!”

he seems aghast at your words, “me? me!” he swaggers closer to you, some part of him sure that this is what you want and you answer by stepping in to his frame, confirming it is, “yes! you! you and your artworks, you and the way you are leering at me— you and just you, Benedict— you have ruined me. i have nothing left for anyone else,” you quiver, but do not deny yourself the satisfaction of finally admitting it, “i love you— i love you.”

it feels like a prayer— like a secret, like something you should not have shared. it is too late to retract— Benedict closes in on you, lips pressing against yours with an anguish you can taste.

—

it takes a moment of his lips pressing against yours before Benedict is pulling away, hands raising above his head, dark hair shaking with the move of his head, “tell me to stop— tell me to back away, please, please.”

you cannot— you will not. you refuse to deny yourself any longer, “no— Ben, Benedict— no.” when he turns away, you follow, making sure he can see you, see the emotion in your face, “you cannot do this— you cannot show me this and expect us to go back to normal.”

he finds himself unable to turn away from you, instead, he cradles you, hands cupping at the sides of your face in a way you can only describe as tender, and he whispers— he whispers in something you can only describe as salvation, “i love you.”

you answer in a kiss, one that makes him back you into a table, one that makes him lift you high, seating you on a table in the very place he paints— he paints you. his hands grip desperately at your skirts— he is temping you, nothing but sin reeking from every pore, “i love you.”

you squeal a noise unknown to you when he disappears under the fabrics, mouthing at the most sensitive parts of you like they are his supper, “wait! wait! what are you—“ you are cut off by a noise so depraved you do not recognize yourself, “oh! oh!”

you gather your own skirts in your hands, trying to take away burden from him but also trying to find something to grab— something to hold. you need it— need to focus on something other than his quick tongue— you need something to ground yourself against the onslaught of his mouth against the place only husbands are supposed to touch.

“Benedict,” you sound hazy, a feeling in your gut pooling in the way you have only felt your own touch make you, “something is happening!”

he hums against you, against your tender most spot, signaling he knows— he knows and it is supposed to feel like this, that it is supposed to happen this way.

you release your skirts, opting to instead grab at the dark hair on his head, pressing him against the part of you that feels the most— the part that tingles from the base of your spine to the tips of your toes, “oh! Ben! oh!”

you do not need to elaborate, he can tell— he knows, knows you are crumbling from his touch.

he pulls away from you, only when your noises turn in to almost discomfort.

he appears from under your skirts, grin happy and face wet. he watches you for only a moment.

Benedict watches the way your brow eases, worries quelled, watches the way your mouth opens in gasps— from him, because of him.

you heave for air, gasping and heaving and he pauses, taking in the way your face changes with each breath.

“i think i will paint you like this next,” you peer at him, him still lingering between your spread legs, his pretty face framed by the silky fabric of your dress, “but only if you will agree to be my wife.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton #Benedict Bridgerton x reader #send me asks #yes yes yes #shut up rissa

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cosmicstarlatte · 9 months

Note

Your blog and headcanons are living in my brain since i got here, and i just want to say, thank you, i love your work 💕 also, i saw this in other posts (i was in the monster fucker side and end up in the lover side, but im not complaining) about demon relantionship dynamics and i have a question, who of the demons do you think would use an accesory made of something of MC?

TW: blood and hair being used as accesory, demon dynamic being a little disturbing.

Like imagine if with magic MC (safelly) could make jewells with their blood, or in a more victorian way, maybe a bracelet with a lock of their hair. In my mind there would be Satan and Barbatos who have the jewellry always on them but are discret, and then there is Mammon and Asmo who show whatever MC gave them with pride.

Thank you so much anon!!!♡ It's messages like these that keep me motivated, I'm honored!!! 🥰 I hope you don't mind I changed it to just items with blood 😎 I was gonna keep this short originally but ended up getting carried away. This was seriously SO fun to write! I rly think they all would!

Giving Them An Item With Your Blood (Obey Me!)

Tags: Blood, Fluff, Demon Bros, Barb, Dia, GN!Reader, HCs

Lucifer: "Hm? It's from ___."

If someone happens to catch a rare glance at it & are curious enough to ask, he has no problem proudly answering he got the bloody vial necklace from you. He's not shy or ashamed about it, but prefers to keep it between you & him. It usually stays well hidden behind his high collared shirts. Sometimes when he's at home in his office & shirt unbuttoned, he will fidget around with it while doing paperwork. He loves it but won't ever tell you or anyone else how very attached to it he is. ♡

Mammon: "This one!? Not up for betting, scram!"

When isn't Mammon flashy??? The day you gave him the ring filled with some of your blood was basically the day you got married (in his mind) & he went around showing everyone. Of course some of his buddies asked if he'd bet it for a chance at clearing his debt but even that's one bet Mammon refused. He has a ritual of kissing his ring everyday, he thinks of it as his good luck charm even when he's actually having a bad day. He makes you kiss it to add extra luck (love) to it too. ♡

Levi: "I will guard this with my life."

Let's be honest, he doesn't care what it is & would wear/take whatever you give him. Your hairbrush? He will cuddle it.

When you presented him a blood vial bracelet, he got all teary eyed & nearly fainted from excitement. It easily became his most prized possession, he takes such good care of it. He wears it openly & you can see him fidget around with it when he gets anxious. Sometimes he will lightly rub or hold it against his cheek, calming him down when he's overwhelmed. ♡

Satan: "That's what you get for touching things that aren't yours."

His smile was radiant, blinding. Satan's gift is unique just like him & he appreciates the thoughtfulness of a handmade blood infused bookmark. It's one he takes care of & makes sure it doesn't get lost in the mess of his room. He did curse it (you'll get a hand burn) so no one else can touch it except you & him. From time to time he gets distracted by it when reading. He wants to ask if you'll attach a blood charm to the end of it too. ♡

Asmo: "My outfit isn't complete until I put this on!"

He squealed, cried, & wouldn't let you go for the entire day after gifting him the little box of jewelry. He went on to rub it in everyone's faces & showed it off on all his socials. The main gift was a gorgeous charm, the blood swirled, glittering inside. You made sure he could pop the charm into the ring, necklace, or bracelet you also gave him in the box. He was impressed you went to such lengths just so he could always choose how to wear it each day. Even if it was a single piece though, he would've worn it no matter what, even if it "clashed" with his outfit. ♡

Beel & Belphie: "We promise to never take it off." "You promise too ___!"

The twins immediately pulled you into bed & cuddled with you, happily accepting their gifts. You gave each a pendant, a sun for Beel & a moon for Belphie, the middle of each pendant holding your precious red liquid. You even got a star pendant for yourself to match with them although your pendant remained empty; something they noticed quickly. They happily offered up their own blood; they never minded sharing as long as it's with you. ♡♡

Barbatos: "I'm...at a loss for words, thank you."

He kissed your cheek before turning his attention to the golden pocket watch you gave him. He handled it delicately, admiring the ancient designs etched onto it before opening it. It was a gorgeous watch, one of the inner side walls swirled beautifully with your blood. He enjoyed the hidden surprise inside for his eyes only. Truly, he was moved by your gift & made a mental note to give you something in return. ♡

Diavolo: "An absolute treasure this is."

He gave you a tight hug, nearly cutting your air supply off. He's received many gifts throughout the years but the custom pen you gave him was now at the top of the list. Only a see-through compartment of the pen held your blood, floating around. The actual ink inside the pen was regular but refillable for permanent use. He found himself smiling a little more even when filling out the piles of paperwork on his desk. It also finally fixed his habit of losing pens, making sure he always has it on him for quick signing (& Barbatos thanks you for it). ♡

Also I like to think that if they really miss you, they'll hold their object close to their nose to get a whiff of your scent ♡ alakskfgllsskfkg

⬦You might also like: Coffee Shop︱Two A.M.︱Pick-Me-Up

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fic #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹#✩ — the star: anon!

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thebestofoneshots · 6 months

Text

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.1 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: Turns out werewolf scratches make you more than just hungry for food. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 23: Hungry Eyes

November 24th, 1976

“You want more sausages?” James asked as he grabbed another one from the plate. You nodded in response.

“That’s like the 5th one,” Peter said surprised, not because of the sausages exclusively, you had devoured your breakfast, a huge plate of bacon and eggs, a slice of Sheppard’s pie, and a couple of pieces of meat. James thought that was a little odd, since you always went for sweet stuff, rather than salty things, especially on breakfast, but since he had accidentally hurt you earlier, he was ready to give you just about any food you asked for.

You nodded “Yeah I know,” you said as you took another bite of your bacon. “I don’t get it either, It’s like I’m starving, I could eat a hippogriff.”

“Could it be because of the scratch?” Sirius said as he put his tea cup down.

“The scratch?” James asked.

“Yeah, Moony’s scratch.”

“But you’ve gotten scratched by Moony and I’ve never seen you like this,” he said pointing at you.

“Oi, watch your mouth Potter!” you said as you side eyed the boy.

Sirius shook his head “Padfoot has gotten scratches, not me,” he clarified “And I’ve definitely felt the hunger, in more than one way.”

Your head snapped towards the boy, your eyes going up and down his face, trying to describe his expression “Does that mean– does that mean I’m this hungry because… lycanthropy?”

Peter shrugged “It’s possible… Do you by any chance feel the urge to bite one of us?”

You looked at the boy with a bit of a confused expression, the image of you biting Sirius’ neck on the Restricted Section floating in your head before you could control it, you swallowed. “No,” you managed to respond.

“Then we’re good,” the boy said with a smile “Should go away in a couple of days.”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah, hopefully,” you added and took a bite of your sausage. “Do you think Remus’s really hungry all the time too?”

“Not always,” said James thoughtfully “but when he gets snappy close to the moon, food makes him feel better.”

“And after?”

“He likes chocolate,” Sirius responded.

“Yeah… I kinda figured that one out earlier on,” you said with a little smile “I meant, do you think he wants… meat too?”

James shrugged, “Maybe, I’ve never asked.”

“But surely you would’ve noticed.”

“It’s James you’re talking about, luv. He wouldn’t have noticed,” Sirius said.

“You’re being overly aggressive towards me today,” James huffed, your boyfriend shrugged in response.

“We should take him some meat,” you said, snapping both boys from their bickering “If he’s half as hungry as I am, he needs some meat.”

“We’ve got charms next, though.”

“I can go and come before charms,” you said confidently, “and I want to go to the bathroom too so…”

“You sure, want us to come with?” James asked.

“Nah, nah… you boys keep eating and save a good seat for me.”

“Yes, boss!” Peter joked.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, leaning in to pick your backpack up, but Sirius stopped you, grabbing it himself. You tried to pull it again but he didn’t budge “What’s with you?”

“I’ll take it, you don’t need any strains on your shoulders at the moment.”

You gave him an incredulous look “Sirius I can carry my own bag, even with the thing.”

“I’m not saying you can't, sweetheart. I’m saying you don’t have to,” he said softly, “Go on and do your thing, I’ll bring your bag to the class.”

“You sure about that?” you asked again.

“Ugh, just let him do the boyfriend thing,” James said as he pushed you lightly, this time being careful not to graze your arm “Don’t you see he’s trying?”

You looked at Sirius surprised “Is that what...” You saw a tinge of red spread across his cheeks, and you raised your eyebrows, “Awww Puppy that’s so sweet of you.”

Sirius looked to the side for a second, almost letting the embarrassment get to him but then he turned back at you with a little smirk “Don’t I get a kiss for it?”

You smiled, looking at him as you bit your lip in amusement and narrowed your eyes at the boy, but complied, leaning in to give him a small peck on the forehead, before turning around to pick up the plate with food you had prepared for Remus.

“That’s not the kind of kiss I was expecting little Vixen,” Sirius teased.

“Guess it sucks for you, doesn’t it Puppy?” You teased back with a little wink, while James burst out into a laugh. “Save my seat, all right?” you said just before walking towards the doors.

You went straight to the infirmary, sneaking in without making much noise, but Madam Pomfrey spotted you as you were walking in, “Hi sweetheart,” she said with a smile “You’ve come for Remus again?”

“I have class, but I thought he might be feeling a little hungry so I brought this over,” you said raising the plate just a little “It’s not against doctor’s orders, is it?”

“Not at all, darling,” she responded. “I was just about to call for a house elf to get his breakfast, it’s very kind of you to bring it.”

You handed the plate to the Mediwitch and then looked towards the section at the end, the curtains were still wrapped around the bed Remus was in, “May I see him?”

She shook her head, the same frown as earlier “I’m afraid he’s still asleep sweetheart, why don’t you come back later?”

You sighed “Is he really? Well, I guess I’ll get to class then,” you said as you turned your heel, but turned straight back “Oh, please give this to him too,” you said taking out a bar of chocolate from your robe’s pocket “He really likes this one.”

The witch nodded, “Will do darling.”

You waved your goodbyes and left the room, as you did the Mediwitch approached Remus’ section and opened the curtains, looking at the boy expectantly “You should stop avoiding the poor girl,” she told him sternly as she placed the chocolate bar on his side table “She’s clearly worried for you.”

Remus didn’t answer, he just cleared his throat a little.

“Don’t act like a child Remus, you always seem to be better off when she’s around, you even sleep better,” she continued, “at least Mr. Black came to visit you last night, and you didn’t avoid him.”

“If she comes back, tell her I’m still asleep, okay?” he said, still avoiding her gaze.

“She’s not stupid, she will know something’s up.”

Finally, Remus turned to the woman, a distressed expression on his features “Please,” he pleaded.

The woman shook her head disapprovingly and pointed towards the food “She brought you food and your favourite chocolate. You should at least write her a thank you note.”

Remus looked to the side, staring at the bar of chocolate the woman had left. It really was his favourite kind of chocolate, and it made his stomach churn. He didn’t deserve you as a friend, not only because of the way he desired you beyond belief –even if you were with Sirius, who he also liked– but because he could’ve killed you a couple of nights ago. Your friendship had to end before the damage was irreparable.

Remus was being completely irrational, but he didn’t care much for rationality at this point. He turned on his bed, back to the nightstand and sighed, shutting his eyes as he felt some strain on his ribs from the sharp movement. He was holding back angry tears, angry for not being a normal bIoody person with normal bIoody problems. Angry for being a monster that made their friends go through dangerous situations. Angry because he knew that Moony’s intentions had never been to kill you, no, Moony wanted to bite you.

You were back at the girl’s bathroom, you had taken your robe, uniform sweater and shirt off, and you were staring at your bandaged arm in the mirror when Myrtle’s face popped right over your reflection, which startled you a little, “Told you it was a dangerous night,” she said proudly.

You scoffed “If you knew the Slytherins were out you could’ve warned me,” you said angrily.

“I told you, you weren’t the only one roaming the castle,” she said with a shrug as she sat down on the sink.

You shook your head, “being a bit more specific wouldn’t have hurt,” you said as you raised your bandage to check on the wound. It looked a little better than the previous night.

She shrugged again “Would I have actually deterred you from going?”

You looked to the side as you fastened the edge of the bandage again “Probably not,” you admitted.

“Yeah, I figured,” she said simply “Did you find the thing you went looking for, before getting attacked? Or… are you going back to the forest next full moon?”

“I did get it,” you said, now a little proud, putting your shirt back on.

“Well, mission accomplished, and you didn’t lose any limbs so…”

You half laughed at their stupid joke, “pleasure talking to you Myrtle,” you said as you finished putting on your sweater and tie, taking your robe in between your hands, and walking out.

“Come back soon,” the ghost replied. “I might have some gossip for you then.”

You turned back to look at her, narrowing your eyes as she simply floated slightly over the floor, with a tight-lipped smile, a hand behind her back and the other one waving goodbye at you. You knew what she wanted, she wanted you to stay and get the gossip out of her, “I’ve got to get to class,” you told her.

She shrugged, “I said later,” she smiled, still waving goodbye.

You shook your head diverted but continued on your way out, as you walked to Charms, you put your robe back on and then felt your stomach churn again “What the bIoody fuck?,” you whispered as you looked down “How can I be hungry again?”

You ignored the churning and walked straight to Charms. Sirius was at one of the double tables, and he had placed your backpack on the seat beside him, he smiled when he spotted you and moved your bag to the floor, you sat down beside him “How’s he?” he asked.

You shook your head “Still asleep,” you replied, “Pomfrey didn’t let me see him either.”

Sirius frowned, Remus had rarely slept so much, not even after the moon. And he had seen the boy earlier, he didn’t look so bad he’d have to sleep, maybe Pomfrey had given him some other kinds of potions along with the Skellegro.

You looked at Sirius’ thoughtful expression and pressed your thumb over his eyebrows “What is it Puppy?”

That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, “Nothing, how’s the arm?”

You tilted your head a little, still admiring your boyfriend before responding “A lot better actually,” you said honestly “I actually went to check, it’s healing now.”

Sirius let out a relieved breath, “that’s great,” he smiled and pulled his hand up to grab yours, intertwining his fingers with your own and leaning his head a little into your palm. “You’re cold.”

“Washed my hands earlier,” you said simply. Sirius was about to say something when Flitwick entered the classroom with a bag in his hand and a set of books trailing behind him, once he left the bag on the floor he flicked his wand and the books floated towards all the students, one for each table, which meant you’d be sharing with Sirius. When the book was right in front of the two, Sirius separated your intertwined hands and used them to pull your chair closer to his.

You shook your head at his antics but smiled either way. The class went on smoothly, you had to practise a couple of new spells on the book, but it was all too easy for the two of you, which is why you had spent most of the class just stealing glances at the other. You imagined if you had been the one watching the two of you, you would’ve probably averted your gaze. It’s not that you were openly showing the PDA, but it was evident in your giggles and whispering about. On the way, Sirius held your hand and brushed his shoulder against your good one. Maybe you really were Love Puppies.

“Are you still hungry?” he asked as the class finished.

You nodded in response, still feeling your stomach churn, “Wanna get some food before transfiguration?”

“McGonall will be mad if we get there late.”

Sirius shrugged, so carelessly that it made you smile “She secretly loves us.”

You scoffed “I highly doubt that, you’re always messing around and I’m shit at transfiguration.”

“You’re not that bad, you turn into Vixen gracefully.” You shook your head again, a smile playing on your lips. “So… food?”

You took a deep breath and nodded “Yeah, food.”

Sirius and you took a detour to the kitchens, Nimbletwist wasn’t there at the time, but another elf was more than happy to help the two of you with some treats. A small paper bag with mixed nuts, raisins and bits of chocolate and a couple of bite-sized sandwiches you could easily fit into your robe. You had already eaten around three of those by the time you got to Transfiguration.

McGonagall eyed you compassionately as she noticed you were eating a piece of chocolate. You frowned, but quickly remembered Lily had told her you were on your period so you smiled instead, nodding a little with a thankful expression, she let you both enter the class, and you ended up sitting on the table next to the one Lily and Marlene shared.

“Told you she loves us,” Sirius said with a little smirk.

“That’s definitely not it,” you said as you plopped a pecan into your mouth, it was a little salty, but it was definitely good enough to quench your unfaltering hunger.

The class came and went, you managed to turn a teapot into a small squirrel once, after hundreds of tries. Sirius had already done it way too many times and he was attempting to help, but he wasn’t really good at teaching Transfigurations.

“Come on, just wave your wand and say the words.”

You turned to him exasperated as you shook your wand in the air “Sirius I’m waving my wand and saying the words, it doesn’t work!”

“Just do it calmly.”

“I AM doing it calmly!” you said, and he threw you a look, which had you huff in return.

“Black and company,” McGonagall said sternly “You either stop your bickering or I will switch your seats.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, Sirius on the other hand, placed his chin over his hand and stared at McGonagall with a teasing smile, giving her a wink before turning back at you, you almost smacked him for that, but he gave you his stupid charming Sirius Black grin and you barely managed to roll your eyes. You definitely were Love Puppies.

When the class was over, Lily leaned over to you “Hey Luv, you mind coming with me to pick out some ingredients for potions?”

Sirius gave the redhead a look, the kinda face that said “You shouldn’t make her walk more than necessary” and Evans retorted with a look and a gentle hand over your injured shoulder, clearly stating something like “I’m going to take her to fucking change her bandaged you idiot”.

“Righ, you should go,” Sirius said then, pushing you lightly towards Lily while she pulled on your hand. You felt like you were being manhandled, but said nothing of it, and just followed the redhead along.

“I’ll tag with you,” said Beth, as she stood up.

“No!” Sirius stopped her “We actually need to talk about the lack of birthday party I had.”

“After the Halloween Party fiasco there was no way in hell we made yours Sirius,” she said.

“I’m aware,” he smiled wickedly “but that doesn’t mean we can’t do one now, if you know what I mean.”

Beth smiled wickedly and Lily pulled you towards the door while Sirius distracted her. In a matter of minutes the two of you were back at the common room and walking up towards your empty room, “How are you feeling?”

“Wicked!” you replied with a smile “It’s not every day you get first class healthcare.”

Lily rolled her eyes but started unwrapping the bandage, gently cleaning the wound before starting to reapply the paste. “It does look better,” she said as she continued with her task.

You nodded “Feels a lot better too.”

Her hands were light, and her movements were quick, and calculated as if she knew exactly what step she was going to go next, you were looking at the way she did almost completely in trance, if you were good at flying, Lily was brilliant at caring for injuries, it almost surprised you it was Mary and not her who wanted to become a Mediwitch.

“Have you taken your medicine?” She asked, stealing you away from your thoughts, you nodded, showing her all the small vials you had placed in the pocket of your robe, “Good.”

“We need to actually pick some ingredients up,” you said as you started to put your shirt back on.

Lily nodded and went to her trunk, taking out a few potions from it “Already thought of it,” she said with a smile.

You smiled back, grabbed a couple of them between your hands and started walking towards the dungeons. You arrived sooner than later and the two of you went straight into the classroom. She took a seat beside James and you turned to your lonely table. You started gathering the ingredients for the potion you would be working on when Professor Slugnorn approached your table “Oh dear, Mr. Lupin is still recovering, isn’t he?”

You nodded “Indeed, but I’m sure I can mana–“

“–No, not with this potion, I’m afraid not. But it’s your lucky day, as it seems someone else has also lost their partner today. Mr. Rosier, would you mind moving your things over here?” he said, turning to the boy.

You instantly stiffened, Sirius stood from the stool he was lousily sitting on and James stood straighter, Lily looked at you with her breath hitched and even Peter stared at Evan intently. “I’m sure I can manage sir–”

“Nonsense, Evan will make a fine partner for today’s class,” he said, shutting you down instantly.

You swallowed and followed the blonde boy with your gaze as he sat down on the stool beside you gracefully, looking like a completely civil person who didn’t hate your guts. Like he hadn’t dug his fingers so harshly in your skin less than 72 hours ago that he left bruises behind.

You were still tense, jaw clenching as you continued measuring ingredients, “You look delightful sweetheart,” you cringed, still not turning your eyes to him. The way he said it –mockingly, disdainfully– sounded so different from the way Sirius said it, like it was an entirely different word. “Considering…”

You held back a scoff, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, slowly turning to him, pretending to be completely unbothered, you could feel your friend’s eyes on you “Couldn’t say the same thing for you,” you responded, making sure to add a cold smile in the end “don’t tell me it still hurts where I accidentally elbowed you.”

Evan scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you, not failing to notice the fact that you had added “accidentally” as if it really hadn’t been your intention. “It’s fine, thanks for your concern… How was your night then?” he asked viciously.

“Invigorating,” you responded as you poured some ingredients inside your cauldron. “I was surprised you didn’t stay and enjoyed the show.”

He gave you a spiteful look “As if you didn’t know why we left.”

“What? Were you lot actually afraid of the ghosts?! I’m sure we could’ve had a very nice tea party with the undead, 3 am is their tea time, you know?”

He frowned, you really didn’t know. “Your jinx,” he said “Something stung Mulciber and he passed out, that’s why he’s not here.”

That actually sprung a genuinely satisfied smile “Aaaah… so that’s why you were paired up with me then, your henchmen’s bedridden,” you mocked.

Evan’s fists tightened but he took a deep breath again, she’s bold, he thought. You had the sharpest tongue he’d ever seen, looking at him daringly as if you had no fear, just like that night. If you had been sorted into Slytherin, you might have made an excellent ally, perhaps even a friend. Regardless, he retorted “As if you’re much better, I can clearly see your parted lip, and…” He leaned over “I wonder if you have any bruises under your robe.”

An idea popped into your head, probably a stupid one, but you knew it would piss him off “Well, well Evan, and here I thought you were dating Barty, I’m certain he wouldn’t be pleased if he heard that you’re not only looking at my lips but also thinking of me naked.”

He was taken aback by your daring answer, his nose flared, and his knuckles turned white, you stood straight, looking at his hand as you took a slow breath, he then moved closer to you, pretending to reach for an ingredient on the other side of the table, when he grabbed your arm –your hurt arm– harshly, as harshly as he had grabbed your neck. You ground your teeth against each other to hold back a cry. Even if the pain was excruciating, even if you wanted to jump back and hide in the cold rock again, you limited yourself to breathing slowly. You were not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were hurt, of knowing you had pretty much clung to Sirius for almost an entire day after because you were too terrified of how weak you had been.

He leaned in, mouth close enough to your ear to whisper “If you tell a single sentient thing about that, you will wish we had killed you that night instead,” he spoke, words laced with venom.

You blinked a couple of times, staring at his blond hair completely shocked for a second, managing to recover a second later, as he was pulling away, you had already shut your mouth but you were still staring at the boy, the pain in your arm long forgotten as gears inside your head turned, you had said as a joke but… Rosier really is dating Barty Crouch, your own voice resonated inside your head.

He released his grip on your arm and brushed over your cloak to smooth it out, the pain was still there, you were sure he had drawn bIood, but you limited yourself to stare at him. Out of all the things you’d expected to be Evan’s weakness, you did not think it would be something you wouldn’t use against him. There was a line you wouldn’t cross, and outing him and Barty was way beyond the other side, no matter how awful they both were.

That didn’t mean you wouldn’t use the opportunity to taunt him “Don’t worry Rosier, I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, sarcastically, smiling wickedly before turning back to your potion. You saw Evan flinch out of the corner of your eye. Which made your smile widen, you rolled your shoulder and held back a wince as you used your good arm to continue working on the potion.

Neither you nor Evan talked to each other after that, you silently passed the ingredients, measured and mixed everything in the cauldron together. When you were about to be done, Professor Slughorn approached you, a pleased look on his face “Would you look at that?” he said pointing at your hand as you poured the mixture into a vial “May I?” he asked, you handed him the vial and he took it in between his hands, bringing it close to his face to revise it “You both have done a splendid job, seems like you two work together seamlessly, perhaps you should consider switching partners, you make an excellent pair.”

You saw Sirius tense from the corner of your eye, but you smiled instead “As wonderful as Evan here was to work with, I’m sure Crouch would miss his partner,” you saw Evan’s breath hitch “Or is it Mulciber? I always confuse their little group...” you added in the end, playing dumb.

“It’s Mulciber darling,” Slughorn said “Are you certain?”

“Positive,” you added then. “Either way, I’d rather work with Remus, that way all the points we earn will go to our house and not be shared between the two.”

Slughorn smiled “I do love seeing a competitive spirit, well then, you may clean up and retire earlier.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you told him with a charming smile. You stood up, gaining distance between you and the blond and started gathering all the pots and vials you had used to take them to the sink. Evan gathered the ingredients and started accommodating them in their places as well. As you walked towards the sink Sirius quickly caught up with you, taking like three things, one of which Severus was still using which caused him to stare daggers at the boy.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” he asked, brows furrowed in concern. Sighing with a small smile as you heard the nickname from his lips, making the difference you had noticed earlier so much more starker, that you really believed it was an entirely different word.

You nodded, “He’s an asshole, but he’s not stupid,” you said as you dropped the things in the sink and waved your wand so they would start scrubbing themselves clean. Sirius dropped his as well, and walked closer, placing his hand on the small of your back protectively as you watched the vials and pots wash themselves, “he’s nothing more than empty threats.” Sirius threw you a look, threats hadn’t been empty when they threw you into the shrieking shack and left bruises all over your body. You swallowed, “He wouldn’t do anything with the head of his house around.”

Sirius sighed, he wanted to tell you to stop trying to pick a fight with them, but he very well knew you weren’t, or rather, the fight had already started and you either played along and defended yourself or allowed them to lock you up in haunted houses and threaten you until they got bored. There was no way on earth you’d do the latter, he knew because he wouldn’t either “What did you talk about?”

You smiled proudly at that “Turns out the one spell I managed to use against one of them, left him bedridden, and I’m like 80% sure Evan has a bruise just as bad as some of mine on his stomach where I elbowed him.”

Sirius almost shook his head, smiling incredulously at the way you said that, the only reason you were standing still was because you had been slathered in potions and draughts, your arm was torn and you still found it hard to walk and yet, you were proud of the mild damage you had done to them “I knew you had put up a fight,” he cheered with a smile.

You smiled back as you stared into his eyes and bit your lip “You and slime-head done?”

“Almost. Why?”

You pouted “Wanted to get outta here. Maybe we can go see how Remus is fairing up now and… I’m starving.”

Sirius smiled “Then let’s go.”

“You’re ditching Severus?”

He shrugged, “He’d be happier without me anyway.”

You stared at him for a second and nodded, the two of you left the classroom together. Which not only made you happy Sirius was with you but also made you feel a lot more relaxed, since Evan wouldn’t dare to mess with the two of you at the same time by himself. That, you didn’t tell Sirius about.

“Great hall and then Remus?” Sirius asked as you arrived at the moving stairs.

“Or kitchen, Remus and then great hall?” You suggested.

“You wanna bring more food to him, don’t you?”

“If being so hungry really is from the scratch, he must be a LOT more hungry than I am,” you said logically.

“It’s your call,” he said as he started walking down the stairs that led you to the kitchens “How’s the arm?”

“It’s good,” you said, you’d taken another dose of the painkiller potion so you could finish your brew after Evan crushed your arm, and because you were on a double dose, you didn’t even feel a thing at that point, you’d probably be told off by Sirius if he were to find out, so you decided to leave that information out “super.”

Sirius squinted his eyes at you but nodded in the end. Perhaps I should check on it later, you thought as you gave your arm a quick look, but you were quickly distracted by the smell of food coming from the kitchens. This time around Nimbletwist was there, and upon hearing you say you’d been craving meat, she prepared a meat pie, Porchetta, hock & pork pies and even Venison pie.

“Thank you,” you told her with a smile.

“So ye’ become stronger, Master,” she said with a smile.

Sirius and you walked out of the kitchen and you were already munching on one of the pies as you walked towards the infirmary. You were the one to enter first, pushing the door with your hurt hand since you still didn’t feel a thing. Sirius was about to say something but Madam Pomfrey was staring at you from the other side already.

“Oh! Hey sweetheart, you’ve come back!” She said, almost emphasising the last couple of words. Which you thought was a little weird, but decided to ignore it. “And you’ve brought Mr. Black along, Remus’ two favourite people.”

You smiled “Oh, don’t tell James or he’ll be jealous,” you joked, and Madam Pomfrey smiled a little wider.

“Mr. Potter better worry about taking care of himself on the pitch instead of who’s Mr. Lupin’s favourite.”

“I’ve never really seen him in the infirmary…” you said both Sirius and Madam Ponfrey laughed.

“Their lot has been over so often I’d say their house is the infirmary room instead of the Gryffindor Tower.”

“Pomfrey, don’t say such things in front of my girlfriend,” Sirius chastised, the woman didn’t seem to mind Sirius’ informal manner, but she was a little surprised by what he said, not that she let it on. So that’s it, that’s why Remus doesn’t want to see the new girl, she thought. And she wasn’t completely wrong on that one either, she was very perceptive, but at least not enough to be able to tell you were hurt, and that the thing that hurt you had been Remus.

“He’s gotta be awake now, right?” The woman sighed and shook her head in response. You frowned, starting to worry, perhaps you really had hurt him a lot more than–

“–Why don’t you go see him? He’s asleep but you could leave the things you brought on his side table.”

“May we?” you asked hopeful.

The woman nodded, at least that way Remus would realise his friends were deeply worried for him.

“Thanks, Poppy!” Sirius said as he walked behind you and towards Remus’ bed. The woman just shook her head at his antics as she saw the two of you walk towards the boy and sighed.

“Hey Moons!” he said a little too loud and casually which earned him a smack from your part, from your hurt arm at that. He turned to you with a shocked expression.

“He’s asleep, let him rest.”

“He’s been sleeping all day!” Sirius argued, voice still a little too loud, “I’d say it’s about time to wake up! He was asking about you all night last night, might as well see you’re fine with his own bIoody eyes.”

“Sirius!” you said sternly, which somehow got him to shut up “If he’s asleep it’s because he’s tired, and if he’s tired it’s because I jinxed him and then had the whomping willow hitting him on the side,” you whisper shouted, pointing at his bandaged stomach “let. him. sleep.”

Sirius sighed but didn’t continue to argue. “You should just wake him,” he whispered, “‘m sure he’d love to see you.”

“For some reason, I’m starting to doubt that,” you responded as you stared at the boy, and leaned in to leave the plate with food on the side table, staring at the untouched chocolate bar and taking one from your pockets to leave it on top. Two chocolates are always better than one chocolate.

“You think he’s really alright?” you asked as you turned to Sirius, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

Still more worried about him than herself, Sirius thought as he brought you into a careful hug “He’ll be fine, I promise,” he said as he rested his chin on your head. “Still hungry?”

You nodded, “Very.”

“Let’s go to our next stop then,” Sirius said, taking your hand in his and dragging you towards the door. You gave Remus’ laying figure one last look and finally turned to the door and walked alongside the longer-haired boy.

As the two of you walked towards the Great hall, you started staring at your boyfriend, he hadn’t worn his tie that day, and his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, you barely got a peak of his neck, most of the shirt was kept closed with his school vest and robe, but for some reason you couldn’t stop staring. In fact, you even felt your mouth dry as you kept looking. Yeah, you were still hungry, just a different kind of hungry.

“We should take a shortcut,” you said suddenly.

Sirius raised one of his eyebrows, “You that hungry?”

“Oh… I’m starving,” you replied, an air of mischievousness in your tone that Sirius took for a side effect of hunger rather than for what it really was. You pulled him towards a corner and then through a portrait, Sirius looked at you with raised eyebrows, you had memorised most of the map Remus had given you by now, and while you were not familiar with every single one of the secret passages in the castle, you were familiar with this one. You went up a couple of stairs and then turned, softly pulling Sirius against you, using your bad arm, which he was about to point out, but you crashed your mouth against his own, holding him towards you as he almost stumbled back.

Sirius was a little shocked at first, but he’d never pass up a chance to kiss you, let alone hold you, so he carefully placed his hand around your waist and brought you a little closer, deepening the kiss, which had you smile, lips curling against his for a second before continuing the kiss. You started peppering kisses all over his face, a small trail towards his neck, allowing your teeth to graze against his neck as you kissed. His neck was so soft, especially compared to the rest of him, his muscly arms, strong torso and grip, which he seemed to be holding back in that instance. But not his neck, it was soft and tender and it smelled like him.

When you wanted to bite, you managed to hold yourself back and trailed kisses back to his mouth instead “Hey luv,” he said before your lips crashed against each other “Are you sure you… I mean doesn’t your arm–“

You didn’t let him finish, pressing your mouth against his again, like you were starving, and you really were. Starving and hot, so hot it felt like June instead of November, so you took the one button of your robe off and slid it off your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor as you brought your hands to the back of Sirius’ neck and dragged his face closer to yours.

Sirius wasn’t sure you’d ever kissed him like that, heck, he wasn’t sure he’d ever kissed anyone like that. Except maybe for Moony, that one-time last year they were so drunk and got dared by Marlene, who promised to buy them treats if they did. That should’ve been enough to make him notice what was actually going on, but Sirius was too focused on the way your hands were pulling on his hair, and the way your hands were angling his head whichever way you pleased. It sent a rush down his spine, Sirius was already so infatuated with you that any kiss would make him swoon, but this kiss was something else. He was the one to take the lead most of the time with you; and with every other girl he’d been with, at least. But this was different, and for some strange reason, he liked it.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked in between kisses, as you fumbled with your sweater.

That made the boy frown. He thought it was rather chilly, actually. At least a tad colder than in the castle, since the passageways didn’t have the same heating spells as the more public sections. But then you pressed yourself against him, and the faintest little moan escaped your lips, which was enough to tip him over the edge. He grabbed you by the waist and pushed you into the cold wall of the staircase, walking up to the same step you were on, to tower over you, now being he who pressed kisses down your neck, he wanted you to make that sound again.

As he continued peppering wet kisses down your neck, he realised there was still the faintest shadow of stupid Evan’s grip on your neck and it both pissed him off and gave him an idea, he placed his lips right on top and started sucking as he kissed, grazing your skin with his teeth, his grip on your waist tightening a little as he did, eyes closed shot as he enjoyed how close he was to you.

“Ah… Sirius,” you breathed.

He stopped sucking, kissing the spot softly before asking, hot breath against your skin “You don’t like it?”

Your eyes were blown as you panted “No… I meant– I–it was a… I definitely liked it,” you managed to say before pushing him back down. Sirius’ idea was simple, when you looked at your neck again, you wouldn’t think of Evan’s vicious fingers, instead, you would think of him, and this staircase, and how good he planned to make you feel.

As he continued with his task, you started to fumble with your sweater again, loosening your tie and unbuttoning a few of your own shirt’s buttons, but your sweater was in the way so you started unbuttoning that as well. Sirius realised and helped, gently pulling it from the sides of your arms, trying not to brush too much against your hurt arm, but that’s when he realised– the entire area was wet and sticky.

He quickly separated his lips from your neck and pulled back, you whined, and he would have responded with something cocky had it not been because he saw your arm first, your once white shirt had a dark red mark near your shoulder, a stark contrast with your lust filled face, you didn’t look like you had an ounce of pain, which was even more worrying to him.

“Darling your arm!” He choked out.

“What’s with it?” you asked, still focused on him, lips slightly parted, breath still heavy.

“It’s bleeding,” Sirius informed, worry evident in his voice, you blinked at his words, still a little distracted by him.

Finally, you turned to look at your arm “Oh.”

“Oh?! What do you mean “Oh”, didn’t you feel it?!”

You averted your gaze, as you gulped, “I might have taken another dose of painkillers,” you mumbled as you looked towards the wound, it was right where Evan had dug his hand earlier, no wonder it had hurt you so much.

“What?” Sirius asked, leaning closer to you again since he hadn’t heard.

“I took another dose of the painkiller potion,” you repeated, louder this time. “Let’s just say it hurt a little too much and I didn’t want Evan to realise I was in pain.”

He sighed, he definitely understood why you’d done it, not that it made it any better “Let’s go check that one,” he said as he leaned down to grab your robe and sweater.

You sighed, you’d rather kiss him instead, but he was right. “There are bandages in my backpack,” you said pointing at it, Sirius had slung it around his shoulder earlier, “I can switch them up in the bathroom and–“

“–by yourself?”

“Well, I was planning to do it earlier, can’t keep bothering Lily whenever something like this happens.”

Sirius shook his head “Don’t be stubborn and let us help,” he said looking straight at you “That’s what friends are for. I swear sometimes you’re as stubborn as Moony.”

“Yeah, but you like that about me,” you said with a wink, which got a diverted laugh from him. He grabbed onto your hand and guided you up the stairs until you reached what looked like an abandoned office. There was a huge window with enough light to allow you to switch the bandages comfortably. You sat on the old wood desk and you started to unbutton your shirt, taking just that sleeve off and using a spell to remove the bIoodstain.

You started trying to find the end of the bandage, but Sirius stepped in, finding it with ease and taking it off himself instead. He cleaned the wound with the same bandage. Using the parts that weren’t already stained with bIood and aguamenti.

Sirius pulled a clean roll from your bag, and carefully started wrapping it around your arm. When he was done you smiled and pulled him into a hug, digging your face into his chest “Thank you,” you mumbled, he embraced you back carefully, making sure not to even brush over your arm.

“Just let me care for you, all right?” He whispered as he leaned his head closer to yours. You half nodded and then your stomach rumbled.

“Are you the other kind of hungry now?” he asked with a little smirk, you hit him on the side lightly and he let out a dramatised “Ouch!”

“You’re the one that insisted on stopping, I might have had my good fill.”

It was now his turn to raise his eyebrows “Starshine, you have no clue what that sounds like to me.”

You giggled, realising the innuendo in your words “Maybe I do,” you teased, which just caused Sirius to laugh, she’s unbelievable, he thought. You could feel the rumbling on his chest.

He then pulled away from you, lifting you slightly from the desk and bringing you to stand right in front of you, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you towards one of the dark hallways “Alright little vixen, let’s get you something to eat.”

You almost rolled your eyes at the nickname but followed the boy, casting a quick “evanesco,” over the red-stained bandages Sirius had left on the floor.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the Great Hall, most of your friends were there too, Peter had even separated a plate for you with a couple of pieces of meat and the same sausages you were feasting on in the morning.

“Thanks Wormy,” You said as you sat down in front of him and next to James who passed you a goblet with some juice.

“How’s Rem?” you heard Tom ask as he arrived, “Went to check on him this morning since he’s helping with some of my charms homework, but you guys went before coming here, right?”

You turned to Tom a little surprised, a sausage halfway into your mouth when you pulled it back down again “You went to see Remus in the morning?”

“Yeah!” he said, “had a nice chat too, he said he should come back to classes tomorrow, he’s feeling a lot better, but you probably already knew.”

You gulped, a frown evident in your face “You talked to him?” Tom nodded.

“Didn’t you just come from the infirmary?” he asked.

“He was asleep,” you explained, your face was serious as you stood a little straighter, replaying the events of the day in your head. Sirius, who had been looking at you could practically see the gears turning in your head, he had already noticed something was off with Remus sleeping so much. “At what time did you go?” you asked then, tilting your head just a little, looking at him with a calm expression, a bit of a smile in the end, even. A mask, Sirius realised.

“‘bout 6:30, just before class.”

“Oh… And he… was awake?”

Tom nodded, and it gave you the impression Remus hadn’t even been sleeping “Why?”

He’s avoiding me, you realised. “Nothing, just curious,” you added “Seems every time I go he’s asleep, must have really bad timing.”

Sirius gave you a look “Wanna try again?” he asked you, you shook your head in response.

“Maybe after Herbology,” you said after popping another sausage into your mouth, trying to look uninterested. Even if, as you chewed, your mind was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts. The possibility that he woke up around the time Tom arrived and went back to sleep before you arrived made sense, for it to happen one time, so the chance that you were overreacting was still plausible.

But then you remembered the guilty look on Madam Pomfrey’s face when you went to visit and the uneasy feeling at the pit of your stomach grew. What if it hadn’t been a coincidence? You hadn’t talked to Remus at all after he turned, barely managing to see him get dragged away by James and Peter. The last thing he’d told you to do was to stop being stubborn and bomb the shit out of him, you cringed at the memory: Remus crouching on the floor, groaning in pain as he attempted to persuade you to murdеr him.

And what had you done instead? You had pushed him around, had him chase you through the passageway, gotten the Whomping Willow to launch him to the side causing his ribs to crack, and then had him chase you through the forest until you literally placed the wand he had specifically given you to use against him in the floor because you thought it could appease the beast. Then Prongs came around and had to gore him one too many times and then you hid under a rock as he waited outside, angry and in pain.

He had told you not to go to the woods, he had told you how dangerous it was. And you didn’t listen, and now he was hurt and probably in a lot of pain, definitely a lot more than you were, that was for sure. Yeah, I’d be pissed too, you thought as you shook your head.

You didn’t regret your actions, not at all, you had gotten the flower, and it was now on Kless’ hands. That could definitely help Remus in the long run, but if you thought things through his point of view, you certainly understood why he would be avoiding you, if he was indeed doing it.

“I’m not gonna let him,” you whispered, determination laced your words.

“What was that luv?” Sirius asked, leaning in closer, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Oh nothing, we should probably get to herbology,” you said, grabbing a napkin and passing it over your mouth.

After class, you went to check on Remus, and when you were there Pomfrey told you that he had just taken a sleeping draught because he had a severe headache. You peered through the curtain and spotted the two chocolates, still in their place, unwrapped.

You took a deep breath and nodded, “Would you mind giving this to him from me, please?” you asked with a smile, she nodded and took it from your hands, that same apprehensive look on her face, before turning to the boy with a reproachful look.

“Why don’t you take it to him?” She asked suddenly, “Perhaps he’s not completely asleep yet.”

You scoffed wryly, a small, tight-lipped smile appearing on your face. “No need, it’s better he rests,” you said “I’ll get to talk things out sooner than later.”

You gave the woman yet another chocolate and walked towards the door. And it really would be sooner, since you planned to sneak out later that night.

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A/N: I'm feeling the festive spirits, decided to treat you with a little out-of-the-blue update. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and I know we all miss Rem, but trust me, the wait will be worth it.

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avastrasposts · 4 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen - Eleven**

A collection of fun and fluffy one shots set in the same bakery. Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stories, twelve recipes.

Hello!

The second to last visitor to the bakery is here and I can hardly believe it! Eleven weeks of Pedro boys have flown past and I've had so much fun with them!

So before we get started with number eleven, this series was meant to be all fluff, but then this Pedro boy arrived and just really got out of hand and I had nothing to do with it, he just took over!

So I had to ask my friend @morallyinept if I could use her very handy Scoville Smut Rating to issue some warnings. Thank you, Jett!

Series Master List

This chapter is rated:

🌶 - "Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Scoville Level 15,000. The Donis Cadejo Hot Sauce. (Buy the sauce here) The story contains mildly spicy smut. Tingles left on your tongue.

The week’s been slower than usual, as it always is in February, post-holiday blues setting in, everyone trying to be extra healthy and save some money. No time to be indulging in sweet things. Your shop does fine though, planning and prepping for Valentine’s Day and the upcoming wedding season.

But the slower hours in the shop makes you take note of the black car that’s been parked across the street all day. Nothing odd about that, but there’s also been someone sitting in the car all day. You’ve been glancing over as you go about your business, studying the man behind the wheel as he makes notes and phone calls, focused on something further down the street, out of your view. From the way he’s dressed, a crisp, well ironed, pale blue shirt, you’re guessing he’s an agent for some agency, or maybe a very well dressed private eye. He’s not doing a very good job though, he sticks out like a sore thumb on this street of small businesses. When he glances over at you just before noon, you give him a quick smile, to hide the fact that you’ve been staring at the way he’s been rubbing his large hand over his chin for the past five minutes. He locks eyes with you, surprise flitting across his face, before he gives you a crooked smile in return.

This is the beginning of a dance; you glance over to find him looking at you rather than the street in front of him, you raise your eyebrows in challenge and he seems to chuckle, looking away. You study his strong nose, the dark curls brushing over his forehead as he makes more notes, and he catches you staring when he looks over, one eyebrow arching in a questioning look and you shrug with a smile, going back to the cake you’re decorating.

It’s late in the afternoon when you notice movement in the street, a second car parking behind the first and a man getting out and walking over to the first car. Quick words are exchanged, you steal glances from the corner of your eye as you finish up an order for tomorrow. Bending down to put the order away, you hear the bell on your front door chime.

“Hi, I thought I’d stop by and say hello properly,” the man from the car is standing in front of the counter with a small smile as you straighten up.

“Hi,” you say, returning his smile as you take the chance to get a better look at him for the first time. He’s taller than you expected, and broad, so much broader than the side view you’ve had all day indicated. The light blue dress shirt is stretching over his shoulders and arms and you immediately decide that he must be an agent, no private eye is ever this fit, not that you have much experience, but still.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and explain what I’m doing,” the man says, nodding over at his car on the other side of the street, “And I hope I can count on your discretion too.”

“Uuhmm, sure,” you say, looking at him as he pulls a badge from the pocket of his suit trousers, “I was kinda assuming that you’re on some sort of stake out.”

“That obvious, huh?” the man chuckles, showing you his ID.

“Yeah, your sleek car and nice shirt gave it away a little,” you smile, “and the way you sat out there all day, I’m pretty sure every business owner on the street has spotted you.”

“I’ll need to fix that for tomorrow then,” he smiles, “I’m special agent Dave York, I’m with the CIA, and we’ve got surveillance on an apartment further down the street. I can’t tell you what it’s about but you don’t have to worry, it’s nothing dangerous for the neighborhood.”

“That’s good to know,” you reply, “And you’re welcome in for coffee or something to snack on whenever you want,” you thumb at the coffee machine behind you, “I’d offer delivery service but that might be a little bit too obvious.”

He chuckles at that and you notice the dimple on his clean shaven cheek, a slight five o’clock shadow indicating that it’s been a while since he got up and shaved this morning.

“I’d love a coffee right now, if you don’t mind,” he says and you point at the menu.

“What’ll it be?

“The dark roast, black, please,” he says, “You’ve got a good selection.”

“Thanks, people mainly buy bread and cakes, the coffee machine is mainly for me and a handful of regulars who like good coffee, we like trying different beans and roasts,” you throw him a smile over your shoulder as you prepare his coffee to go.

“I’ll have to become a regular then, keep your coffee business going,” he taps his card on the machine as you hand him the cup.

“I just realized I know who you are,” you say, the penny finally dropping, “One of my regulars, Mrs Levinson, knows your mom. Mrs Levinson bought a Lemon Meringue Pie for her a while back.”

“Oh yeah, those two are as thick as thieves, always trying to set me up on blind dates,” he chuckles, taking a sip of the coffee, “I’ve been blaming my workload to avoid them." He raises the cup to you with a smile, “Great coffee, I’ll definitely come back."

“If I don’t spot you, I’ll know you’ve done a better job of hiding,” you tell him and he laughs, giving you a cheesy thumbs up as he leaves.

You watch him take long strides across the street to his car, the coffee still in his hand, and just as he gets in the car, he turns and looks back at you, a smile cracking across his face as he raises his hand in a wave.

You do spot him the next day, but you are keeping an eye out for him, glancing out to see if he’s arrived. He parks a different car across the street this time, a beat up, rusty looking banger, and he’s in a ratty looking t-shirt and a beanie pulled low over his forehead. Much less ‘agent on a stakeout’ this time, but you still glance over at him from time to time, far too often in fact. And you bite back a smile when you catch him glancing over at you too, catching your eye on a few occasions as he winks.

Half way through the day he’s relieved, and he steps out of his car, coming over to the bakery again.

“Hi,” he says, giving you a dimpled smile as he pulls off his beanie, “Did I blend in better today?”

“Yeah, better,” you smile back at him as he comes up to the counter, “The distressed t-shirt was a good choice.”

“I had to dig it out from the bottom of some box left over from when I moved,” he holds up the front of it and studies the suspicious looking stain on the front, “I swear this is not my usual casual look.”

Holding up the front has resulted in the hem of the t-shirt lifting up over the edge of his pants and you can’t help but glance down as he flashes a few inches of skin, his sweat pants sitting low on his hips. The trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband has you momentarily distracted as you follow it down to-

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, snapping your eyes back up to his, but not before he notices, giving you a small smirk, “NIce sweatpants.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “not as old as the t-shirt, but still not my best look, I promise.”

“I don’t mind that much,” you smirk back and he flashes a crooked grin, his eyebrow cocked, before he looks up at the coffee menu behind you and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you recommend today? I’m feeling adventurous,” he says, looking down at you again with a smile, “blame the sweatpants.”

“A single espresso shot vanilla hazelnut latte with salted caramel and whipped cream on top? I usually add some cookie crumbles too,” you say and Dave’s face falls, his eyebrows pulling together in a concerned look.

“Ah…uhh…” he stutters, rubbing his hand over his jaw, clearly looking for a polite way to decline your suggestion and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at his panic, but he catches the mirth in your eyes.

“Holy shit, you’re kidding,” he gasps out, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow as you start giggling.

“Sorry, I had to check if you’re serious about your coffee,” you wink at him as he shakes his head and puffs a relieved breath.

“Had me worried,” he says, “I thought I’d have to drink one of those to be allowed to stay a regular.”

“No, I think I’d have to kick you out if you did order one of those,” you smile, picking up the bag of new beans that just arrived, “Here, smell these, I just got them so I haven’t even tried them yet.”

Dave takes a deep breath and nods with a satisfied look, “That’s nice, can I try that?”

“Sure, I’ll make us one each. Single or double?”

“Double, please, this stake out thing is kicking my ass,” he says, leaning against the counter as you start the process of grinding the beans.

“Do you want some cake or something else too?” you ask, nodding at your selection.

“No, I’m good,” he says, “It all looks really good, but not today.” He does let his eyes drift over the cakes on display though and you smile to yourself, you know the type, sooner or later he’ll cave and get something as a treat no matter how strong his resolve it.

“Here you go,” you say, passing him his espresso, in a cup this time, “let me know what you think, if it’s good I might give it a permanent spot on the menu.”

You both take a few sips of the coffee in silence, humming at the flavors.

“It’s good,” Dave finally says, “Really good, I wouldn’t complain if it was a regular on the menu.”

“I agree, I’m going to order more,” you reply, draining the cup as he pulls his wallet out of his pants.

“Let me pay for both coffees,” he says, holding out his card, “as a thank you, for letting me come in and disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing, Dave,” you smile, “you can come in whenever you want.”

“Even if I’m not on a stake out?” he asks, a small smile playing around his mouth and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Especially when you’re not on a stake out,” you smile back and his dimple makes an appearance as his smile widens.

“I’ll remember that,” he says, tapping his card to pay for both coffees, “I’ll see you tomorrow though, more stake out.”

“See you tomorrow,” you say, returning the wave he gives you as he leaves.

He’s back the next morning, already sitting in the car as you come out into the shop to open up for the day. He looks tired, yawning big and rubbing his hand over his eyes as he leans his head against the headrest. You glance over at him while you work and serve the small morning crowd, but he doesn’t look back at you. Saying goodbye to the last customer you look over at the car again, Dave’s head is flopped to the side, mouth hanging open and eyes closed, sound asleep. The sight is adorable, the big CIA agent clearly exhausted if he’s passed out on the job. You grab your travel mug, the one you keep filled with coffee through the morning, and give it a quick clean. Filling it up with a triple espresso shot from the beans you’d had with him yesterday, you screw on the top and exit the shop. He stirs as your shoes scuff over the asphalt, jerking up as you lightly tap the window.

“Hey, want some coffee?” you ask, holding up the travel mug and he gives you such a look of relief and gratitude that it melts your heart.

“Thanks,” he says once he’s cranked down the window in the old car, “I’m dead here, can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Doesn’t do you much good on a stake out,” you say, “drop off the mug when you leave, and just wave at me if you want more coffee, I’ll come over with a refill.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he smiles, and you smile back, giving him a wave as you cross the street to the bakery.

Dave stays a bit more alert through the rest of the day, and gets relieved earlier than usual. You smile when he comes into the shop.

“Any luck with whatever you’re waiting for?” you ask as he hands you the travel mug.

“No, and we’re running out of time, this might be a waste of resources,” he says, shaking his head and yawning widely, “I’m sorry, I was up late last night, working on this and then I couldn’t fall asleep, too much stuff on my mind.”

“Go home, Dave,” you say, shooing him out of your shop with a smile, “You’re no good to anyone when you’re like this.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, “But I like our chats, makes this stake out more enjoyable than any other I’ve been on,” he suddenly looks a little bit shy as he’s half turned towards the door, a small smile as he looks back at you.

“I like our chats too,” you say, butterflies erupting in the pit of your belly, and for a few seconds you’re just ogling each other like a couple of fools, both too shy to say anything else. Dave clears his throat, a small chuckling sound, and looks at his shoes before he glances up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you tomorrow, Dave,” you give him a wave and a small smile, biting your lip to hold back the bigger one that’s being pushed up by the butterflies as he returns your smile and leaves.

But the next morning you don’t see his car, or any other car that might be a covert CIA operation and you wonder if the stake out got canceled. The day passes slowly, the usual February slump slower than usual without Dave outside your window. Realizing you don’t have his number, you can only hope he’ll come back even though he’s not on a stake out. And when you finally see him the next afternoon, crossing the street at a slight jog to avoid a car, you feel yourself smiling before he’s even spotted you. When he pushes open the door he gives you a wide grin.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asks, coming up to the counter as you put away your phone.

“Hi,” you smile at him, thanking your past self for changing the stained t-shirt and apron into something cuter, “I’m good, but things are slow today so I’m glad you’re here, it’s been kinda boring without the stake out to distract me.”

He chuckles at that, looking out onto the spot where his car had been for the past three days.

“Yeah, orders came yesterday to can it, another team has picked up a hotter lead so we’ve been working on that. But that place doesn't have any nice bakeries nearby, so it's a complete loss,” he says with a smile that makes your insides liquid.

“So you’re actually here when not on a stake out?” you tease him and he laughs.

“Told you I’d be back,” he says, pushing the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing up over his thick forearms and crossing his arms, scanning the coffee menu. “Should I go for another one of those nice beans, or should I be adventurous?” he asks.

You give him a crooked smile, tilting your head like you’re assessing him and he raises an eyebrow in question at you.

“What do you have in mind? That look is making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking….” you begin, “the regular coffee, but…you get a snack too, one of the cakes.”

Dave gives you a grin in response and begins to scan the cakes, “The carrot cake,” he says, pointing to one of the smallest slices covered in white cream cheese frosting.

“Good choice,” you smile, “it’s a best seller and I made it this morning.” You plate the slice and start making the coffee for him.

“It’s kinda healthy, right?” he asks, eyeing the carrot cake with suspicion, “It’s got carrots and all?”

“I mean, it’s still got sugar and fat in it,” you chuckle, “but it’s made with vegetable oil and not butter, so there is that.”

You bring the coffee to the counter and start making a coffee for yourself as Dave picks up the plate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” you sputter out as you watch him scrape the frosting off the cake with the spoon, “That’s the best part!”

“It’s just fat and sugar,” he says, putting the dollop of frosting on the side of the plate, “I’m trying to stay healthy.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Dave,” you smirk, “if you don’t eat that frosting on the cake like the baker intended, I don’t think this friendship is going to last.” You point to yourself and raise your eyebrows in a challenge.

“You know, I usually don’t eat sweet stuff, it’s the job,” he says, “I need to stay fit for it.” He’s toying with the cake, the intonation heavy on the 'eat'. He's not looking at you, but there’s a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth.

“So indulge a little, it’ll be worth it,” you smile and he looks up at you, his smirk suddenly changing into something more challenging as he seems to evaluate you in silence for several long seconds.

“Only if you’re on the menu,” he says, his dark eyes pinning you in place while he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you on the menu?”

The question is direct as he slowly raises his eyebrows, the intention clear.

You feel your brain grind to a halt, Dave’s dark brown eyes are boring into you as you slowly inhale, you feel like he’s flicked a switch and turned on his professional side, but he’s not using it to interrogate you. Instead he’s using it to put pressure on you, to get you to tell him what you want.

What he wants.

Glancing down at the plate still in his hand, he swipes his finger through the frosting and slowly rounds the counter, coming up to where you’re still standing frozen by the coffee machine.

“Are you?” he says, repeating his question and slowly bringing his finger to his mouth, sucking the frosting off with a pop.

The tip of your tongue comes out to lick across your top lip and Dave glances down at your mouth, following the movement. Taking a step closer, he’s almost touching you now, you can feel the scent of his cologne wash over you as his eyes come back up to yours.

“I’d really like it, if you were on the menu,” he says, his voice low and dark, “but if you’re not, tell me, and I’ll leave.”

You swallow, still transfixed by his dark eyes on you, the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to read you and succeeding. You slowly nod your head yes.

Dave inhales softly, putting down the plate, “Use your words. Tell me I can kiss you,” he says, the frustration clearly thrumming just below the surface of his low tones as his breath skates across your cheek, his hands hovering just inches from your body, ready to grab as soon as you give him permission, “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all week but I couldn’t do anything.”

A shiver runs through your body, your hand shaking as you put your coffee cup down, slowly putting both your hands on the front of his gray t-shirt, feeling the bunched up muscles flex under your palms as you slide them up to his shoulders. Dave is watching you intently, a small crease between his eyebrows, his fingers twitching by your waist.

“Not here,” you say, dropping your hands to your sides, and side stepping him. He turns as you slip out past him, quickly walking the front door and locking it, flipping the ‘Back in five minutes’ sign. When you turn back, he’s still standing by the coffee machine and you pass him.

“Less nosy neighbors in here,” you say, holding out your hand to him.

He reacts in a heartbeat, taking your hand and crowding you as he pushes you further into the kitchen, out of sight. He lets go of your hand and grabs your waist, the other landing on your neck, his large hand easily spanning across it and up, cupping your cheek as he walks you backwards. The cool metal of the walk-in fridge hits your back and Dave’s towering over you, bending his face down so that his strong nose brushes against yours, his eyes almost black under his eyebrows, pulled together tight, and the hand at your waist bunching up your shirt.

“Now?” he husks and you nod.

“Yes, now.”

His mouth is hot when it reaches yours in a flash, he’s pushing you further up against the fridge as he angles his head to have more. There’s an edge of desperation to the way he holds you. The hand on your cheek keeps you where he needs you as he licks the seam of your lips. When you part them, his tongue is eager and needy, a groan escaping from somewhere deep inside of him and you pant into his mouth as his sounds fire up your brain. Heat shoots through your body like rocket fuel ignited, the cool metal behind you a sharp contrast to the solid warmth of Dave’s body in front when he pulls you closer with his hand on your waist, tugging you into him.

It’s messy, tongues and teeth fighting for control, your hands in his hair, his thick fingers grabbing your neck, his thigh between your legs. There’s no hiding the arousal coursing through you both as you moan at the way he rubs over your core, his low groans mixed in when he rolls his hard length into your hip.

He tangles his fingers into your hair, pulling back your head and trailing wet kisses across your throat, sucking a mark into where shoulder meets neck, moving up again, his teeth gently tugging on your earlobe before you gasp when he nips at the soft skin just underneath.

“I’ve been fucking dreaming about how you’d sound when I did this,” he growls when you moan loudly into the silent kitchen, “sound so pretty, so fucking sweet.” His hand on your waist tightens, he’s pulling you down onto his leg, rocking into you as you clamor for a grip, tugging at his hair, loud, satisfied groan coming from Dave.

“I wanna hear what you sound like when you come,” he mutters, moving his mouth up to yours again, biting your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, tongue coming out to caress it, taste it, before he lets go.

Pulling back a little, he looks down at you. You meet his dark eyes, lust clouding them as you gasp at the way his thick thigh creates just enough friction to make you convulse under his firm grip.

“So fucking sweet,” he mumbles, a tone to his voice like he’s been craving this, “always looking at me from the bakery, always smelling so good, so tempting. Been wanting to do this since the first day, just get you in here and make you come all over my leg, hear you say my name.”

You try to unscramble your brain, it’s hazy with arousal, the coil that he’s wound so tightly about to snap. But all you can feel is the tell tale tingling that’s started in your core and you close your eyes, the feeling radiating out from where his thigh rubs against you.

“No, keep them open for me, baby,” Dave growls, “keep your eyes on me,” his voice forcing you to look up at him as it hits.

“Dave…” you gasp, “Pl-please, Dave…”

It shoots through your system like electricity, your legs closing around his, your skin burning as he kisses you, swallowing down your cries of his name as he keeps moving his leg, working you through the high until your muscles finally relax.

He holds you up, his arm around your waist now, as his kisses soften. Soft movements across your lips, his tongue gently teasing yours until he pulls back a little, pressing his lips against yours, foreheads touching as you take a deep breath and you can feel him smile against you.

He moves his leg back, bending down and grabbing hold of your thighs, picking you up like you weigh nothing. With your arms around his neck, you hold on until he sets you down on the workbench, his hard erection is pressed tight between you but he seems to ignore it.

“You ok?” he asks quietly, bending down and pressing a small kiss to the side of your neck, “seemed like you needed that.” His chuckle is low and amused as you sigh deeply.

“That’s how you indulge?” you ask, caressing the back of his head, raking your fingers through his thick hair.

“Better for your body than that carrot cake,” he smirks, pulling back a bit so that he can look at you while he cups your jaw and strokes his thumb over cheek.

“I told you, this friendship won’t last if you don’t eat the frosting,” you give him a small smile, your body still humming.

Dave gives you a smug look, “I don’t want your friendship, I want your frosting,” he says with a grin, tugging gently at your chin so that he can press his lips to yours and slip his tongue inside before your addled brain can come up with a comeback.

The kiss is languid and slow, Dave takes his time, holding you back as you try to pull him closer, your hands still in his hair. After several long minutes he reaches up and untangles your fingers and pulls them down to your sides.

“I’m leaving now,” he says against your mouth, his lips brushing over yours, “And I want you to be good. I have to go take care of something on that case. Close the shop when you’re done, go home, I’ll come by later.” There’s a promise in his low tone, in the way he nips at your bottom lip one last time and his fingers dig into your hips as he moves around your neck.

“Listen,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Part Twelve

Series Master List

Ok, so that got spicier then intended right? I don't know what to say, Dave just stepped in and took over.... blame him or thank him!

For the cake, this recipe uses pecans but I prefer walnuts but you can also leave them out if you want too. But it really is a very good cake...

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #hot damn!

177 notes · View notes

chrisevansredbelt · 2 years

Text

Lamb to the Slaughter

pairing: dark!steve rogers x naive!agent!reader

warnings: DUBCON! SMUT! reader is very naive, booksmart but sexually naive. oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex. kinda grooming i guess. very dubious consent.

read at your own discretion please. 18+ only.

summary: steve takes a liking to you and your naivety. he also takes advantage of it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

That was probably the best physical part about you. Your ass. Your tits were nice too, but the way your ass sat so nicely in your suit and in any pants really. Well, your tits also sat nicely. But your ass was just phenomenal.

Oh, how Steve wished he could just lay his head down on them like pillows after a long, hard day or bury his face between your legs and grip your ass so hard-

“Captain?” You yell a little louder now, and that’s when he kind of blinks himself out of whatever trance he was in. It was strange, he was looking down at you- but he wasn’t hearing a word you said.

“Sorry-“ He mumbles, “Sorry, uh-“He turns to the toolbox propped on the metal table, “What did you need?”

“The screw?” You point to the screw on the floor which had fallen out of his grip. You would’ve grabbed it yourself had you not been cramped inside of a small hole in the wall to fix the electrical circuit.

“Oh, right.” Steve bends to pick it up, practically at eye level with your ass now as you’re on all fours in the small space. You reach your hand behind you to retrieve the tool as he places it in your hand, “Sorry.”

He quickly regains his composure, standing upright and cursing himself for getting caught. The moment he saw the outline of your little g string through the fabric of your suit, he had dropped the tool. The loud clang of it against the metal floor not enough to pull him back out of that trance. Little innocent you, wearing a g-string. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as he thought. And then he thought of all the things you had probably let some fuck boy do to you… and all the things he could do better.

“It’s okay.” You forgive him, offering him a sympathetic look from the small glimpse of his tired face that you got through the small crowded space you were situated in, “Long day?” You ask, before going back to the board.

“You could say that.” You hear him say after a heavy sigh.

“I can imagine.” You reply, “Must be so hard being Captain.”

“Sometimes.” He shrugs, a smile playing at his lips as he tilts his head to get a better view of your panties through your suit, “But it’s rewarding.” He adds, eyes never leaving your ass that’s on full display for him right now.

“Not worth losing sleep over though.” You quirk, shining your torch on one of the chewed up wires. Rats? Tony Stark can afford all the gadgets in the world, yet he can’t control rats?

“Definitely not.” Steve sighs, “But it’s my job.”

Deciding that this electrical job needs much more than a simple repair, you start shuffling backwards out of the little tunnel, “Well, if you ever need help with any paperwork or anything-“ You say, bracing yourself as you’re greeted with much fresher air. When your feet reach the ground, you kind of sit back on your heels, on your knees in front of Steve as you catch your breath. Steve just about had a heart attack as you so innocently kneel before him. You smile up at him before tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear and continuing your sentence, “If it’s appropriate, I’m happy to help out?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile, looking down- almost blushing as he nods, “That’s very kind of you. I’ll let you know.”

You nod in response, before getting back to the task at hand, “Rats have chewed through the cables- I don’t think we should put any in until we get rid of them.”

Steve just nods, your words going in one ear and out the other however as he clasps his hands in front of him over his raging hard on.

“Uh, so if you just um- get on your knees,” You oblige so willingly, dropping to your knees in front of Steve and peaking under the dashboard of the quinjet, “You’ll be able to see it.”

You crane your neck a little to examine the fuse box and electrical circuit all hidden behind a dark plastic panel, “Oh yeah,” You hum, “So many buttons.”

“It’s big, huh?” Steve adds, smiling to himself.

“Yeah,” You scoff. Big was hardly the word for it. You look over it for a few more seconds, then at the sheet of your test paper. Fuses, alternator, corrosion. Those were the three tasks you were given to find and fix all on your own. Even through the plastic shield that showcased the electrical units of the jet, you were confident in completing all three, “Okay, I know what to do.” You nod up at Steve and get comfortable on your knees, “Ready to be my tool bearer?”

Steve snorts, “As I’ll ever be.” He jokes, handing you the screwdriver you almost always need at the beginning of these engineering exams. You get to work immediately, wasting no time so as to hit that criteria. Steve eyes the cockpit jet seat behind him, pulling the tool box of the dash board before asking, “Mind if I sit?”

You look up at him, then back to the chair before laughing a little, “Go for your life.” You tell him sarcastically. He smiles down at you and takes a seat and you look at him over your shoulder, “You have to treat yourself every once in a while, Captain.”

He just huffs softly, watching as you turn back around and work on the engine in front of you- yet again giving Steve the most perfect view of your ass, “Yeah, I do.”

It should be illegal for you to wear such an outfit to the gym. It’s no different from any other gym outfit that he’s seen worn by his female team and other female agents. But it’s the fact that you’re the one wearing it, so oblivious to its effect on your Captain.

Scheduled supervised gym times is probably Steve’s favourite place to be. Well, the rare evaluations every once in a while where he has one-on-one time definitely tops it in a heartbeat. But those are hardly often.

Besides, during those times you always opted for much more comfortable gym attire- which basically meant Steve had to use his imagination a little bit more than usual.

“Who’s got you wrapped around their finger?” Bucky breaks Steve out of his thoughts, sitting next to him on one of the benches in the gym as he joins Steve in supervising the training agents, “You’re all spacey.”

Steve just scoffs, shaking his head, “You’re too observant.”

Bucky smirks, “But I’m right?”

Steve just nods subtly, squinting his eyes at you a little- internally deciding if he really wants to tell Bucky. A small part of him just wants to keep you all to himself, because Steve knows damn well that if he tells Bucky- he’ll probably want in. Not that Steve isn’t down to share with his best friend- you were just different.

Steve wanted you all to himself.

But nonetheless, Bucky was his best friend. And Steve would do everything in his power to keep him away from you if Bucky were to show interest.

“See that agent?” Steve mumbles lowly, just enough so that if someone were to walk by, they wouldn’t hear.

Bucky follows Steve’s gaze over to a lone agent. She’s by her duffel, drinking from her water bottle. Some of it misses her mouth- or overflows- and spills down her chin and eventually down her cleavage. Huh, she’s cute.

Both Steve and Bucky catch the moment. And while Steve is more dumbstruck, Bucky just laughs a little, typical Steve’s type- naive.

“A recruit, hey?” He first teases- the age difference a literal slap in the face. Steve just sighs, subtly readjusting his pants so as not to display his hard on, “Okay, I see it.” Bucky nods understandingly as he watches you some more. Bucky knew you, of course, having trained you in a lot of your combat and weaponry courses. You really are a breath of fresh air- that’s the best way he could describe you. Sweet smile, sweeter laugh, best ass.

“She’s so naive.” Steve marvels, “Had her on her knees for about an hour while she worked on the engine, saying all kinds of things that went over her head.”

Bucky smiles at the thought. He decided to keep to himself how he was able to spar with you himself once, let you win and had you on top of him straddling his waist. Or how close he gets to you when handling your weapons. Hey, you’ve gotta learn one way or another.

Instead, Bucky tells him something else. Something not as incriminating for him, but rather… for everyone else.

“All the boys hit on her.”

Steve almost gets whiplash from how fast he turns around to look at Bucky, “Who?” He asks with deeply furrowed brows.

“All of them.” Bucky shrugs, nodding to where they all stand and where you have rejoined them. Steve takes particular note on how all the boys stare down at your chest as you talk and laugh with them, “During their combat training, they call her sweet cheeks. Said it’s because of her smile.”

Steve watches with daggers in his eyes as Bucky’s point is proven. As you walk off with two other female agents towards the treadmills, all the boys stare shamelessly at your ass- chatting amongst themselves after all giddy.

“Bullshit.” Steve mutters

“I’m saying.” Bucky scoffs. The pair are silent as they watch you on the treadmill, the way your hips sway effortlessly as you take each step, “She’s a virgin, you know?” Again, Steve’s head almost loses control and screws off as he whips his head around to look at Bucky, who just shrugs, “They all tease her for it.”

Steve swore he heard wedding bells at that. So you’re a virgin after all.

The two super soldiers remain on that bench for the rest of the session, every so often glancing at other members of the team of recruits, but mostly focusing their attention on you.

In doing so, Steve was silently conjuring up a plan.

As Bucky announced that their training session was over and that they were free to go, Steve got to his feet.

Everyone was on their way out, and as you throw your duffel over your shoulder, you were glad to have finally finished. You couldn’t wait to retreat back to your room and have a nice, long bath-

“Agent L/N,” You turn at the sound of your name, called by an all too familiar voice. You smile up at your Captain despite the uneasy look he gives you with authrotitative hands on his hips, “Could you stay back a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” You gives your friends a small smile as they leave without you. You wait patiently in front of Steve as he seemingly waits for everyone to leave until it is just the two of you left in the gym, “Is everything okay?” You ask once the final person leaves- the silence wracking your nerves.

He sighs heavily, looking down and God, you’re nervous. You don’t know any better, and from the looks of it, you must be in trouble.

“You’re a great agent,” He starts off and you blink at him a little before softly smiling, “You’re flying through the course and passing every exam. You’re smart, you’re kind.”

“Thank you, Captain.” You feel your cheeks heat up a little at the myriad of compliments he had just given you.

He just gives you a tight lip smile however as he goes to continue, he looks down to the floor and purses his lips with a heavy sigh, “Those boys, not so much.” Your smile falters a little, shocked to hear your Captain speak softly openly and negatively about his recruits, “They seem to treat this course just as some kind of badge for their resume. They don’t take it as serious as you do.” You smile softly at the subtle compliment, but don’t know if it’s the right reaction, “From what I’ve seen, Y/N, I’m not too sure they’re good for you to hang around.” You look up at him now with slightly sad eyes and he’s quick to explain (and hold the moan), “You get all distracted and a lot of the time, they’re just flirting with you. And I’m not telling you who you can and can’t be friends with, but I’d just hate for this opportunity to get taken away from you just because you got wooed by one of them airheads.”

“Oh,” Is all you can say after a short moment of silence, “I-I never realised they were doing that.” You shake your head, cheeks heating up at the thought of all those boys flirting with you. You always thought they were nice, but you never thought they were flirting! To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t know flirting if it killed you. Your Captains words swirled all through your head- and you frowned slightly at the thought of disappointing him. You didn’t get in trouble- and certainly not at the expense of some boys, “Well, what do you think I should do?” You ask, “I want to follow your advice, but I don’t want to hurt their feelings by not talking to them anymore.”

Steve doesn’t know why he’s so surprised that his plan worked- I mean look at you. He smiles now, changing his whole demeanour now that he has you right where he wants you, “If you accept, I have a- kind of excuse for you to steer clear of them.” You nod eagerly up at him, prompting him continue, “Be my assistant.” He shrugs, “You can help me out with my paperwork up at my office and I don’t know- maybe you can even join Tony and Bruce in the labs if you like.” He offers and your eyes light up, “So, if they do ever approach you, you can just say you’re too busy to talk.” He adds.

“Okay.” You hardly hesitate to accept the offer, “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He smiles, “I’ll send you an email with the forms you need to fill out and come Monday, you’ll probably join me in my office for the day.” You nod once more and Steve nods in return, “Have a nice night, Y/N.”

You turn to leave, but stop yourself and spin right back around, Steve unmoving and raising a curious brow, “When you did passing every exam, does that mean I passed the engine exam?” You ask with a slight smirk on your face.

Steve laughs softly, scanning the room quickly before nodding and giving you you’re unreleased result, “Of course you did.”

As you turn back around with the biggest smile on your face, Steve can’t help the smile that breaks out on his own.

He had you right where he wants you. And now it’s only a matter of time.

Being Steve’s assistant was probably the best decision you’ve made.

And yes… you got to call him Steve now. It felt so strange at first, felt too informal considering he was now both your boss and Captain. But you both agreed it was even weirder to constantly call him Captain and Mr. Rogers when you would spend practically every working hour together.

And that’s what being his assistant was. When you weren’t fulfilling your training duties, you were helping him out. Paperwork, grading, organising his schedule, picking up his lunch- at one point you even did his laundry.

And it really did work in keeping you away from the boys. You still talked to them every so often, but it was only ever very small talk.

Anyways, every day that you weren’t training, you would meet with Steve at his office at 8AM on the dot. From there you would deliberate on the new day- or if he’d given you a task to do overnight, you’d present it to him then.

Which is what happened last night. You were to input all of the data and Steve’s notes of each recruit and their progress, grades and comments into one big table-spreadsheet thing.

It sounded like a lot, but was actually very easy and you had it done in no time, printed out and alphabetically sorted in a neat pile in your arm as you approached Steve’s office.

Coming up his doors, you stopped dead in your tracks, however, when you heard a few pained grunts coming from within. You furrowed your brows softly and held your ear up against the door. The noise persisted and you worried a little for your Captain. He sounded hurt?

Glancing at the time, it was 8:00AM on the dot. Not wanting to end up even a minute late you knocked on the wooden door to Steve’s office four times before stepping back and waiting. The pained grunts seemingly stopped after your last knock and he cleared his throat. You then heard a soft thump and lot of shuffling before his feet were trudging towards the door.

The door swings open and there stands a puffed out Steve.

“Morning,” You say softly, and before he can greet you back, you ask, “Are you feeling okay, Steve? I heard noises-“

“Yeah, fine, Y/N. Thank you.” He chokes out. He’s totally unconvincing though as his hair is a little disheveled and he seems… exhausted? Nevertheless, he stands to the side and opens the door wider for you, “Come in,”

As you enter the office and brush past him, you quite literally feel his body heat radiate off of him and you persist in ensuring he’s feeling okay, “Are you sure you’re okay?” You place your hand upon his forehead and gasp softly at the heat of his skin, “You’re burning up.”

“No, I’m fine, Y/N.” He shakes his head. You still don’t believe him- and he knows it. He has to stop himself from smiling too hard at how naive you are. Instead he just smiles softly and holds out his pinky for you, “Promise.” You smile down at his pinky now. You still don’t believe him… not fully, but still, you entwine your pinkies together, “Got my papers?” He then asks and you nod, handing him the stack that rests in your arms.

You observed Steve closely for a good 10 minutes as he scanned over the documents. You pretended to work on something on your laptop, but you were mostly stealing long glances up at the man before you- who clearly seemed to have something wrong with him.

Whether he was sick, in pain, tired- you couldn’t tell- probably all three even. But Steve would never let anyone know that- not on purpose anyway. Which is why, as he shifts in his seat for about the 7th time in the last few minutes with a strained expression on his face, you shut your laptop and face him.

“Steve, are you sure you’re okay?” You ask, placing a hand on his arm- before he can respond you cut him off and say, “There’s something wrong and I know you’re too stubborn to take the day off, so is there nothing I can do? Anything at all?”

He sighs softly, “You know me too well.”

You shrug, “It’s kind of my job.” You got really close to Steve after taking up this job- that was never really the plan (not for you at least) but it was basically inevitable. And you’re actually really glad it turned out that way because Steve was just great.

As your rub his arm softly, Steve caves. How can he not? His plan has worked yet again. He was going to drag it out a bit more- maybe wait until the end of the day- that way his unfinished orgasm from when he had edged himself under his desk this morning before you and knocked would be so good.

But he has to give in. With the way you’re rubbing his arm and staring up at him, in your little office outfit that has been driving him crazy for the past few weeks. He has to.

Putting his act back up, he sighs again, “It’s just my-“ You lean closer, almost eager to hear him admit his illness. But Steve just shakes his head and cuts himself off, “You’re just gonna think it’s gross.”

“I won’t!” You shake your head, squeezing his arm, “I had to bunk with the boys on that one mission, I can’t imagine anything more gross.” You try and joke, but it does little to make Steve actually laugh. He fakes one, of course, but on the inside he’s furious.

He could only imagine the jokes and innuendos that flew over your head when you had bunked with those foul boys. And so help them if they had even laid a finger on you.

“Well,” Steve begins, before looking down at the concealed tent in his pants and then up at you, “My cock really hurts.”

You blink dumbly at him, accidentally casting your eyes down to his crotch before quickly looking back up at him, “Oh,” Is all you manage to let out. You weren’t expecting that.

“I’m not sure why. It’s been aching all morning.”

You take your hand of his arm and Steve panics a little. Holding both of your hands in your lap, your furrow your brows, “I-I’m not really sure how I can help…”

“I know how,” Steve says, a little too eagerly but you don’t notice. He takes note of the way your head shoots up, almost willing to hear what he has to say… okay, good… so you’re not completely grossed out- still just as naive as ever, “But only if you’re okay with it?”

You nod, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.” Steve says. You search his face for any kind of sarcasm, but even though you come up empty handed, you still smile softly- a laugh beginning to break out. Steve mirrors your smile, “I’m serious, it really works. Female saliva is like a painkiller for it.” He quickly lies.

“Really?” You ask, amazed and too gullible for your own good, “So should I spit on it?” You ask innocently and Steve swears he could’ve cum in his pants right there.

He swallows a thick breath, “You’ll have to spread it around as well.” He nods, hands going to his belt and unbuckling it. As he pulls his fly down and pulls out his aching, hard cock that he had tugged into the waist band of his boxers to conceal his boner, he doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up at the sight of him, “See how it’s red and hard- it need to be soft.”

You nod understandingly, “Oh, I think I heard the boys talk about this happening to them on the mission.” You say absentmindedly as you go back to stroking his arm soothingly.

But it does little to help this time. Steve sees red.

“You didn’t touch any of their cocks, did you?” He asks you firmly and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was mad at you.

“No,” You shake your head, a little confused as to why that would be such a bad thing. After all, you’re about to touch Steve’s- and you would only be helping them, right?

“Good girl.” He nods, and you feel a few butterflies in your stomach at his praise- you could never tire of Steve’s praises- and he knew that, “So, get on your knees,” Steve instructs and you hop off your chair and slide to the ground, onto your knees. You naturally just slot yourself between his spread legs, propping yourself up on his thighs as he holds his cock closer to your mouth. You won’t lie- it looks very intimidating and you’re a little nervous, but you trust Steve with your life, “Kiss it better first.” He orders and you picked your lips and kiss the head of it. Steve throws his head back a little and you continue to kiss down the underside of it, nearly giving Steve a heart attack, “Fuck-“

You pull away as he curses, looking up at him with furrowed brows, “Did I do something wrong?” You ask nervously.

One of his hands comes down to tuck a stray hair out of your face and behind your ear as he shakes his head, “It was perfect.” With the same hand, he guides it behind your head, “Now, open your mouth,” You open your mouth slightly and Steve chuckles a little, “Wider than that.” You widen your mouth, “Good, now stick out your tongue.” You do so tentatively, sticking out your tongue fir their and further as Steve nods. Once he’s satisfied with the length of your tongue, he slaps his cock down onto it a few times. You’re a little confused, but let he do what he obviously knows is best. “Now spit on it.” He says, practically reading your body as you retreat your tongue and find a well of saliva already conjured up in your mouth. You spit it onto the tip of Steve’s dick, mouth nudging the tip slightly, “Good.” You both watch it leak over the head and once it reaches a vein, Steve nods, “Spread it around with your-“ You don’t know what came over you, but you just started licking it up and spreading it around with your warm, wet tongue. It just… felt right, “Oh God, keep going- Fuck.”

You swirl your tongue all around him, over his head and down his shaft- wanting to cover every inch of his cock so that he’d feel better.

Steve can’t take it anymore. He was going to ease you into it, but he can’t. The kitten licks are driving him insane and if he waits any longer, he’ll cum all over your face. He doesn’t want that- he wants to cum in your mouth.

So, with his hands cradling your head, he bucks himself into your mouth. You gasp around him, almost choking as he intrudes into your mouth but he shushes you softly and guided you through it, “Just relax.” He coos and nod softly, relaxing your mouth around him as he begins a gentle thrust inside your mouth, “That’s it.”

Steve takes pity on you and only goes as deep as you can fit him. He doesn’t want to gag you- not yet. He’s worried that would only scare you off and that’s the last thing he wants. No, he needs to train you- train your throat to take him as far down as he can.

Your nimble hands squeeze Steve’s thighs every so often when he shoves himself back in and he has to bite his lip so as to not smile. Instead, he just takes that as his sign to praise you even more- he knew how much you loved it.

As he sets a pace, fucking into your face, he already feels himself teetering on the edge of his orgasm- having already started it a few minutes prior so it was no surprise it had arrived so quick.

And as Steve looks down properly at your whimpering form, eyes doed up at him- just waiting for his praises- spit spilling from the corners of your open mouth and tears threatening to spill over your lash line, Steve is done for. A sight he could only dream of- makes him cum in seconds.

He groans as he feels it shoot out of his cock. With his hands still behind your head, he feels your resistance as you try and pull away at the newfound experience of his cum hitting the back of your throat, “It’s okay, take it.” He quickly encourages, “It’s just giving you back all the fluids you gave me.” You nod weakly and unsure, but stay nevertheless and take every last drop.

Once it stops and Steve pulls his cock out of your mouth, you swallow it all down.

Well, Steve certainly didn’t expect that. He had mostly expected you to spit some of it out- was getting ready to tell you a little white lie on how it was good for your body and that you shouldn’t have wasted it.

Which is why he had picked you up off the floor almost instantly, placing you on top of his disk and kissed you. He kissed you! You were frozen in place, but you still let him do it.

Only when he broke away did you finally say something, “Steve-“ You didn’t know much about sex- that mcuh was clear, but you definitely knew that kissing was inappropriate- kissing your captain nonetheless! “Captain, wh-“

“It’s okay- Do you trust me?” He asks you, seeming to totally brush past the fact that he just kissed you! Your hesitation is evident as you look around the room nervously. So you nod softly. “You said you wanted to make me feel better, right?” Steve continues and you nod again- this time more confidently because you were sure of that. You only ever wanted to please Steve… that was kind of like your goal in life… “So then relax.”

Steve kisses you once more and this time you return it. Your lack of experience is telling but it only eggs him on even more.

Distracted by the kiss, you don’t even register how his hands have found their way to your little skirt, pushing it up higher over your thighs.

Only when the cold air meets your revealed cunt do you pull away from the kiss and attempt to close your legs around Steve hands that has his hand buried in your skirt.

You look up at him nervously, and he’s quick to reassure you, “Sh, it’s okay.” And eases your thighs back open.

His fingers meet with your clit and you tense up. Why are you wet? Why now? You have gotten wet a bunch of times before, but why now? Of all the times.

You dip your head in embarrassment as Steve smiles. You’re wet! His fingers slide easily through your folds and you whimper at the sensation. Before you can ask Steve why you feel this way, he’s shoving two fingers into your right, wet hole.

“Steve!” You squeal, clenching tightly around his fingers- making his cock twitch in the air.

“You’re such a good girl. You’re doing so good.” He praises and it works for him like a charm as you become putty in his hold.

Once he deems he’s stretched you out enough, he pulls his fingers out and rubs your little clit with his thumb. You rest your head against his shoulder, eyes falling shut as it sends tingles all through your body.

Again, Steve takes your moment of distraction to take hold of his cock and bring it closer to your weeping cunt sitting at the edge of his desk.

When the head nudges your entrance, you furrow your brows and open your eyes- but before you can question anything, Steve is shoving his cock inside of you.

You cry out, nails digging into his arm, “Steve, that hurts,”

You weakly look up to meet Steve’s gaze as he stills inside you. You pulse around him uncontrollably and it makes Steve feral.

“That’s not how you address me.” He says firmly, and you whimper at his new attitude. He’s mad at you, you’ve done something wrong and you must fix it.

“I’m sorry, Captain, please,” You cry as he begins pulling out. You feel a bit of relief at the familiar empty feeling, breathing deeply and both watching as his cock head is visible again. “Please,” You hardly know what you’re begging for. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t want it to continue.

Steve locks his eyes with yours as he pushes back in- this time it’s much slower and you can’t tell whether that helps or not. You control your breathing to see if that helps and it surprisingly does as when you open up your eyes once more, he’s fully sheathed inside of you again and you hardly remember it being as bad as that first time.

“God, you’re so tight,” He says, burying his face in your neck and inhaling your sweet maple scent, “Don’t think I’m gonna last long,” He laughs.

You don’t exactly know what to respond, or really what any of his words mean, so you kind of just smile weakly.

“Okay, I’m gonna go a little bit faster now,” He says, standing to his full height and firmly grasping your hips. You look at him terrified, but know better. You trust your Captain- and this is supposed to make him feel better… and you kind of feel nice too. At the hesitant look on your face, he brings himself down to kiss you once again- putting you in a momentary trance as he pulls out and begins a steady thrust.

You whine into his mouth, unable to continue the kiss and he smiles against your lips before pulling away and quickening his thrusts.

“Ah, Captain!” You gasp, “It burns.” You heave, clenching so tightly around him Steve genuinely worried for the safety of his cock.

“Tell me when,” He says, unrelenting in his thrusts as you cry beneath him.

“There.” You say, the moment his head shoved through your hole. Steve takes note and now, whenever his head pushes past, he makes sure to rub your clit extra hard. You moan at the feeling of his thumb rubbing you- cancelling out the burn of his cock with pleasure that courses through you, “Ah-“

“Feel better?” He asks, a small smile on his fucked our face as he continues his ruthless thrusts.

You nod meekly, unable to for any words right now as your body adjusts to his thick cock. Pain turns into pleasure and you’re quickly relaxing around him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

And true to his word, Steve isn’t lasting much longer. It only escalated when you relaxed around him, your body finally recognising how much you were made for Steve, wrapping around him in all the right places- like a key in a lock.

Steve’s hood stutter a little and you whine as his cock twitches inside you several times. He curses above you and you’re a little confused until you feel a warmth full you up. It’s a very strange feeling, it almost tickles a little as Steve paints your insides with his hot, white cum.

Steve’s thrusts have slowed a little as he kisses your neck, and you begin working your hips to meet his to regain that fast pace he once had. You feel something building inside of you- you’re not sure what it is, but you just know you want more of Steve.

“Please don’t stop Captain.” You beg, tightening your legs around his hips to cage him in.

Steve’s eyes light up at the way you’re now begging- when almost a few minutes ago you were almost crying. As he smiles down at you, he picks up the pace of his hips- uncaring to the overstimulation it gives him.

He rubs your clit much faster now as he thrusts into you and whispers a non-stop praises into your ear.

“Doing so good for me,” He says, “Make me so proud, my pretty girl,” Oh, you just about melt, “You’re gonna cum for me, huh?” He asks, “Can feel it in here, hmm?” He presses down on your stomach a little and you moan much louder, “Oh, you like that? You’re such a good girl,”

It’s too much. His words, his thumb, his cock. You snap- well, not really but you feel something snap inside of you. It feels so good and warm, and your cunt pulses around his cock tenfold.

You gasp a little, so unsure of what you’re feeling, but you’re not complaining. It feel so good.

As Steve guides you down your high, you find yourself kissing his neck softly, leaving a small hickey. Your eyes widen a little at the red mark, unsure if Steve would’ve permitted you to do that. But before you can apologise, he’s pulling out of you slowly and you’re frowning at the emptiness.

“This has to be our little secret.” Steve then says, tucking himself into his pants and zipping them up.

You look up at him curiously, letting him take a tissue and clean you up haphazardly before putting both your panties and skirt back in place.

“Why?” You ask, genuinely unsure, “What if the other boys-“

“No.” The grip on your jaw is threatening and you swallow thickly as you look up into his eyes… they look… darker? “Only. Me.” He says, “Maybe Sargent Barnes if you’re lucky, but until I tell you so, just me. Do you understand?” You nod immediately.

You didn’t know what that meant- also what Sargent Barnes had anything to do with this either. But… you had to trust your Captain. You did trust your Captain.

“Yes, sir.”

Smiling, he softens his grip on your jaw but his hand remains, “Good girl.” He nods, pressing a few small kisses to your lips, “You make me so proud, you know that?”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

OH.

BUCKYS TURN. PART TWO HERE.

idk if this was as dark as it could b buttttttttt go easy on me i’ve never written dark stuff before!

anyway happy birthday steve

#steve rogers #steve x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #captain america

4K notes · View notes

darkdemeter · 3 months

Text

ONE AND THE SAME, LONELY AND AFRAID

— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

—- not my gifs, found on pinterest, credit to original posters! -—

| A/N | DISCRETION |

I dunno what to really say about this piece, brain just switched into angsty, (kinda fluffy?) writing mode and I went with it.

Therapy — angst — hurt comfort? — (introverted) reader — insecurity warning — semi-established mutual pining/interest — strong language — socially awkward bean reader — basically reader has a lot of reservations about things that involve other people, more of a self isolated type — self sabotage — we got a mutual-semi happy ending — I think that's it?

| SUMMARY |

You've always opted to be alone. Recent visits to Dr Raynor, however, work to bring down those walls you hold up. Little are you aware that someone you're talking to is very much the same as you. Lonely and afraid.

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7.6K(words)

| M-LIST | TAGLIST:

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl

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“Have you been keeping up with the exercises I gave you?”

Already she knows the answer. Not even three seconds can you maintain eye contact, eyes feeling glassy each time you near the braving point. It’s futile. People can hear what you’re saying right? Why the need to have your eyes glued to them?

Your shoulders shove up weakly and Dr Raynor rhythmically paces the pen’s butt against her notebook.

“That’s a no,” she sighs, “I gave you those exercises to help you. Eye contact, let’s start with that again: what do you find so intimidating about it?”

The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your gaze is still glued to a random place on the wall behind her. That is the closest you can give her today.

Her lips push together and her eyes thin in that way you assumed all of these doctors do, a tactic to unnerve you into squeezing out the details. To weed out the problems. You don’t like it. Your fingers are crushed in the grip of your other hand sitting in your lap idly.

Again, you shrug. “Just that. Intimidating. It’s… a lot.”

“There’s more to it for you. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that, it terrifies you when someone looks at you. Focuses their attention on you.”

“Maybe it’s something like that…” You tilt your head slightly. “Maybe it’s not.”

I don’t like being here. I just wanna go. I still have fifteen minutes.

“Your family is worried about you. You have a tendency to be self isolating. Reserved. They’re concerned that you’ve been alone.” She’s spitting words at you. Family concerns have always been the bane of your lonely ways. Their constant insistence to put yourself out there, to go out on at least one date.

Try to talk you into meeting people they know, saying that they will be good for you. All because they’ve grown far too comfortable with being with someone, that they can’t stand to be alone themselves. And then, they have to project that onto you.

“It’s a choice.”

“What can you tell me about your intimate life? Partners, significant others.”

The jutting of your pouty lip is any indication that a cheeky remark is right on the edge of your tongue. She stops you right before you can say a word.

“Stuff toys and pets do not count.”

“But they’re companions. You wanna know about my companion life, right?”

“Just answer the question.”

It takes another five minutes. Pure and slow in time, each waver of the ticking hands beats another seconds off the appointment. But it’s not fast enough for your liking. Tongue tracing the curves of your gums and teeth, you contemplate.

Dr. Raynor says your name to draw your attention back - escaped into the cosmos - now forced right back into the couch in her office.

“Seeing someone? Talking to anyone?”

“Sure.”

“Anything else?” She raises a gesturing hand, a silent command for you to speak further. To give her further information. Personal information that’s yours. Safe in your head. There’s no point giving that out to others.

“Just talking to him is all.”

“So neither of you have met in person before?”

Lips rolling inward, thinning, you shake your head. “No.”

Your name is drawn from her lips as a low sigh. She scrawls something down in her notebook, albeit a little aggressively.

“Money is being wasted each and every time you come in here, sit on this couch and say nothing. Resolve nothing. Time is being wasted, time you could be spending out there, actually bonding with someone who you may call a friend or a significant other.”

“I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

Her eyes roll up to meet yours, the split second you manage to meet her eyes, you see the scrutiny. The disdaining judgement and patience that wanes thin for every drop of time in the remaining minutes left.

“That wasn’t even two proper seconds,” she notes, “and yet, you come to your sessions each time.”

“Because if I don’t, then that same concerned family chews my ear off about it.”

Another two minutes pass by. You count the ticking hands slowly. Far too slow. When will this fucking nightmare end? Dr. Raynor continues to pounce her pen on the pad’s paper, the sound a distant, drumming beat.

“From what I’ve gathered, your siblings all have partners of their own, some of them beginning to grow their families. Am I correct?”

You nod as your teeth sink into the inside of your lip. “Right in the ballpark.”

“And you are so comfortable with being alone because it’s all you know. You’re afraid of letting someone in. You rather keep your guard up than ever risk giving someone a chance to love and accept you. I have another patient just like that. Shut off from the world and distrusting.”

It’s like she read your mind. You almost applaud her for her scooby doo investigation. “Wow, way to keep the confidentiality, Doctor,” you breeze through a forced, tight smile, eyes still cast to somewhere else in the room. “It’s better to keep people at arms length. Easier to detach from.”

“And is that what you’re doing with this guy? Keeping him at arm’s length?”

“Sure. I guess.”

Three minutes remaining. You breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s almost over.

Then it lingers on your mind… “Tell me because I’m curious, but why are people obsessed with the idea that being alone is such a bad thing?”

It’s closing in on one minute. A single minute she has to deliver you an answer. Of course, usually she disregards questions like this. But today, she indulges. Maybe, just maybe, this is your way of breaking through to her. To finally and truly give her something to work with.

“I will tell you what I told another patient of mine. Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.”

The chiming of the appointment’s bell signifies its end. You’re eager to stand up from the couch but Dr. Raynor holds a hand up. “Before you go running off back to your lonely hell, I want you to perform at least one exercise.”

At first, you mean to brush her off, your eyes refuse to meet the piercing stare you know is burrowing into your soul, seeking you out in the darkness of your reservations. “Alright. Sure…”

“If you’re interested in this guy, I want you to make the first move and ask to meet up with him. Begin to lower your walls.”

You’ve done it. Just as she asked of you. In hindsight, you should have just ignored her. In honesty, it’s been a while since your heart has bruised your ribs with such intensity in its anxious rage. What if he said no? Neither of you had ever really flirted heavily or indicated that you were head over heels, eager to see each other.

As if you both just knew, you were each settled comfortably in this mutual exchange of words. No video, no voice messages or calls. Just words. Conversations about work, some random things happening during the week and other topics people chat about.

You were meant to feel brave in that moment. To feel invigorated as you take that daring leap of faith outside the comfort of your own space. A safety net you had taken great care to curate, to save yourself from ever falling to the ground with no will to get back up.

In your mind, you’ve seen your siblings go through enough failed relationships that it in some strange way, you’ve experienced it on some outside level. You’ve gained the knowledge that if you let someone - a stranger - in then they will find a way to hurt you one way or another.

But what about that lucky person? That destined soulmate everyone raves on about. Could you really stand going through failure after failure, after seeing the damage it caused your loved ones?

Why risk it? I’m just putting a target on my heart that says “hurt me, please!”.

However, with the following silence after, you believe you had your answer. He wasn’t interested in you. He just wants to remain mutuals. You understand that, you accept it wholeheartedly. It saves you from getting hurt, from him getting hurt and that’s all that matters.

Having your heart broken because you allowed love to blind you to rational thought isn’t something you’re wanting to bring to one of your appointments.

Around ten minutes later he responded. His answer leaves you in a state on the bathroom floor, on your arse, back pressed against the sink cabinets and your chest heaving for any amount of oxygen. The world’s closing in around you, it’s turning against you. Eyes watering until your waterline is drowning and blurry, your hands rake through your hair and grasp at the roots.

The olive branch you extended is received by him whilst your mind spirals into the pools of doubt and sabotage. He’s accepted your bold invitation.

How can I go on a date? I can’t keep eye contact, I don’t know how to act or what to say!

What do we talk about in person? How much is too much?

Maybe it was a mistake. Would it be rude if you pretended it was a joke? You think it over once, then twice. It plays on repeat what you plan to say to get out of this ordeal you’ve now thrown yourself into. You get another notification that lights up your phone screen.

Be nice to finally meet you 7 tomorrow night sound good? ┗

Sure! 7 sounds good heh ┗

there’s a place not far from where I live I like to go to.. unless there’s somewhere else you wanna go ┗

Ugh, why does that sound so… so… desperate? I should probably call it off right now before this gets out of hand.

I’ll see you there Doll just name it ┗

Your heart flutters at the nickname. It makes you feel childish and you cringe that you find yourself swooning over it, but every time he uses it, there’s something that makes you feel special. Like you’re the only one he calls that. After you text him the address, you pass the phone away, leaving it to sit on the sink’s edge. Hands cupping your face, the tears still seeping along the rim of your eyes with a fighting intent to be free. For so long you have kept them bottled up.

And now to be faced with this. You don’t feel ready to be doing this. Your fingers had been hovering over the keys, mind already texting that you had made a silly joke just to see how he’d react. But Dr. Raynor’s words from earlier that day crept into the forefront of your mind, stopping you in your tracks.

‘Being alone is the most quietest and personal hell someone can endure.’

“You haven’t been having nightmares lately. That’s good,” Dr. Raynor says, notebook sitting in absence on her folded leg, pen loose between her fingers. So far, she hasn’t had to write much. A few notes, a sentence or two. Overall, she sees a little more progress. Even if it’s just a little.

“And the girl you’re talking with. Have you two been communicating much lately? Do you think that, maybe, she could be a benefiting factor?”

“We’ve been talking,” Bucky answers with a nod, voice rumbly. “I don’t know.”

“Your nightmares stem from the decades of trauma that still need to be thinned out of your system. And there are outlets that can help with the healing process. Nurturing relationships is one of them.”

As if he hasn’t heard that line before. Being told to nurture his relationships.

“Tell me more about her. What’s been going on between you both?” For a moment, Bucky remains quiet. His teeth roll his bottom lip, biting down before his lips part. Gaze once settled elsewhere, his eyes find hers with firm contact.

The type of contact she wishes she can see from you.

“She’s asked to meet up. I’m seeing her tonight.”

“I understand you two have been talking for a while. Around three months now, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“And… How does that make you feel? You finally have a chance to meet someone face to face and take this relationship to the next stage.”

The question had come right out of the blue for Bucky. After a day out in the field with Sam, all he wanted to do was shower, have a beer and see if you had messaged him. And the conversation had carried out like normal with asking about each other’s day, followed by some playful banter. And then, Bucky was faced with the one topic that had been on his mind for the past few weeks, plaguing him with the idea of possibly meeting each other after all this time, to put a face to a name.

But to think that this could bridge into something further. Something far more intimate. Bucky’s shoulders push up with a heavy sigh.

“I dunno, Doc. I’ve been thinking about meeting her. But being by myself for so long now, it’s normal for me.”

Dr. Raynor squares her shoulders, eyes staring point blank like the barrel of a gun at her patient. “A hurdler doesn’t avoid the obstacles. You have to take that leap, James, and explore these new possibilities before they slip through your fingers. From what you’ve told me, she sounds similar to you.”

“And if things don’t go as I hope? If she pulls away?”

“Then pull her closer. And give her the chance to pull you closer. Start to trust in someone outside of those walls.”

You pace back and forth along the wide strip sidewalk, the night’s air chills you through your clothing. But at this point that could just be the nerves. Why did you have to be bold, why did you have to actually listen to Dr. Raynor? Arriving just a little before the agreed time, you took the time to rehearse things over. Maybe squeeze in a little practice before you make a complete idiotic display of yourself.

By now, you guess it’s just past 7. How the hell are you supposed to know who he is if you’ve never seen one another before? Man, now that you think about it, you really didn’t think this through.

Last time I do any of these fucking exercises…

Quickly stealing a glance down at your phone to get a read on the time, you see you’ve received no message yet.

Maybe he… changed his mind last minute?

Well that really makes you look like an idiot. Shit, you really could slap yourself into tomorrow for getting baited into your own doings. You barely register the thrumming heart of a motorcycle’s engine roaring down the street beside you, purring lowly to a stop.

You shrug to yourself suddenly, the leaping of your heart coaxing your anxiety to grow further, as doubt shrouds over. Your feet shuffle to carry you back in the direction of your favourite ice cream joint. Might as well pick up a little frosty snack on the way back home.

“Okay, I’m stupid. He’s not— oop–!” Someone is the poor victim of your distracted escape, their body is large and broad, arms circling around you to catch you from tripping onto the hard concrete.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” you groan, eyes quick to seek out a face only to glimpse away as soon as you note the intensity of bright blue; gaze focused solely on you as if you were the only thing that existed.

“All good,” he says. His voice only brings to shake you, slightly husky and the oh so perfect pitch. You do your best to straighten yourself and from his hold, out of habit, you’d grown used to not being touched unless you were the one to initiate it. A skill - or rather lack thereof - you’re not very proud of. Not that members of your family made it any easier whenever they pointed it out.

Distant. Closed off. Stiff.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I was… just uh, was meeting up with a guy.”

“Hmph, me too,” he breezes with a deep exhale. You try to ignore the way your peripheral picks up on his body’s outline moving. “She wanted to meet here.”

“Huh, good spot. One of my small hang out spots.” Your balled fists only curl tighter into the pockets of your jacket as another chilling wind attacks your body. Maybe you should settle on a hot beverage instead of some ice cream.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Really nice.”

You both stand idle by one another, the air beginning to lace heavily with the tension of your interaction, both awkward in your butting spaces. Bucky spares a more studying glance at you. A sleeveless, cropped turtleneck with a leather, hooded jacket layering over, you opted to keep the palette simple with your dark, skinny jeans and heeled boots.

You looked dressed up to be on some casual date. Whoever it was you were waiting on was a lucky guy, Bucky thought. In no disrespect to the girl he was messaging, but he figured he would have shot his shot with you had it not been for this mystery girl.

“You hang around here a lot?” he questions to come off as casual and laid back as possible.

“Oh, sure. Yeah… I like it here.”

Bucky finds himself smiling at your response. Strange, he figures, how you seem familiar. Still, he catches on that he hasn’t gotten a proper look at your face. It’s like you're purposefully avoiding looking at him. Did you know him? The aided curse of his sensitive hearing allows him to hear the rapid racing of your heartbeat, like a poor hamster terrified out of its mind.

You can feel him staring at you with the occasional glimpse down at his phone, held in his gloved hand.

“Goodluckwithyourdate. Bye.” You say it far too quickly, it takes Bucky a moment to decipher what you’ve said. His head snaps back and forth in a double take, catching you already walking down the sidewalk, huddled in close to shield yourself. How he knows that feeling internally.

Now you’ve gained his full attention. For Bucky, there was some missing piece to all this. He’s quick to type. Just a little experiment…

Here, Doll, just waiting on you ┗

His jaw tightens, teeth clenching in his observation. You stop when your phone buzzes to life in your pocket. Retrieving it, you read the message. Bucky only has to wait for about a minute before he sees the message.

Ha, I was here first. Where are you?? ┗

You tell me Doll… ┗

you don’t happen to be wearing knitted gloves, right? ┗

Your brows furrow for a moment. How could he know, you haven’t even–

Slowly, you lift your eyes from the blaring screen of your text messages. He now knew it and to think he’s the guy you were waiting on. If anything, this is some fortunate, golden strike.

As your gaze moves to fall over your half turned shoulder that faces back towards him, he manages to catch half of your visage and the radiant haven of your eyes, what little you allow to show.

“I take it you’re Y/N.” He smiles a toothy smile. With any luck, his attempt to charm will work.

“And you’re Bucky?”

He nods in response and you let yourself wander forwards, phone tucked away and your arms folded together.

“I–I, uh… wow, this is embarrassing ,” you all but mutter to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

“How so?”

“I suck at meeting people,” you utter a little louder. Your shoulders shrug with the motion of your confession. You only dread the look in those blue eyes that you can’t bring yourself to glance up into. What if you see something that gives away his intentions? What if you give away what’s going on in your own mind to him, for him to see all the fear right there like an open book to be read. Knowledge to be obtained and used against you.

“Maybe if you looked at people once and a while,” he chuckles.

Oh… he likes someone who can maintain eye contact.

“Yeah, what a shame. Oh well, nice meeting you.”

The abruptness cuts him. Wounds him like a dark chill that runs his spine. His shoulders straighten then and the bevel between his brows grows in depth, the puzzlement of his confusion evident on his face that you don’t take the time to read. Not when he can easily catch contact with your now glossy eyes.

Again, you’re making off in a hurry.

Pull her closer, it’s the only thought that crosses his mind.

“Wait, wait up!” he calls out quickly, voice sharp that he sees your entire body flinch at the command, but you carry on. He doesn’t want to scare you away. His gloved hand cups over your elbow.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says with a sigh, “I’m bad at meeting people at times too.”

“Really?” You don’t mean to sound distrusting, if he interpreted it that way, each to their own at the end of the day.

“Yeah, that whole… dating scene is crazy these days.”

You cannot find yourself more inclined to agree with that. Seeing how much the world has changed around you, and you’re only in your twenties. Plenty of more room to change. Thinking about the future is what you consider an anxiety inducing pass time, one you try not to get carried away with.

“Tell me ‘bout it,’ you huff. You flex your ankle, the heel scuffing softly against the pavement, hopefully grinding some form of inspiration to make you less awkward. Though you fear the damage has been done.

He chuckles. “Glad we’re agreeable in person. C’mon, mind giving me a tour of your little hang out?”

“Sure,” you agree with a small smile, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair, “I know a little place up this way.”

“I like your gloves,” Bucky says, clicking his tongue, when spared a moment he glances off to the side in his miserable cringe, what the hell was that move?

But he didn’t expect for your chin to be raised a little higher and a much warmer smile to grace your lips. Wow, he still couldn’t get over it. A cute, beautiful girl like yourself happening to be the one he’s been communicating with all this time.

“Thanks.” You suppress a giggle, the sound small in your throat. “Look. Glove twins.”

Seeing you raise your gloved hand up, he saves you from any further embarrassment and meets yours almost immediately, palms straight and pressed together in a mockery to a high five.

“Well, look at that.” His lips tug into an amused grin.

For a second you meet his gaze, but as quick as anything, the connection is lost. As you drop your hand back to your side, you feel warmth creep into your cheeks. How your lack of eye contact can be a burden at times. All you want to do is look at this guy, get a read of him without the need to sneak fleeting glances whenever you could.

All you can settle on now is that he’s down right cute. Handsome.

No way this guy is single. How some chick could just give him a false number. My number.

You wander further down the street together, side by side, occasionally arms brushing against one another before you stop and jab a thumb at the small bar. “Here it is. Heh, quaint place. I, uh… like coming here. Obviously.”

While he’s distracted with his observation, you take a few seconds to actually look at him.

Casually dressed, so much like yourself. Chiselled features, intense yet stunning eyes you believe you’ve ever seen, and broad. Damn well towering high above you. Next to him, you feel like a gummy bear. Why that comparison, you have no idea, but you find it fitting.

Thus so far he doesn’t put himself as intentionally dangerous or harmful, not towards you anyway. You’d bet all that’s in your wallet he’d cause some serious damage if he wanted to.

“Nice little joint.” You hum softly and nod in agreement, eyes sinking low to instead scan the fabric of his jacket instead of his reaction when you know his gaze is on you.

You bob your head in the direction of the door, indicating him to follow you inside. But Bucky, if anything, was raised in the century of etiquette and manners. Especially in the company of a woman. Your smaller, gloved hand reaches for the door until his own comes forward, pulling the door open for you.

“After you, Doll.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Again, that warm crimson settles in your cheeks, causing the rest of your body to heat up, soon enough you won’t need the gloves and jacket to keep you warm.

You lead him over to a window booth, sliding in over the overworn cushions and he takes the one opposite you. Not too soon after does the regular waitress greet you with a pearly smile, blonde hair tied back into a ponytail.

“Y/N!” she gasps widely, “So good to see you. What can I get you and your man tonight?” She flashes a wink down towards you both. Out of sheer interest, Bucky’s eyes drift to land on you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly into a smirk.

“Wh– he, oh no, he’s not– we’re not… just the regular, thanks.”

Tongue tied. You fucking hate situations that plant you on the spot, on your arse. Like an ungraceful landing after jumping the wagon. Fuck, you’re making yourself look even more weird in front of him. Why this sudden need to act like a normal human being around him is present, you find it confusing. But from trial and error, you’ve always somehow managed to mark yourself as a strange one.

It was better to keep things short between interactions. But with Bucky, something has come over you that makes you want to trust him. Be open with him. But you know you can’t. People can hide their true nature for lengths at a time that they deem necessary. You’re not about to give this guy a loaded gun to turn on you.

With a nod, the waitress nods and writes down in her notepad, she looks to Bucky expectantly.

“I’ll have what she’s having and can we get two beers with the order.”

“Can do. That will be with you both shortly.” With an affirmative nod, the waitress heads off to deliver the new order.

“If you just want to dip any time during… this, then I understand.” For the second time tonight, Bucky’s face contorts with deeply rooted confusion. His smile is the product of his being unsure whether you’re serious or joking. “Why would I do that?”

Your shoulders move up sharply with a shrug.

Because you don’t want to be around me.

“I’m not leaving you by yourself. You asked to meet up and I’m here.”

Touching words that you wish to believe in them wholeheartedly. Surely though, he’s only saying that out of courtesy.

“I tend to stay out pretty late towards the weekend.”

Now it’s his turn to shrug. “So do I.”

Once the food and beers arrived, you found it easier to distract yourself, able to roll the bottle between your hands, feeding off of your meal bit by bit throughout conversation.

“Like I said before, don’t feel obligated to stay out late. Don’t want to keep your girl waiting.” A small tactic, albeit you disbelieve that it’s very discreet, it’s an obvious tell that you want to know if he’s single or not. You’re no expert in the dating pool but that just has to be right up there in some top ten listed prompts.

“Not leaving you. I don’t have a girl waiting on me, don’t worry, Doll.” You almost choke on your next bite, drowning it down your throat with a gulp of beer. You almost meet his eyes, opting to focus just below them. There is absolutely no way in hell this guy is single.

Bucky figures he’d shoot his shot, now that the identity of mystery girl and you were one and the same.

“Hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind I’m stealing you for the night.”

Why did he word it like that?!

“Ha. Boyfriend,” you sigh, mouth pinching towards the side. Briefly, you notice the furrow in his brows.

Dammit, why is he so fucking cute?

“No boyfriend,” he drawls lowly over the rim of his bottle.

You shake your head. “Nope.”

He can tell by the way you roll the singular word, emphasising the p with a sharp popping sound. Bitterness.

“Why?” He watches you intently as he takes a drink of his beer, meanwhile, you're turning your bottle left and right, like trying to crack the code to some safe.

Didn’t want to risk getting hurt.

“Just…” You pause with a heavy sigh, heat covers your eyes that you now direct to stare down at the table. “Never made the effort, if I’m honest.”

“You like being alone.”

“Prefer it, actually. Easier that way.”

Of that, Bucky completely understands. After everything he’s been through, being alone has just made things simple. Lonely but simpler. He notices the many couples and maybe it would be nice to have someone there. But how can he find normalcy after everything he’s done? Is he deserving of it?

He wants peace. Dr. Raynor believes that’s bullshit but she can’t understand that he wants peace for himself. To feel comfortable. Accepted. Perhaps loved, if any deity or supernatural entity from above condones it.

But then, why are you so comfortable in your loneliness? He wonders about it.

“My doctor keeps telling me to try and engage with people. Open up. That sort of shit.”

“Mine too.”

Another funny coincidence you both find in each other. During your time talking over text, you both managed to find out you attended doctor appointments. Therapy and not by your own choice either. By some other force that dictated you needed help.

“People are so afraid of being alone these days. World’s dangerous, sure, but so are the people you thought you could trust. But people are desperate, I guess. They’ll risk it.”

Bucky cannot help the way the corner of his eyes curl slightly, lips stretching into a pursed smile to contain his amusement as much as possible.

“What?” you ask, head tilting slightly, your eyes having now settled on the booth’s texture right over his shoulder.

He shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “You often on the defensive when it comes to people?”

“Have to be. Don’t know their intentions. Could be anything.”

“And what about me?”

You shrug again, gaze torn between meeting his and keeping it far, far away. “Like you said before, if I looked at people once and a while. But I can’t. So I’ll never know, I guess.”

He frowns slightly at this. If your body language is telling him anything right now is that his question pushed you into a corner. You felt trapped when confronted by his curiosity. You didn’t answer him, not exactly, but if your response did anything it’s that you tend to avoid answering when you get pushed.

You don’t seem to be the overly aggressive type up front. But if backed into that corner, that is when you may very well lash out. A defensive tactic. A once victim tactic.

Both of you are pulled from the thicket of your scattered thoughts and silence when the waitress returns with the check. You begin to shuffle around in your pocket, obtaining your half of the meal when Bucky stops you.

“My treat,” he says and hands his money to the blonde worker.

“N-no, that’s okay. I’m fine with paying my side.”

He tuts you with a shake of his head, eyes penetrating your very soul for the moment you meet it.

Don’t look at me like that please… heart’s going too fast. Just let me pay for my food.

“I was born and raised in a time that I pay for the date. Let me cover it.”

Not that you have much choice to argue. He’d already handed off the money and the waitress took away your finished plates and beers.

Your bottom lip curls outwards into a pout. You feel bad that he felt like he had to do that. For him to pay out more than what was required.

In that regard, he leans back slightly, chin held higher a little more. He believes he’s won this round. But if anything, you’re adamant to pay him back.

“Here.” You slide the bill towards him, ignoring the way his eyes narrow slightly to your challenge. “Just accept it, please? I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t waste your money.”

Reluctantly, he nods and accepts the money and you mumble a soft thanks.

Time flew by as you both wandered together, giving him a general tour of the area. Small bouts of banter passed between you both, and general topics of discussion like work and time passers were made to fill the void of silence. Even still, you kept everything at surface level, never really exploring any deeper thoughts, much like him. But those very rare glimpses were only brief glimpses into one another’s life.

At least you both could report to your respective doctors that you tried, still in the dark that Dr. Raynor was the host of your separate appointments.

Coming through the way you came you reach your initial meeting spot, the sidewalk more open with people now on their way back home at the later hour.

“No, Sam just talks too much,” Bucky grumbles in his chuckle, an amused grin forming on your lips. He could just make out the rows of teeth.

“Sounds like a fun guy.”

“Definitely.” You hear the grumbling breathlessness in his tone. When he glimpses to his side he finds your eyes, quick to steal whatever he can get of those capturing colours that are far too swift to avert.

Fuck. Can’t even make it to five seconds. I’m getting nowhere with this eye contact exercise.

Following him, he leads you over to his bike and your eyes narrow curiously. So it was him that owned the motorcycle you heard earlier that evening.

“I guess this is where we part ways for the night.” You bounce your head in the direction of your place. “Was good finally meeting you, Bucky.”

That didn’t sit well with him. A lot can happen on the walk back to your place and he didn’t feel completely ready to let you go for the night. Eyes tearing between you and his bike with quick thinking, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. He hoists a leg over his bike, straddling the seat and rolling his arm to beckon you closer.

“Why don’t we go for a quick ride? Then I’ll drop you home.”

“Nah, besides I’ve never… I-I’m good. I like the walk home.”

Bucky is quickly picking up a sort of pattern. Still, he can’t shake the need to just hang around you a little longer, nor the guilt he’d have for just leaving you. Chivalry at its finest, he shakes his head sternly, dismounting the bike, you see the way his body moves fluently with the action.

Fucking stop doing that!

Your mind is dancing two different dances. Rational thought and that bubbly, giddiness that often leads swooning victims into blinded trouble.

“Alright, we’ll walk together then.”

“Wait– you can’t just leave your–”

He begins to lead you off in the direction you’d motioned to before. “I’ll come back for it.”

“Bucky.” He sees the defiant pout and crossing of your arms. Indeed, a cute sight to behold.

He smirks, and shit, you couldn’t meet anything above the bridge of his nose then, but did you admire what you could.

“It’s your call. We can either walk or take the bike.”

He’s played a few rounds of this game already with you. Numerous times you’ve had to choose between one option or the other, a few of those being a tad embarrassing, but his assurance provided some semblance of comfort.

But what felt like a game before now feels like more than that now. Before it was fun, easy and not serious. This, however, was not a round you can simply forfeit from. It’s either option one or two.

Your chest expands with a large inhale. Blinking, you contemplate and weigh the options. “We’ll take the bike.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make a rider out of you, Doll.” It didn’t help the flush that scorches and freezes your body simultaneously when he adds a wink to his witty flirtations.

You try to not let it get to you. Not to let goosebumps riddle your skin and send your nerves endings aflame. But he’s making it hard. He leads you back towards the bike and he grabs the helmet.

“Here, you can use this.”

You focus on the protective helm and though you mean to protest, worried about what he’d do about himself, he’s already tucking your head in.

You make a small noise as he wriggles it in place and through the visor, you can finally meet his eyes.

With the blacked out visor to shield your eyes, you finally and truly admire the - unfortunately muted - hue of blue that entrances you, intense as the hottest levelled flame. He’s smiling down at you.

“How’s it fit?”

“Good!” you call, giving him a thumbs up. He nods with that assurance and directs you to mount the bike behind him. But you’re going shy on him and he cocks his head slightly, brows knitted in their concern.

Even when you preferred to be the one to initiate contact, that didn’t mean you were used to or fond of it. What if you held him too tightly, or what if you touched him somewhere he wasn’t comfortable with.

Mounting the bike behind him, you at first put about an inch or two of space between you both. “Get on closer.”

You fail to hide the mousey squeak when his hands pull at your thighs, tugging them forward until they rest against him, your hands find purchase on the broad space of his shoulders.

He does it cautiously, he seeks out your wrists when they slide down the scape of his back, and you - warily - let him pull them around his torso. He exhales slowly, giving himself a second to comprehend having your hold around him. Why does he feel this way? Now that he has you like this, he can’t bear to think about losing it.

“Hold on tight now,” he instructs and with a heavy bob of your head, thanks to the helmet, he lets the engine purr to life and he feels your arms grow a little tighter.

Rolling the bike back a little, he lets a car pass by before he speeds off down the way, the bike’s roar pulses through your entire body until for sure you’ve gone numb and you only hold onto Bucky tighter.

The surge of adrenaline fills you until you’re on high, blood boiling hot in your veins as he flies through the traffic. For taking things usually at your own pace, it felt good to have a little speed kick in.

Taking a sudden turn to the left would have made you question your decision to take the bike - should have scared you - but it didn’t. Not with Bucky. For what feels like ages now, you feel that you can trust him.

“How you doing back there?” he asks, straining his voice to yell over the bike’s power. You doubt very much he’d be able to hear you, not when you only just managed to hear him, you opt to nod your head vigorously. He feels it against the muscles of his back and his lips tug upwards.

Accelerating slightly more, he feels your body grow giddy, jostling a little as you laugh behind him while he weaves through traffic. It really shows that you’ve never been on a bike before now. And since that’s the case, he’s determined to make it an unforgettable experience.

With any wishful thinking, you’ll want to go for another ride with him.

Bucky puts the now overwhelmed engine to rest for a little while, all thanks to his plan to impress you. “Here we are.” He lets his eyes rake over the few story building, a little settlement of apartments, currently parked round back that shows a short paved walkway to your backdoor. Going through the front door was usually hectic with your neighbours, good people honestly, but after a tiring day it could get a bit much.

This way, you could be left alone.

“This is me,” your voice says through the helmet. You dismount before him and unlike Bucky, your movements aren’t as well versed. But for him, that just adds to your charm.

You let him stand close to you as he retrieves his helmet, being gentle to pry it off.

Once that visor is gone, so too does your resolve to look into his eyes, the connection lost with the helmet’s absence.

“Thanks for driving me home. I… had a good time.”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky’s lips thin into a smile. This was it then, the end of your little outing together. He doesn’t want to come off strong but how can he be so sure that you’ll be so bold again? How long would he have to wait?

That’s why he’s pulling you closer again. It may be scary but at this point, he’s willing to risk it, if it means to have another meeting with you. To see you again.

“Well, goodnight Bucky. I’ll talk to you—” You’d only begun to turn towards the narrow walkway when you’re stopped. Pulled back until you’re practically flushed against Bucky’s front. He’s pressing something into the palm of your hand. Thin, like paper. Peering down, you see the bill you’d given him.

However, you don’t have any other choice when his other hand tilts your chin up.

Oh no.

“Give me five seconds,” he breathes out, voice hopeful. Your chin trembles, only just able to look at him through your lashes, but even then your focus dives downward, but his fingers remain to keep your head from bowing.

“I-I can’t…”

“You can. Take your time.”

Why he’s doing this, you have no clue, and why he’s willing to be patient; it’s just downright confusing. Who in their right mind would have time for this? At times, you barely have enough time to deal with your own shit.

To save himself from waiting for a literal eternity, you rip the bandaid, and you meet his eyes. No visor, no secretive glimpses here and there stolen. You stare straight up, right into those blues that can very well drown you.

Your lungs tighten and struggle to maintain a steady pattern, you feel the welling of tears glass over your eyes with each second you count. Slowly.

One… two…

His eyes remain gentle with you. Tender and kind. You’re not seeing anything… bad, like he wants to hurt you. he could be hiding it really well. But for yourself, you’re sure he can see every single rational and irrational fear, every painful memory in your teary eyes. Your vision begins to cloud, like the fight to stay above the crashing waves.

Three… four…

Buck’s hand lowers slowly but you don’t register it. You can’t. It’s something that occurs in the background, unattuned to it. You see in those wonderfully coloured hues that he's just as haunted as you are or even more.

He’s lonely as you are. Afraid as you are. Shadows of his own past, you can see them. Made him into the person he is in front of you. And you can’t blame him, no matter what it is that haunts him.

You see a once victim in him just as much as you see in the mirror every morning.

“Same time next Friday?” he asks, his voice is low, almost a whisper. His chest expands as he holds his breath.

“Sure.” You share a smile between you two, cheeks glowing warm and bright red.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Him leaving the proximity of your personal space leaves you gasping for air, blinking the tears in your eyes rapidly, you watch him retreat to his bike. Until next Friday, you’d wait to see him then.

“Talk soon, Doll,” he calls out with a wave once he’s atop his vehicle. Looking at it now, you can still feel the vibrations in your legs.

“Mhm. Until then.”

You take your leave then, entering your apartment and shutting the door behind you in tandem with him riding off into the night. Planting your back against the door to ground you does little to affect, still you’re floating.

This new feeling welling inside your chest, a flutter in your stomach… It scares you. Is this feeling why people are afraid to be alone? You don’t know what to think.

All you do know is that you gave him ten seconds.

#treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #angst #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you

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noroi1000 · 1 year

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Love Hotel

Dom Gojo x Sub fem reader

Summary: The only hotel in the area is the love hotel. After completing the mission, you went there with your friend.To rest before returning to home. There is only one bed...And he also had a plan...While you were in the shower, he started masturbating...He asked you for help.

Warnings: NSFW (oral-men receiving; breeding kink, size difference kink; masturbation; degradation kink)

Words: 4k

"You really don't have two separate rooms?" you asked as you stood in front of the receptionist's counter.

Her face was hidden behind dull glass.

"Sorry. We only have this. All other rooms are occupied." She replied looking at you and Gojo next to you, even though she couldn't see your faces.

Love hotels must ensure discretion. And you just found one where the service is behind frosted glass.

This woman was wondering why you guys came to a love hotel if you want separate rooms anyway.

Either you have other partners or you want to sleep.

However, overnight bookings do not start until 10pm. There's still half an hour left.

However, even if you want to spend the night here, there is only one large room available.

You thought of something that might happen... Since people come here for a few hours just to have sex, maybe a room will open up soon.

"Are there any bookings that are ending?" you asked.

You'd be a little disgusted to sleep in a bed where someone just fucked, but this hotel looks expensive. So the staff will definitely change the sheets after each guest.

But you'd send Gojo there anyway.

You finished the mission an hour ago. However, you would have to wait two hours for the next train to Tokyo. And it's late.

That's why you wanted to sleep.

However, the closest possible hotel was a love hotel...

That's why you already casually went there with him...

But to spite you, there was only one room...

"Unfortunately, they all end in three hours. Or four." she said. You heard the computer keyboard tapping as she checked.

You sighed.

The woman looked again at the outline of the White Haired Man.

She thought you came to the love hotel with the old man... She really thought so... Because he has white hair, and he's a man...

He's just grey. And that's why this idea popped into her mind.

"The only room available is large. Larger than a typical double." she said.

There's a light bulb in your mind.

Larger than a double? So is there a chance there are two beds?

"We'll take it." Gojo said suddenly as he put his hand on your shoulder.

You looked at him with slightly furrowed brows.

The woman handed the terminal under the window so that he could pay. And you saw how he pays easily.

You took the key from her as she handed it to you. And you went to the elevator.

As you left, he leaned back lightly against the counter.

"What are the amenities of the room?" he asked with a small smile.

Good thing the receptionist didn't see his demonic mind.

He wanted to see your face when you see that there is one bed and you will have to sleep there together.

You're friends, but when he's around, you run away from him and you're able to hit him when he has weird ideas.

It's such a friendship.

You know each other from work, you talk to each other. You go to lunch sometimes. You go on missions when you don't need only destructive power and you need to find something.

You have nothing against your presence. Especially him because he loves when he can be with you. Everything he did with you was his good memories.

However, he very much wants to see your reaction to what he wants to do. will you scream? Run away? Will you beat him?

Or will everything go according to his plan and you agree? If you want him to stop, you'll have to agree.

He liked you. Even very much. But he liked watching your nervous reactions just as much.

That's why he wanted to do it.

And also to make sure you can get closer somehow.

"Um... King Size bed, access to bathroom with shower, TV. Locker facilities with extra bedding, towels and bathrobes."

"All right. Thanks for the info." He said cheerfully before walking off to join you in the elevator.

"Why are you smiling like that?" you asked, looking at the magnetic key to the door. They don't even have regular keys in this hotel, just these.... It's really one of the more expensive hotels...

"Oh, nothing ~." He nodded with the same smile.

"You know something I don't. Tell me now! Why are you smiling like that again?!"

"You'll find out soon~." He hummed, lifting one piece of the blindfold to look at you with one eye.

His voice was still humming as he watched as your cheeks scowled at his answer.

Moments later, you reached your floor and, walking in front of him, began to look for the correct number on the door.

And when you found it, the key opened the door for you. So you opened the door waiting for him to follow you as well.

But when you turned on the lights, you saw that the room is quite large, however most of the space is occupied by a large bed placed in the middle of the room. Opposite the end of the bed there is a TV set, the entrance to the bathroom is on the side.

It was nice but there was one problem...

It was supposed to be a larger than a standard double room...

"Are those jokes?! One bed?!" You moaned quite loudly and his big hand suddenly appeared over your mouth, covering half of your face.

"People have rooms all around." He said still with the same smile as he hushed you.

"Those walls are probably soundproof." You said as you grabbed his wrist, pushing his hand away. "I'll go down to the front desk to ask if they have any mattresses."

"Will you sleep on the floor?" he asked.

His hand appeared on the door before you could open it.

"You will sleep on the floor." You smiled victoriously. "For me it is important to get enough sleep. But since you don't want to be a gentleman, I can sleep on a mattress."

His hands suddenly appeared on either side of your body as he stood in front of you.

He held the door with one hand while he closed the lock with the other.

"That's not cool, Gojo..." You muttered as you tried to grab the key in his hand, but he quickly shoved it into the pocket of his top uniform.

"We can sleep in the same bed. It's big enough that it shouldn't be a problem for you. Besides, compared to me, you won't take up much space. We'll be a perfect match, so we'll both fit in."

You blushed slightly at the idea that you were sleeping with him in the same bed, under the same covers...

What did he mean by fitting in?

Won't you take up a lot of space?

"You know... You're shorter than me. So it will be easy for us to adjust the sizes somehow ~." He smiled as he walked closer and put his hand on your head, showing that you are shorter.

Hardly anyone is taller than a six-foot guy like him!

Not many people reach his height!

"Come on, we can sleep in the same bed one night. true, (y/n)~?"

You sighed and put your hand under his chest, pushing him slightly away from you.

"Fine... Since it's only one night..."

"One night, but there may be more later~." He thought as he saw you walk away to see if there were towels in the sliding wardrobe.

He himself didn't even know why he had such a plan. But somehow he figured it out when he found out there was only one room, and that you were in a love hotel.

And since love hotels are most often used only for sex, no one will throw him out of here.

The main reason for his plan is to tease you.

And the secondary reason is the desire to see if you would be able to do something with him ... Or be closer to him than just work friends.

Because since he knows you, he doesn't consider you someone who couldn't be closer to him.

He's already rooted you in his life, so why can't he see if you could do one thing closer to him?

There aren't many people that close to him, but he would like you to be even closer.

What if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you? You're nice and funny. Sweet. By the way, he likes you. So this plan is justified.

Besides, he'd like to see you blush when you see something he's planning.

"I'm going to take a shower. We'll sort out how we sleep later." You said as you walked around the bed and into the bathroom, giving him that look he loved.

An innocent look when you don't know what he's planning. Your normal face. It's so exciting.

Even if he didn't have a plan, he did the same. Because he wouldn't have anything to do here without you.

He couldn't go to sleep because he had to wait for you to come.

He grabbed the TV remote and turned on the screen as he sat on the edge of the bed.

As it should be in a love hotel, you could turn on a porn site on the TV.

Just as he expected.

He kept scrolling through the strip, but he couldn't think.

He finally found a video he liked. "A smaller girl fucked by a tall guy with a big cock."

As soon as the video started, he was imagining your face instead of the one in the video.

And instead of the guy who started fucking her mercilessly, it was him. He imagined his own cock disappearing into your pussy like in a video.

He kept seeing your face instead of the woman's face. And then he focused on the view of big cock stretching her pussy.

He already noticed that he was bigger than this guy, but he didn't complain since it was needed for his plan.

And just knowing that he was imagining it was you instead of that girl made his pants feel tight.

Therefore, not to delay any longer, he unbuckled his belt and pants, pulling out his already hardened penis from his boxers, which lay down softly on his stomach as he took off the top of his uniform to stay in his black T-shirt.

He lifted the blindfold, taking it off. And let his white hair fall over his face before running his fingers through it.

Staring at the close-up of the girl's pussy stretching in the video, he spat into his hand, and grabbed his dick lying on his shirt, smearing the skin to make it slippery.

Then he started moving his hand up and down with the pace the guy was fucking the girl with.

Your face was still in his eyes instead of hers.

That made him even more excited. It may not have been perfectly good and appropriate behavior and thoughts, however, at that moment, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

To make you a little nervous, to see your embarrassment as you see it, and to see if you can reach higher heights in your relationship.

He was very focused on the video and imagining him inside your pussy. So he mindlessly rocked his hips to fuck his saliva-slick fist.

What he didn't know was that a few minutes later you finished showering and entered the room.

As you adjust your robe over your spare set of clothes that you took just in case, you looked at the scene unfolding in front of you.

Porn on the screen and Satoru, sitting in front of the suspended TV, is fucking his fist. And he doesn't seem to see you at all!

He's more focused on watching!

If only you knew he was imagining your face...

With a red face at the sight of his hard (big) cock in his hand, you grabbed the first thing hanging from your arm. It was a wet towel.

And you threw it in his face, screaming in embarrassment.

"Satoru!"

He let go of his cock and took the towel off his face, setting it aside.

He looked at you questioningly and turned to you sideways.

A throbbing hard cock sticking out of his pants.

"You pervert!" you screamed, covering your eyes.

He laughed, and clicked pause on the video, the sounds of which echoed around the room.

"what?" he murmured.

"Go to the bathroom! Get dressed! You're so perverted!"

"I'm in a love hotel. Here you can do anything perverted." You could hear in his voice that he was smiling.

"Stop it!"

"What should I stop doing? Talk or jerk off?"

"Stop touching yourself!"

"Huh~..."

"Just go to the bathroom!" You pointed to the door while keeping your eyes closed. "And stop masturbating on the bed I'm supposed to sleep on!"

"If you want me to stop, help me with my boner."

He spoke, leaving your eyes suddenly wide.

"H-Help?!"

He suddenly got up and walked over to you.

You took two steps away from him because his erection was there, facing you.

You also couldn't help but think that if he came now, your clean body would be dirty.

"You know... It'll go faster if you help me..."

"Y-You're..."

"I politely ask for help. If you agree, it will be faster and we will forget about it sooner. We'll be able to go to sleep~."

You looked into his eyes, and you didn't read a single bit of a lie there.

You don't know if he was really telling the truth or if his eyes were just so mesmerizing that you couldn't think of him making fun of you.

"Satoru... You..."

"Will you help me?" he asked, looking at you sadly.

"...Fine..." you muttered with a red face.

Now you know what that means for you...

You have to help him by touching his cock... Your friend's cock...

You saw his smile when you said that, and he suddenly pulled you over and told you to sit on the bed.

Once you were positioned exactly on the soft mattress, you looked straight ahead, and quickly pulled your head back.

His red tip was in front of your face.

"You promised you'd help me..." he moaned sadly.

He really could play to make you feel sorry for him...

That sad voice he simulates to make you pay attention to him.

"Sā~ Touch me~." Hearing his voice, bordering on a whisper, you felt your body tense. All because of his voice.

You tentatively placed your fingers on his damp shaft until you wrapped your entire hand around it. Massaging the slightly stringy skin.

You looked up to see his little smile as he looked down at your smaller hand touching his cock.

You're as much smaller than he thought.

His cock will feel so good inside your tight little pussy...

You will fit well in his hands until you moan under him.

Your pussy must be as tight as he thought. Because if he were to talk about how he loves that you're smaller than him, everything would be different. Even though he's sure your pussy as well as your mouth and ass will be so tight for him.

He'll be able to fit you up with him and fill you with cum.

Watching his lovely little friend lie beneath him, totally fucked, with his cum flowing out of you.

That's what you do in a love hotel. He thinks about sex. He fucks with impunity.

You got a little closer to him, opening your mouth to let part of his tip inside. With the same blush. Or even deeper red.

It was then that his demonic side was fully revealed.

He placed his hand on your head, urging you to take more of his.

You opened your mouth tighter so that the entire tip of it showed up on your tongue. And then he lightly pushed his hips, showing that he wanted deeper.

He wanted to feel more of your lips.

You pulled it out, licking the tip with your tongue before he rubbed his fingers over your head and spoke.

"Can you suck me? It was so nice a moment ago..."

Turning your head away for a moment, you opened your mouth to take his tip again, but he stopped you.

"Pull out the tip of your tongue and keep it loose." he said, trotting your mouth open wider.

You did as he told you.

You still can't believe you agreed to give your friend a blowjob so you could go to sleep in peace...

It's your first time with your friend! Hell, Satoru was always just a work friend!

And now you're sitting in front of his hard cock, and you're taking his orders. Commands to make it easier for you to suck him. Or make it easier for him to get pleasure.

He brushed his thumb across your tongue before the tip slid into your mouth.

Such a good girl. You listen to him so closely.

You put your hand on his length, and began to move your head, putting it in your mouth more and more.

Until your mouth was full. Your eyes filled with tears as the tip touched the beginning of your throat.

And you were already fighting the gag reflex as you slowly massaged the rest of its length.

Why was he so big?

"Come on, take it easy. Enough of this." He said, pulling his hips away from your face.

And then he took off his shirt and pants, throwing himself on your body.

"Satoru–."

"Helping doesn't end with a short blowjob, baby~."

He threw you onto the bed and you didn't even notice when he started shoving his hard cock into your soaking wet pussy.

You were so naked underneath it.

You felt so exposed...

As you sucked it you got wet and your panties were uncomfortable. That's why he took it off.

To give relief to your dick waiting hole.

"Such a good girl." he murmured in your ear as he fucked your pussy mercilessly.

Your help has been invaluable. He wanted your help so badly.

Because he wanted to carry out his plan.

And now it works.

He put his lips on yours, putting his tongue in your mouth, catching your moans.

"This building has really soundproof walls. So you can moan as loud as you want." he bit into your neck as his hips accelerated against yours. "Moan when big dick fucks your tight pussy~."

He bent your legs, pressing your knees to your chest.

And he spat on your clit, collecting saliva with the tip of his cock before thrusting inside you again, enjoying the sound of his balls hitting your soft buttocks.

Your back arched as he thrust deeper, pushing your insides apart even more.

Then he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth more.

His hips continued to bounce against yours. That's why your toes curled up as you looked at the shiny mess you'd made on his belly.

"So wet. So eager for cock... I didn't know my dear friend would enjoy being fucked by me so much~."

He grunted as he pushed himself off the bed to sit on his heels.

He pulled out of you, lowering your thighs to his.

He pressed himself against you, placing his length on your stomach.

You looked at what was inside of you. The greatness that hit your insides. A length that went deeper than anything else before. Thickness that stretches your poor walls.

But it's so good...

Your helping him is so good...

"I think where my dick reaches is deep enough that I can happily pour all the cum we have inside you, and watch you walk with my child later for sure."

His voice was dark but so sexy...

"Right?" he chuckled as he thrust himself into you again, hitting bottom instantly. "Would you like me to get you pregnant? Would you like to have my children?"

His pubic bone was pressed hard against your body with each thrust. So that he will pierce your cervix every time.

And this strange feeling combined with the pleasant one was unstoppable because he wanted to do it.

"Good girl... Veeryy gooood giirl..." he groaned as he felt that wonderful pressure against him. "I want to breed you... I want this so much..."

His thrusts sped up again as he began attacking your mouth.

You couldn't keep up with his thrusts. As you exhaled as he backed away, you were forced to moan and inhale as he moved back between your tight walls.

"Calm your breath. I don't want you to pass out." He laughed as he lifted your trembling legs with no strength.

You tried so hard to listen to him, but you couldn't because with every thrust from him, you couldn't help moaning as he pounded you from the inside out.

"You will look so cute being round and plump~ Do you want this? Want to get your friend's kids? Do you want my cum in you?" he said breathlessly.

You nodded slightly, feeling a little humiliated by his words. But it was so good...

"Tell me... Do you want my cum inside you? My cum inside your womb. You want to feel it, don't you?" he whispered in your ear as he leaned in. "You want that dick to fill your insides so deep, don't you?"

He pressed against your lower abdomen, and you felt his tip go straight to your lap, hitting the wall. Pressing even harder against your cervix.

"Do you want it? I can stop. You want me to stop before..."

"...No..." you groaned.

"No?"

"Don't stop..."

"Heh... How can I refuse to my sweet friend please?"

His hips attacked yours, pounding nonstop as he leaned over you, kissing your neck and your open mouth. Licking and kissing the tears on your cheeks.

With the brush of your clitoris by his pubic bone, the coil in your stomach snapped. Flooding its length with a new wave of your juices.

You saw how he frowned with a smile and clenched his jaw.

He plunged into you one last time, pressing his lips against yours as he let out a loud, guttural moan. And you felt more warmth inside you. How white floats inside you when he's finished.

He pulled out of you, leaving his cock on your stomach as he continued to kiss you. Drop the remaining cum from his orgasm on your skin.

"... Satoru..." you moaned softly.

He put a pillow under your head and gave you a glass of water from a pitcher on the table.

Your thighs quivering as cum oozed out of you.

He was really talking about breed you...

He laid down next to you, cuddling you against his chest as he kissed your forehead, cheek, and finally your lips.

"Thanks for your help, mochi~."

You cuddled up to him lightly.

"You don't even wear a condom..." you murmured, cheek against his bare chest.

"Aw, that's fine. I'll take all responsibility." He hugged you, wrapping his arms around your body. "We can live together now, right?"

"Live together?"

"We're friends for long time. Didn't you see that we're acting like a couple?"

You looked at him questioningly.

"I can't live without you. And if you're pregnant with my baby, we can't just still be friends."

"Satoru, you saying..."

"Be my girlfriend. That thing just now happened, show us that we can't be only job-friends. Especially if you're pregnant."

"You're really crazy with that thing you saying..."

"Don't you love me? Aren't we friends? I want you to live my side forever. If you don't love me, you will never agree to do that."

You cuddled up to him.

"I'm glad with that you're asking me to be your girlfriend..."

"And you agree?"

"...Yeah..."

He smiled and put his forehead on yours.

"Then, I love you, (y/n)."

Taglist: @weebotaku21; @yihona-san06; @mikkies; @raysheil; @dreeamiea; @safaia-47; @porridgesblog; @weebnk-popper; @mc-reborn

#jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader

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wannabetokiorockstar · 8 months

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Lockwood & Co AU were agents have to wear armor to avoid ghost touch.

Fittes agents would have to wear a full armor, I'm talking helmet and everything. (Lockwood thinks they look like tin cans.)

They would claim its for safety reasons,

(we all know the real reason is to look superior and intimidating, but really, they just look ridiculous)

in reality, full armor is rather inconvenient when you are out fighting ghosts and not knights.

(idk why, but I feel like they would call themselves "the knights of Fittes" lol)

(Other agencies wouldn't provide their agents with full armor, usually just the necessities. That was only a thing Fittes and Rotwell did.)

Lockwood & Co, on the other hand;

George: He HATES armors. He hates how they look, how long it takes to put them on, and how they feel. More than once, he has tried to go out to a case without it, but Lockwood, being the mother hen that he is, won't allow it under any circumstance.

Parts of his armor (arms and legs) would be from his old Fittes armor that he stole when they fired him. And the rest would be homemade a.k.a Lockwood's design. (Yes, he made his own patent armor, more on that later).

George personalized it, of course, to be more comfy. He made it a dark grey color, unlike Anthony's. And he added extra pockets for salt bombs and flares... and maybe biscuits.

(Extra: he refuses to wear "the stupid knight shoes" and just wears his normal snickers. and he doesn't wear a helmet because he needs his glasses. and also, i couldn't find any armors with orange/yellow details, but just imagine it, ok?).

Anthony: He hated the traditional design of the Fittes armor. It draws the attention of ghosts too easily, it constantly gets in the way when he's fencing, and can you imagine trying to run with that thing on? awful. So, he made his own design with his parents money with his grand intelect.

He made it way more flexible on the joints, added some leather pockets, removed the shoes (George's request), and replaced that god-awful tin can color with something more discrete, black.

(Extra: he also doesn't wear a helmet, out of solidarity. he would incorporate his coat to his attire somehow. And imagine it black also lol).

Lucy: She didn't know how important armor was until she moved to London. Back home, all her and her team were given was a chest plate. So, when she only wore that old chest plate on her first case with L&C, Lockwood almost had a freak out. He immediately made a date with his manufacturer.

She was embarrassed and insisted that it wasn't necessary, but Lockwood was having NONE of it. After all, his team (LUCY) is his number 1. priority.

She incorporated her old chest plate into her armor. It had too many memories attached to it just to throw it away. So she also went with the dark grey color to match.

(Extra: Of course, the details on her armor are blue <3, and she also doesn't wear her helmet because neither George nor Anthony wore them, so, she didn't found out that they were a thing until she met Kipps and his team. Honestly, it was 100% more practical without the helmet).

(I made this instead of studying for a very important test, send help)

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #save lockwood & co #save lockwood and co #knight au #lockwood #l&co #save l&co #l&co. netflix #fuck netflix #locknation #lockwood & co netflix #lockwood netflix

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azrisweek · 2 months

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Azris Week 2024 Prompts & Rules

We are delighted to announce the prompts for Azris Week 2024! Each prompt is accompanied by a few suggestions to help spark creativity. Don't feel obligated to follow the suggestions. We intentionally kept the prompts very open to interpretation this year and can't wait to see where the inspiration leads.

Day 1: Contrasts

The chilled darkness of the night, the warming glow of a fire's light. One spends his life pulling strings behind the curtain, and the other is center stage dancing to several tunes beyond his own. Born to privilege, born to poverty. One's family found, the other's fractured. "Contrasts" is a broad theme, how will you explore it?

Day 2: Familiars

Take it to mean the noun—hounds, shadows, horses, other pets, maybe sentient little flames, companions, friends, family, etc—or expand your interpretation to the adjective and see where it takes you.

Day 3: Contact

How do the heir of Autumn and the Shadowsinger communicate? Through letters or texts, maybe, or through heavy gazes and the brush of fingers on exposed skin. Have they always spoken with each other this way?

Day 4: Free Day

This is self-explanatory.

Day 5: Slice of Life

So much of this enemies-to-lovers ship is full of strife, pain, and betrayal. But what about the quiet moments? Whether in the midst of chaos or with lower stakes, how have they learned to love each other?

Day 6: Changes

What changes? What remains the same? Change for the individual, change for the pair. Think of shifting opinions, a changing world, personal growth, and developing relationships. One of the reasons we ship Azris is our love for their dynamic. How dynamic can they be?

Day 7: Solstice & Equinox

Autumn Equinox, the shift in seasons from light to darkness, a time of harvest and plenty. Winter Solstice, the longest night, the turning point. One can predict that the Autumn Equinox in the Autumn Court is as grand of a celebration as the Winter Solstice in Night. We're closing out the week with a hearty dose of holiday spirit.

1) Be respectful. We're here to celebrate Azris and appreciate the creations made in their honor. This is a positive, inclusive space which won't stand for bashing of any kind.

2) Please direct any event-related questions to this account, not to the mods individually.

3) Tag us and use #azrisweek2024 when posting here or on Instagram so that we can reblog/repost. If you are posting a work to AO3 add it to the event collection here.

4) Creations of all kinds are welcome and encouraged! Fics, fanart, mood boards, headcanons, incorrect quotes, edits, playlists, etc. We will not be promoting AI generated/altered images or fanworks.

5) A caveat to the previous rule. This event won't tolerate characters being warped to fit heteronormative roles and/or relationship stereotypes. For example (thanks to @cauldronblssd for putting it so clearly,) fem Eris or Azriel as queer identities or gender non-conforming characters, yes—fem Eris or Azriel as a substitute for a straight woman, no. With this in mind, we reserve the right to use our discretion and not engage with content, regardless of how it is tagged, if said content perpetuates harmful stereotypes.

#azrisweek2024 #azris #azris supremacy #azriel shadowsinger #eris vanserra #pro azriel #pro eris vanserra #acotar fandom

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carolmunson · 1 year

Text

love language six

love language set list another sunday another sun-slay -- ft. dad!eddie and flashback child!eddie love language blurbies are back in action -- again, these are just vingettes into a relationship with eddie no chronological timeline, no story -- just mini moments. this is longer than my other love language blurbs. reader discretion is advised: eighteen plus content. this blurb explores the concept of eddie being a child of abuse that sides with the abuser for his own safety and struggles with that as an adult. some content in this work may be uncomfortable to read, and if dv or abuse is triggering for you, i would not recommend reading it -- this work features rough language, references to abuse, abusive language, descriptions of abuse, and attempted domestic violence. the ending is not sad, i promise.

1971, Forest Hills Trailer Park sherri munson squats down in a shift dress with flowers that match the ones growing in the patch outside of the kiddie park. her sandals crease. the skin by her eyes has too. up all the time, just waiting. waiting for her boy to cry. waiting for her husband to come home. waiting for the cops to show up. she was gonna be a dancer one day. now she stays up and waits. now she just fights with her son about when it’s time to leave the park.

'well i don't have to listen to you anyway!' he whines, ripping his hand away from her with all his five year old body could muster. 'yes you do, eddie honey, i'm your mom,' she tries to laugh it off, but it comes out half-hearted. the other mothers at the park look at her, their eyes burn as hard as her husband hits.

'no you're not!' he yells, stomping while she takes his hand again. 'eddie, yes i am, i'm your mother, let's go,' she urges. he rips his hand away again and raises it the way her husband does when he's warning her.

'you're -- you're what daddy says you are, mommy,' he yells, tearing up in anger, not sure where to put it. she tries to reach for him but he brings his hand down to strike, only cutting through the air.

'baby, we just have to go home from the park, we can come back tomorrow,' she pleads.

'daddy's right, what he said to you this mornin’ -- you’re – you're a fuckin' idiot.' he sounds like like him, just smaller. she knows he doesn't know what he's saying, what that means. but it hurts the same way it hurt at breakfast when she spilled some coffee on the counter. maybe worse. she can't find it in herself to yell at him.

'that was a very mean thing to say to mommy, ed,' she mutters, the balloon in her chest swelling and swelling, 'say you're sorry.'

'why should i? daddy never has to say sorry,' he shouts while she catches him by the hand again. the other mom's sizzling stares soften, perfectly plucked brows raising. she can almost hear their necks turn to give each other knowing glances.

'that's just how your daddy is, ed,' she sighs, watching him pout at her with big glassy brown eyes, 'let's go home, baby. i'll make you some chocolate milk with your lunch.'

that perks him up and he smiles, hand clasping in hers while the others watch them leave like a bad car wreck. she tries not to hear them whisper, she tries not to hear their words travel through the wind and blow through her hair, through her chest. it's not anything she hasn't heard before.

she’s doing dishes when ed's daddy and wayne come home from lake doing some fishing. wayne moved in next door after the first time alan put her in the hospital. eddie was too young to remember that part, old enough to remember that mrs. marsden let him have so many popsicles when he stayed with her that his tongue was blue for two days.

she focuses on the rush of the water and the ‘scratch, scratch, scratch’ of the sponge on a pan that never feels clean. she swallows while her husband's keys jingle in the door. her eyes watch the suds slide off the pan in a cloud, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing -- maybe if she just stares down at the sink she’ll go right down the drain. then she won’t have to –

"hi honey," she says down to the counter next to the sink. eddie sits at the kitchenette table, nursing his glass of chocolate milk.“hi daddy,” he says quietly, big brown eyes follow his father’s every move – half scared, half enamored. big man. big angry man. never hits him, just hits mommy. so he must be good if that’s what happens. he must be so good.

"hm," he grunts, door slamming behind him. it doesn’t take long when he’s in one of his moods. he stalks down past the living room and into the bedroom to change out of his sticky clothes – summer heat making him slide like a snake back out to the kitchen. “house is a fuckin’ mess sherri,” he says. big man. big angry man. boa constrictor tight on her throat while she swallows. why can’t the drain just swallow her the same way?

scratch, scratch, scratch. scrub, scrub, scrub.

“you hear me sher? i said the house is a fuckin’ mess,” he bellows from the side of her. eddie covers his ears. big man, big angry man. big voice stained with fifteen years of cigarette smoke.

“yeah, i heard you al,” she says to the suds as they float down the drain. her heart aches. balloon in her chest pops.

“oh, you’re bein’ smart with me?” he asks, big angry hand reaching out to clutch her by the back of the neck. pulled out of the drain and into the wall, “you bein’ smart?”

she braces as her side hits the wall, she can smell the beer on him like white on rice. she wants to scream at wayne for letting him come into the trailer this drunk. “m’not being smart with you al,” she grits out. “yeah you ain’t smart, are you?” he taunts, hovering over her. big shoulders, big arms, big everything – big man. big strong man, “you know what you are?” she shakes her head no, eyes shutting tight – she can just float down the drain. “y’already forgot huh? damn sherri – you fuckin’ stupid? i told ya this morning,” he barks a laugh that sends heat down the back of her throat, her nose warms, the threat of tears warns her the way he does – always just on the line. “you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he bites, “you lazy fuckin’ bitch.” “you gotta stop sayin’ that shit in front of ed, alan,” she says quietly, hair sticking to her face and neck. sweat and sticky. can’t keep fighting anymore kind of hot.

“oh how come?” he asks with fake concern, “he believin’ it? he cert’n’ly should.” he turns to eddie, with a flash in his eyes, “you think your mama’s a fuckin’ idiot, boy?” big strong man. big angry man. big boa constrictor with big snakey eyes. kaa’s hypnosis. “i asked you a question,” he seethes, his body close to turning completely. eddie sees the gold ring glint on his fist. “yessir,” he nods quickly, “y-yeah…that’s what mommy is.” “look how scared you got him, al!” she yells from the drain in her chest, “look how scared he is! look what you’re doin’ to him!” but he didn’t ask her to speak. eddie covers his ears again but it doesn’t block out the first three cracks of his daddy’s palm across her face. doesn’t block out the crunch of his knuckles on her cheek. he shuts his eyes like is mama always tells him, runs to the cupboard under the sink to hide. crack, crack, crunch. wail, crack, crunch, cry. cry, cry, yell, crack, yell, crack, crunch, cry, yell. eddie watches through the space in the doors like a movie he’s too young to watch. rated r. rated never. warm yellowed wallpaper and orangey wood staring back at him, his daddy’s fishing boots stomping into frame. a small smatter of blood on the scuffed linoleum tile. rated r, rated never. yell, yell, yell, choke, spit, cough, cough, yell. yell, yell, cry, yelp, cough, whimper, yell, cough. wayne’s voice cuts in the pattern. “i told ya alan, i’d shoot ya the next time i had to come in here.” whoop, whoop. the flashing lights eddie sees every few weeks glitter on the back wall of the kitchen where he can see through the space. glittering while the sun shines. he likes that. “nah, nah, you ain’t gonna run from ‘em this time al,” wayne says. eddie can’t see the scuffle. “she ain’t even fuckin’ concious.” she was gonna be a dancer one day. eddie stays in the cupboard. just for a little, even after his daddy takes a night in the clink. even after wayne says it’s okay to come out. even while his chocolate milk stands on the table untouched. he stays for a minute, while the world around him rumbles.

1997, Forest Hills Trailer Park

and the world sure does rumble sometimes. hazy afternoon had been smooth sailing for the most part -- pick bud up from summer rec camp, grocery run. chasing bud through the aisles while his laugh plays marco polo with yours. it's good to buy your five year old some chocolate when he behaves. it's good to watch him run around again when you get back home, hustling in the backyard in your new trailer with two bedrooms. letting him run through some sprinkler toy you saw at dollar tree a couple weeks ago before the weather got hot. covered in mud, soon enough, covered in clouds. you’re thankful he’s inside before the rain starts. down pour – the sky heavy with thick air and angry beatings to your tin roof. you slip off his shoes before he tracks mud in the house, you rinse off his hands before you get him changed into something more cozy that’ll make bedtime go a little easier. you start dinner after fixing him a snack and he muses about four square and kickball – you silently laugh when he tells you he got picked first for the teams. money’s tighter now. tighter than it was a couple years ago. a little too tight when you switched to part time to pick up bud from kindergarten and camp since wayne’s working day shifts now. wayne’s too old to be watching bud now anyway, bud’s all over the place. the tighter the money, the bigger the fights. but you both knew how to fight. masters of the ring, big booming cracks of lighting for tongues. always in bed dressed in pajamas and apologies. maybe less so now. maybe less apologies, less pajamas. speaking in bodies and sweat – soft rumbling i’m sorry, lemme show you. you don’t think either of you mean it like you used to. he can afford a nicer trailer for his son, but sometimes he doesn't know if he can afford to show him how to treat a woman. you swear it's progress, but he only hears the whir of the tape being rewound over and over again. every clipped word, every raise of his voice, every tense roll of his shoulders. boy turned big man. big big man.

you start the oven, slicing and dicing while he comes in the door – coveralls all covered in rain and motor oil. big boots on the linoleum, faint smell of beer on his breath. just one with the guys after the shop closed – that’s what he says anyway.

“hi honey,” you say, chop-chop-chopping at the green onion on the cutting board, “rain’s rough out there?”

“hm,” he replies, kicking his boots off next to bud’s sneakers. he sighs out of his nose, “s’mud all over the place here.”

“i know, i’m sorry, i forgot about it – i’ll get to it after dinner,” you say, hearing him make big steps over to his son, running a hand over his hair. just wanna avoid another back and forth – let him sleep off all that frustration – ease out the elastic in his shoulders that’s waiting to snap.

“you know,” he grumbles lowly, coming over to look at the mail on the counter next to you, “you’ve been gettin’ real forgetful lately.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask with a smile that can’t believe he’d say that. you put the knife down.

“why’d i get a call from the city today saying the water bill’s past due?” he asks, a darkness creeping into his voice that’s been turning his tongue to sludge, to whipping winds, cruel and unforgiving, “you tryna make me look bad? want people to think i can't pay the fuckin' bills?”

“i – shit i forgot to drop it off yesterday, i’m sorry hun,” you soothe, “i’ll bring it tomorrow, i wasn’t trying to make you look bad.”

“you can’t just forget this shit,” he says, voice rising, “we got –”

“mommy, can i have some more juice?” bud’s little voice leaks into the conversation like a dove floating by.

“yes, baby,” you say, getting the juice out of the fridge to refill his cup at the table.

“we got a kid at home,” ed repeats, "can't just have the water shuttin' off. what's wrong with you? take some responsibility."

“i understand that ed,” you reply, defensive edge sliding up in your voice like a razor, “i’m the one whose with him all day.”

he scoffs, grumbling, “yeah, you pick him up from camp – mother of the fuckin’ year. can’t even pay the bills on time with all my fuckin’ money.”

“watch your mouth,” your voice stern while you close up the juice. thunder rumbles overhead, the rain coming down in droves. two cracks of lightning who can’t let up.

“you don’t tell me what to do,” he glowers, “you don’t ever tell me what to do. i’m the man of this house, you hear me?”

“man of the house? you hear how you sound?” you ask, leaning forward on the table, “why don’t you go back to the garage and figure this attitude out, ed?”

“don’t run your mouth to me,” he growls, “don’t get fuckin’ smart with me.”

“watch. your. mouth.” you warn again. bud flinches when the thunder rumbles, he hates storms like this. drinks his juice anyway. “oh, so you are gettin’ smart with me?” eddie grimaces, bearing his teeth, nostrils flaring. he vibrates with the thunder outside. "well let me tell you something then, huh?!" he grits out, rounding the table with an outstretched hand to grab you, wrapping like a vine on your wrist. like a snake. you flinch when you see how fast he moves, when he reaches for you -- cracking like lightening, like a whip, cracking like your marriage this year. "wait, wait, i'm sorry!" your voice sounds breathy, worn down -- terrified. it doesn't sound like you at all. “god, you’re such a fuckin’ id–” your son drops his fork on the ground, clattering eddie back to clarity. your son's eyes match your husband's, they meet each other. your son just stares -- frozen on the spot. you stare too. you look at his hand around your wrist, the flex in his forearm, veins lifted and pulsing. big man. big strong man. big strong angry man. just like his daddy. the wind howls outside, huffs of breath out of your noses fill the room quietly.

"daddy?"

eddie straightens, looking at his hand tight on your wrist before letting it drop to his side. he swallows. looking at the both of you like he was mid crime scene. eddie blinks. looks at his son at the kitchen chair and then the cupboard under the kitchen sink. "i..." he starts, choking on the words, "i'm gonna go for a drive."

he stands for a second while you nod at him, eyes brimming with tears you aren’t sure will fall. rooted to your spot, you hold your breath when he leans in, hands reaching out much more gentle than before. he fills the space between you, still smelling like motor oil, rain, and musk. both of his calloused hands on your cheeks now – he kisses you.

"m’sorry,” he says, loud enough for your son to hear. he lets go only to turn around and take his son’s face in his hands and give him a kiss too.

“sorry, buddy,” he says softly, “daddy’ll be back before bedtime, okay?”

in five years, eddie has never missed one night of reading him a bedtime story. “okay,” your son smiles, earning himself another kiss on the top of his head and a ruffle of his hair before eddie grab his keys. the jingle of them rings in your chest while you watch him leave. your eyes linger on the storm door even while you listen to the car start, even while you hear it drive away. the rain doesn’t let up. you put dinner in a tupperware for him later. — you’re in the bathroom after a shower when he comes home, the door partially open in case bud needs you – cozied up in bed playing with dinosaurs in his room. you listen while eddie makes his way in to see him, padding down the hall in wet feet to not get caught. “hi buddy,” he says with a voice that had done nothing but cry, “how was dinner?” “was yummy,” your son says. you know bud’s looking up at him with glowing admiration. his daddy. he was his daddy’s boy. the bed creaks when eddie sits down. “i’m glad, kiddo,” he says, “i wanted to say sorry for how mean i was earlier. i was being really mean and that wasn’t nice.” “you were really mean to mommy,” buddy mumbles, “you made her cry.” you hear ed’s voice crack, “i know bud, i know i made mommy cry, and that’s not okay.” “and i’m not gonna yell at mommy anymore, and i’m sorry.” “mommy’s the best,” bud says, “but it’s okay to be angry sometimes, that’s what they say at camp. just count to three!” “daddy’s angry is a little different, bud,” he tries to explain, a little laugh coming through, “but i’ll try it next time, i’ll count to three.” “and take deep breaths,” bud explains. “and i’ll take deep breaths,” eddie says through sniffles, you can hear the soft smile in his voice. “and bud, i think we should make a big promise to each other, would that be okay?” he asks your son. big shiny baby brown eyes. eyes that get kissed by the moon. “mhm.” “let’s promise that we won’t ever yell at mommy, or call her any names, because that’s not nice,” eddie says softly, “that was really mean of daddy and mommy doesn’t deserve that. and i don’t want you to think that’s okay.” “okay, i promise,” bud’s voice leaks like a dove through the door. you hear a kiss pressed to his forehead while eddie stands up to grab the beat up copy of the hobbit next to bud’s bed. you’re in your pajamas in the bedroom by the time ed’s done putting your son to bed. he somes in quietly, looking you over post shower – beautiful bride, beautiful wife, so pretty like this. so pretty for him – big man. big strong man. big sorry man. “i owe you an apology,” he says softly. “yeah,” you say, cold cream soothing your hot skin like ice while you slather it on. eyes avoid him.

“m’so sorry, baby,” his face cracks like all the plates his daddy shattered, that you’ve shattered too, “that’s…that’s not me – i’d never – i never thought i’d–” "i know you wouldn't," you say quietly, knowingly. your eyes travel – how many slats are in the wood paneling of this room? "cause if you did --" you finally find it in you to look at him. "if you did, if you ever raised a hand to me or bud –” “i would never,” he urges, “i’d never–” “if you did,” you repeat, eye piercing him, “i would get in that car with your son and you would never see us again, do you understand me?” he nods, face blanching, tinged green at the thought. he could’ve lost you both. he could still lose you both. “bless her soul ed, but i’m not your momma,” you remind him, “m’not gonna stick around for a man who thinks i’m a punching bag.” he nods again, quiet, tongue thick when he talks. “i’m so sorry, baby i’ll – i’m gonna do better,” he sounds like he means it, “i’ve just..things are so hard right now. i’m trying.” “try a little harder,” you say softly. “i will,” he says, wiping his eyes while they brim with tears as wet at outside. “i love you,” you start, “but i think you should go stay at wayne’s tonight.” his lower lip quivers, “o-okay. i – um – i love you, t-too.” he packs some clothes for the night and tomorrow even though wayne’s just three trailers down. his heart sinks when he realizes he’ll have to explain. just like his daddy. big strong man. snake eyes. snake eyes gone soft. big sorry man. big sorry eyes. kissed by the moon. kissed by you. “i’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay?” you say gently after his full warm lips break from yours, “just think you need some time alone tonight.” he nods against you, eyes closed. lips brush again. he leaves and you listen to the storm door close with a rattle. the world rumbles. so does he. but he’s gonna be better.

#love language em #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader

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beyondspaceandstars · 1 year

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Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)

Safe With You

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader

Warnings: fluff and angst, as ordered

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Thank you so so much for requesting!! I haven’t written for the Mandalorian in so long, it feels so great to do again. And the new season was wonderful, I loved the ending so much, so thank you for requesting this fluffy, angsty thing! (P.S. I am very aware of the fact that we just learned the mandalorian’s first name is not actually his first name however, I am a woman who is set in her ways and this was written before finding that fact out. He’s "Din" throughout this, I’m sorry.)

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You’re sure you’re going to be okay?" He asked you for what felt like the millionth time. You had to force yourself to stop rolling your eyes as you finished packing your supplies.

When you came back to the make-shift base you two had set up and told Din you picked up an easy job while in town, you had expected him to maybe ask a couple of questions, just so he knew where you’d be. What you hadn’t expected was for him to practically pester you. Not to mention, he’d already offered to come with about a dozen times now.

"Honey, I was working alone way before I ever met you," you replied, "I think I’m going to be able to handle myself."

He sighed. "I know, but this planet… Can you at least tell me what the job is?"

You shook your head. "I was paid extra for my discretion and the last thing we need is to lose a couple of credits, right? Besides, there’s worse in the galaxy, I’m sure of it. It’ll be fine, I’ll be back before you know it."

Din peaked up at the dimming sky. It would be getting dark soon.

"This still doesn’t feel right to me. Can you be back before nightfall?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Maybe." You felt his hard stare from behind his helmet. You sighed. "I’ll try."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

****

When you two make promises, you kept them. There were no if ands or buts about it. You both had demanding, dangerous lives, and promises were a foundation you thrived on. It kept you whole, loyal.

So, when night fell on the planet and the only thing he could make out was the fluttering nocturnal bugs, Din grew worried beyond belief. The night was ticking on and he was still alone. You had promised. He shouldn’t have this worry in him right now. He should be holding you tight, hearing you give a recap of the job while you two lay snuggled up, slowly drifting off to sleep.

He should be listening to your dream about what you’d want to use the credits for. Realistically, you always put it toward food and medical aid, but he knew you liked to save just some to the side for when you two found little markets throughout your journeys. You liked buying textiles for crafts in your downtime, jewelry from the local women…

Din was losing his mind. His head spun with thoughts and worries about you. Unable to do much else, he grabbed some supplies and made his way back into town, hoping on the off chance he’d be able to find whoever offered you the job. He decided he’d do whatever was necessary to get them to tell him where you were. He didn’t care what it would take or who he’d have to hurt.

This was you. His other half. His adorable, fearless, bright, charming, funny, caring significant other. And now you were gone…

Well, everyone was gone. In the pitch black of the night, just the faint hint of stars now guiding his path, Din found the town to be completely closed up for the night. It was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the afternoon. It was like everyone just up and left but he knew better than that.

Most of the dusty buildings were used as shops, he remembered, but the flickering glow from some windows on the taller buildings points him toward some of the residents.

Din didn’t hesitate to knock on some doors. It would’ve been more powerful had it ended up working. He pounded on them. Kicked. Yelled. But all of his fits fell on deaf ears. He had half the mind to start breaking in through windows and backdoors but he had to reel himself back. It would do neither of you any good if he was restrained.

When it was growing more and more evident no one in the town would cater to him, Din forced himself to give up. He had to put some faith in you, he knew that. You were incredibly skilled—almost as much as him—and if you weren’t worried about something, he should be trusting of that.

And yet, he couldn’t help himself. Worry and defeat overcame him as he made his way back to where you two were staying. Din decided he’d make himself comfortable and then just wait for you to come back. Surely, that wouldn’t be so bad. He could keep himself awake. You’d probably be back any minute, he tried telling himself. It’d be fine. It’d be easy, right?

Nope. Wrong. So very wrong. Din only realized how foolish he had been when he felt a hint of warmth on his body and light trying to break through the visor of his helmet. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, forcing himself awake.

It was morning. The next day. It was the morning of the next day…and he was alone. The realization hit Din like a ton of bricks. He shot up from his slouched position, and a new kind of worry came over him. Not only had he fallen asleep, but he had also done so without you, and it still didn’t appear like you were here. Worry shifted into guilty. He thought was going to be sick—

"Over here, darling." Your voice rang out in a scratchy tone from behind Din. He whipped his head around and your slumped, exhausted form came into focus. You were sitting in just your undergarments next to the nearby, splashing water over what appeared to be fresh wounds. A stack of wraps and aid supplies sat next to you. Most of your clothes were tossed to the side and turning brown from dried blood. Din felt every part of him seize up.

"Cyra’ika, what…" Din’s throat felt like it was on fire as he slowly stepped toward you. He knew he should’ve rushed to your side, gave you all the attention and care you absolutely needed, but he had never seen you in this state before. "What happened?"

You shrugged. "Mission was a little bit rougher than anticipate but don’t worry, I finished it and we were paid."

You had the nerve to flash a smirk at him. Din thought he was about to lose it all over again, maybe even worse, as he had the previous night.

"I’m not worried about the funds," he snapped. His sudden and typically unusual harsh tone made you flinch but he didn’t seem to care. "You’re… You’re bleeding. You’re pale. Oh my… You need— We need—,"

"To calm down," you snapped back. "We need to calm down. Honey, I’m okay, really. It was just a bit more difficult than the employer had made it out to be. That was probably my fault, I guess I didn’t ask the right questions, but it’s alright. Brought them in warm and everything. It just took slightly longer than anticipated."

Din groaned. "You said you’d be back by nightfall."

"Well, that didn’t happen."

"I’m very aware that that didn’t happen."

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back onto your injuries. You patted one of the wounds dry and began trying to wrap it gently but firmly. Every movement made you flinch. "

"I don’t understand what the big fuss is about," you muttered. "I still returned and the mission was complete. What’s the big deal?"

"The big deal is I thought you were dead," Din replied harshly.

"Well, I’m not!" You yelled back, your own fuse nearly at its end. But losing your temper wasn’t the smartest idea you realized as a sharp pain tore through your side. You let out a frightened yelp. You had expected bruises but the one that covered more torso was a ridiculous one.

"Cyra’ika…" Din sighed as he rushed to kneel at your side. He inspected the bruised skin you were gripping. "You need to rest. Let me bandage the rest."

"No, I’m fine," you gritted. Your anger still simmered within you despite Din’s gentle words.

"No, you’re not," he replied. "And… And I’m sorry for being upset with you instead of helping." He pulled at the wrap you were holding in your hands. You forced yourself to give in. You leaned into his touch as he finished drying your wounds and began bandaging them.

"I tried coming back by nightfall," you murmured. "I really did but it was harder than I intended."

"I don’t doubt that for a second," Din said. "You promised and we try to keep our promises but I was… I was so scared." His helmet-distorted voice cracked slightly and that was more painful than any wound some bounty could ever inflict upon you.

"I was scared, too," you admitted, "but I didn’t want to make a big deal of it because I’m finally back here, safe, with you. That’s all that matters." Slowly, you raised a bruised hand to his helmet. You wanted nothing more than to cup his face and promise him you were okay but you knew this was as close as you were going to get.

"You’re right," he agreed, "and that’s what I’m trying to remind myself as I wrap your injuries."

You shook your head. "They’re not that bad, really. I’m sure you’ve had worse."

"This isn’t about me."

"Okay," you sighed. "But the next time you come back all bruised and beaten, I get to reprimand you."

Din hummed. "Maybe we should just start taking jobs together."

"Yeah?" You chuckled. "Wanna be my partner in crime?"

"I think I just want to be wherever you are."

"Good because I want you there with me," you said with a wide smile creeping up on your face. You knew if you saw Din’s face he would be blushing. "Hey, do you think one day we’ll be able to leave all this behind and just live a…normal life together?"

Din’s focus stayed on the bandages. "Is that what you would want?"

"Of course," you replied with no hesitation.

"Then, yes." Din nodded. "I’ll make sure of it."

A good kind of warmth spread throughout your face and down your body. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Din responded. "Always."

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