and his little hands and feet get chill without all this fabric

Bucky’s Idea

Hey guys! Here’s another oneshot for you. I wrote this when I was really mad one day and it actually made me feel a whole lot better! Lesson learned, when upset write some Bucky fluff. I hope you guys enjoy, I really like this one. Happy Saturday!

Warnings: angry reader that turns into crazy fluff

Note: The reader has powers similar to Wanda’s, kind of a telekenesis that you’re still learning to use. 

Originally posted by rohgers

Originally posted by sebastianobrien

Steve, Bucky and Sam were in the corner of the gym, filling their water bottles, their foreheads dripping with sweat and their tinted cheeks warm from their workout. Their chests were still rising and falling more rapidly than usual as they joked with each other and set up plans for later that night.

The endorphins running through their systems had them on cloud nine. You, however, felt the opposite.

You hadn’t even bothered to change your clothes before blasting into the gym and hoofing it over to the punching bags that were hanging from the ceiling, waiting for you to take everything out on them.

But Steve got in your way.

“Hey, (Y/N), what-”

“I’ll fix it Steve!” you snapped, making him back off. 

He crawled back over to the corner and took his water bottle from Bucky who had been holding it for him. You didn’t miss Bucky’s wide, slightly fearful eyes.

You pulled your sweatshirt over your head and threw it on the floor, your agitated powers making slide further away than you planned. Left in your leggings and thin tank top, you started throwing punches into the bag in front of you, making it sway back and forth. Even it was afraid of you today.

She did that? Tony’s pissed about that.” Sam whispered. 

“Her powers are linked to her emotions. She’s… having a rough day.” Steve tried to defend you.

“Seems like more than just a rough day. Did you see what she did to that-” Steve stuck out his hand to quiet him, but you had heard Sam’s mumbling.

“You’re next if you don’t shut up, Sam.”

Sam didn’t dare stick around to see if you’d keep your word. But Steve couldn’t leave you like this.

“Hey, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, try to calm down.”

“This is calming me down,” you sneered with a hard punch.

Bucky’s eyes were snapping from you to Steve like he was watching a ping pong match. 

“Come on, (Y/N),” Steve continued.

“I’m fine, leave me alone.”

“At least wrap your hands.”

“I don’t need it, Steve.”

“Yes you do, here.”

I don’t need it!” You wailed and sent the punch bag across the room, ripping it off its hook with your powers.

Steve stared at the bag in complete astonishment. He’d never seen you use your powers for anything destructive, and he had definitely never seen you yell at anyone. Exasperated, he finally gave up. He stalked out of the room with his hands surrendered in the air with a sharp “Fine.”

You moved to another bag a few feet away and started hitting into it, ignoring the sting on your knuckles from the harsh fabric. You were so engrossed in your abuse, you didn’t notice Bucky quietly standing next to you. After a particularly hard hit, you returned your wrists to your home position in front of your face. You jumped in surprise when he grabbed your right forearm and started folding the black, cotton wrap around your hands. 

“By the time you’re done, your knuckles will be raw,” he mumbled.

Within seconds, he was done and walking out of the gym. A pang of guilt ravaged your gut, you had never snapped at the guys before. You decided to ignore your sinking stomach and continue taking your anger out on the bag, you would apologize later. 

You carried on until you could hardly lift your arms, thankful for the wrap around your knuckles. You couldn’t imagine what your hands would look like if Bucky hadn’t helped you. 

The thought made you smile. You and Bucky weren’t very close, but you still work together, counted on each other out in the field. Though you would never say it out loud, you knew he could read you like a book. The one thing you and him had in common was your stubborn attitude, and he knew how to handle you like no one else on the team did.

Your rambling brain stopped as soon as you jumped in the shower. The hot water soothed your muscles and ran down your skin, leaving streaks in its path. You concentrated on the steam rising in the shower stall and fogging up the glass instead of replaying your awful day in your mind, which you had a habit of doing. 

You stood under the water until it ran cold, and only then did you shut it off and change into your favorite pair of pajamas. They were soft and cozy, the shirt was light and the pants long enough to cover your toes.

As you were running a comb through your tangled, damp hair, your stomach rumbled, begging for some kind of dinner. You sighed, knowing that the guys would be downstairs and this was your chance to apologize for being so rude and downright mean to them in the gym.

The elevator led you to the kitchen and before the doors even opened you smelled the scent of delicious pizza. Your mouth began to water and your tummy growled in anticipation.

You walked into the room and received a loud greeting from the guys who were sprawled out on the couches in front of the television. 

“Hey! There she is!”

“We have pizza!”

“And movies. All the ones you like.”

Sam’s body was taking up the entire couch, his feet hanging off the arm rest and his arms held high in the air. Bucky was sitting in the lounge chair next to him, grinning brightly at you, and Steve got up from the chair across the way and started walking over to you.

“What? What is this?” you couldn’t hide your excitement or your astonishment.

“We’re having a movie night. Only if you want to though.” Steve slung his arm around you and walked you over to the kitchen counter holding boxes of your favorite pizza. 

“We wanted to apologize for being up your butt today at the gym. We just hate seeing our little ray of sunshine upset.” He mussed your damp hair and you scoffed at his teasing. 

Steve, not knowing his own strength, pulled you into a one arm hug that resulted in your head being pushed into his arm pit. As you pushed him away, you felt the sting in your arms from your workout earlier. When your giggles ceased, you became much more serious.

“I’m the one who needs to apologize. I was downright mean today and-”

“(Y/N), shut up and eat your pizza!” Sam yelled from the couch, interrupting you.

Steve handed you a plate from the cupboard. You took it with a smile and sighed. “Okay, okay.” 

You caught Steve before he made to return to his spot in front of the television. “Steve, uh, thanks,” you said quietly. A movie night was just what you needed. 

“Oh, it wasn’t me. This was Bucky’s idea,” he said to you and then turned away and plopped down on the couch, leaving you with a gaping jaw. You caught your pizza slice before it fell on the floor and took a bite, your eyes still wide in surprise.

While Sam was starting up your favorite movie you inhaled your first piece of pizza and hurried to grab another and make it to the couch before the credits started. The familiar music made your heart swell, as did being surrounded by your friends. They were pretty special, you decided.

As the movie went on and the warmth from the pizza fizzed away, you began to feel the chill that was almost always in the tower. You regretted only wearing a thin t-shirt when you felt how cold your skin was. 

Luckily, hanging on the arm rest next to you was a familiar looking dark green hoodie. “Hey, Steve, do you mind if I throw this on?” you whispered, earning a scowl from Sam who always hated when someone interrupted his Disney movies.

“Not mine,” he mouthed. Then he pointed to Bucky, telling you it was his.

Your head snapped to the right to find Bucky already looking at you. You weren’t sure how he would feel about you borrowing his clothes, so you stood up and whispered, “I’ll just go get one of mine, be right ba-”

“No, no, just wear mine. It’s okay.” Bucky stuck his hand out to stop you from going anywhere. He grinned and nodded again to tell you he was sure.

You smiled in thanks and plopped down on the couch again, slipping your arms into the over sized sleeves and plunging your head through the hood. You wanted to stay inside, it smelled so good. It didn’t smell like cologne or anything you were familiar with. It just smelled like Bucky, not that you noticed he had a distinct smell before you buried yourself in his sweatshirt. But now that you did, you never wanted to smell anything else. You could even go without the smell of delicious pizza if you could always have the scent of old timey soap and after shave ghosting through your senses. 

However, you tried to be a normal human and when you emerged from the hoodie, you pulled your hair out of the neck and snuggled into the extra fabric that was wrapped around you. You hoped Bucky didn’t noticed how you pulled the sleeves over your hands and brought them up to your face so every inhale was laced with his scent. 

Two movies later, the gang admitted their sleepiness. Sam turned off the TV and you offered to put the pizza away and clean up the kitchen. It was the least you could do, this whole shindig was for you, after all. 

You started putting leftover pizza into plastic baggies as you said goodnight to the guys. Sam ruffled your hair and Steve smoothed your locks back down and kissed your forehead before they both headed upstairs.

You piled the empty boxes on the counter and turned to shut the light off before you finished wiping off the counter. When you turned back, the boxes were gone and Bucky was standing there, sponge in hand. His dark figure made you jump out of your skin and squeal softly. 

“Jeez, Buck, you startled me. I didn’t know you were still down here,” you said with a hand covering your thundering chest. 

“Well, I couldn’t just let you clean all this up by yourself,” he said softly, rinsing off the dirty sponge and setting it on the side of the sink.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room was the buzz of the refrigerator. Your nervous habit of tucking your hair behind your ear struck again, but it made you notice the thick green material covering your fingers.

“Oh, here, thanks for this,” you said as you started taking off his sweatshirt. 

“No, it’s okay, keep it for now, it’s chilly in here. You can give it to me tomorrow,” he rambled.

“Okay. It is really warm, I might just steal it.” You winked.

“It looks good on ya, brings out your pretty eyes.” His surge of confidence quickly melted away as he cleared his throat and continued to babble. “Uh, it’s from the army. That’s why it’s so warm, they don’t make stuff like that anymore.”

You giggled and then hummed in agreement. You looked down at your hands and wrung them together, the sting from the punching bag reminding you about the guilt you still felt from this morning.

“I’m sorry I was such a jerk today. Um, thanks for…” you lifted your sleeve covered hand, “helping me.”

“Hey, we all have our days,” he said, taking your raised hand in his and rolling up the sleeve, showing your red knuckles. His brow furrowed in concern as he gently ran his fingers over the red marks. He shook his head and breathed a laugh out his nose. “You’re stubborn as all hell, ya know that?”

Your eyes lifted from your hands to his smirk. “I’ve been told once or twice.”

He chuckled softly and you thought of what you could say to make him laugh again. It was a wonderful sound. 

He covered your hand with the sleeve and returned it to your side. “Better lay off the punching bags for a few days.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” You said. He chuckled again and the sound made your chest swell.

You knew the conversation was over, but you didn’t want to leave him just yet. You leaned against the kitchen counter and played with your hair once again trying to find the right words to say.

“Steve told me this was your idea,” you said, implying the movie night.

“Punk,” he interjected, making you giggle. 

“Thanks.” You said simply. 

“Ya know, Steve calls you our ‘ray of sunshine,’” he mocked. “But it’s true. We just hate to see you upset. I hate to see you upset.” He admitted quietly.

What came out of his mouth was not what you expected. You didn’t know what to say. So you rose to your toes, placed a hand on his chest and kissed him quickly on the cheek before saying “Goodnight, Bucky,” and turning away.

You took two steps and you were about to enter the hallway when a hand wrapped around your wrist, turned you around, and pulled you into Bucky’s strong body. His lips quickly latched onto yours in a gentle kiss.

His hands cupped both sides of your face while yours settled on his waist. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss and wrapped your arms around him and tugged on the back of his shirt. His fingers pushed through your hair and held your locks at the back of your head. 

If you thought his scent was sweet when you pulled on his sweatshirt, now it was overwhelming. He swam around you and you happily drowned, never wanting to come up for air because it would mean being away from him.

His tongue begged for entrance and you eagerly allowed it, humming happily as it danced with yours and allowed you to taste even more of him. Your brain convinced you if you didn’t touch every inch of him, you’d combust, so you complied. Your fingertips came around from his back and up his chest, pushing his to land on your hips. As your hands wrapped around his neck and tangled in the hair there, his lifted the sweatshirt just enough for his fingertips to land on your skin and leave flames behind.

It felt like years passed, but you wouldn’t mind spending your entire life in his position. Everything he did was so gentle, you’d never felt anything like it. It was addicting. Now that you had a taste of him, you never wanted to let go, and from the way his body was glued to yours, you knew he felt the same way.

You finally pulled away but only far enough to grab a breath. He rested his forehead on yours and held you tightly around your waist.

“If I knew you were going to kiss me back like that I would have done it ages ago.”

You breathed out a laugh and pulled back and looked into his clear blue eyes. Even in the dark they sparkled.

“Well, now you know,” you laughed, running your hand through his hair and trying to memorize the way the his lips curled into that bright toothy smile. You’d never seen him smile like that.  




BTS React to You Coming Over Soaked from the Rain

(A/N - No gifs are mine. All belong to their creators/ owners, because I am a dunce at gif creation)

You were walking over to spend the day at your best friend’s house, as you did most days, but things didn’t go as you’d expected. You’d dressed lightly, since the weather was warm, just a pair of shorts and a white shirt, and you started feeling a little nervous when the clouds started to roll in. Picking up the pace, you hurried towards the apartment that would shelter you from the rain you could tell was coming, but you weren’t fast enough. A block away from his house, the heavens opened and within a minute, you were soaked to the bone. By the time you were knocking on his door, you looked like something out of The Ring, and were hoping you wouldn’t scare him.



As he opened the door, he was preparing to berate you for being late when he had cooked dinner for the two of you, but his words caught in his throat at the sight of you standing there shivering with your hair falling over your eyes. His gaze travelled over you quickly, shocked at what he was seeing, but on the way back up to your face, he paused, swallowing thickly. He could see *everything* he’d always wanted to. Clearing his throat, he quickly diverted his thoughts, hurriedly running to the bathroom and grabbing a towel to wrap around your shoulders while trying not to think about how much he wanted to see more. If he was going to try anything with you, it wasn’t going to be while you were at a disadvantage. It would be when you were both thinking clearly.

“You’re soaked! Didn’t you check the weather forecast before you left home? You’ll get sick!”


Seeing you standing there was almost more than he could take, his eyes going straight to the holy grail he practically worshipped. He licked his lips, hoping he could manage to hide the effect seeing you through the fabric was having on him. You coughed, feeling a little awkward under his gaze, and he looked up to your face. As he did so, he realised just how much you were shaking and quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you inside and wrapping his arms tightly around you as he hurried you over to the couch. Once he had you safely seated, he tucked a blanket over you and rushed to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for you, though the escape was almost as much to give him a few minutes to get himself calmed down and get the blood moving around his body again instead of just staying in one, very obvious, place, although he couldn’t resist palming himself momentarily as he pictured what he had just seen before quickly turning his attention to what he was supposed to be doing.

“You’re lucky you were coming here… You could’ve been on the way to an interview and then what would’ve happened? No, don’t come out here! You stay right there and keep warm! You’re getting pampered tonight missy!”


The moment he opened the door and saw you standing there in a soaked and see through shirt, he knew he was in trouble. His breath caught in his throat, and try as he might, he couldn’t keep himself from reacting to the sight of the woman he adored virtually on display for him. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the house and closing the door behind you with unusual care, trying to distract himself. It didn’t work, and before he could stop himself, he had you pinned to the wall, his lips pressed against yours hungrily. In his mind, he tried to rationalise it as wanting to warm you up, but after a moment or two of you pressed against his body, slowly melting into the kiss, he couldn’t deny any more that he simply wanted you. All of you. Lifting you into his arms, he carried you to the couch, lowering you onto it and starting to peel off the soaked clothes, eager to see you without even the transparent fabric.

“You should know better than to be around a man in a shirt that could go see through like that, you know. You never know what he might do to you…”


Namjoon had been planning to confess to you that night, though he was nervous as to how you would take it. When he saw you there, though, part of him was relieved to have something more important to focus on. Pulling you inside quickly, he wrapped his arms tightly around you and cradled you against his chest, rubbing your back to try to warm it. Before he even registered what he was doing, he was pulling the shirt off over your head, freezing when he realised he was no longer looking at a dressed best friend but his crush with no shirt on. Staring down at you, his brain switched into autopilot and he crushed his lips to yours, not even caring whether he was ruining a friendship. Even if you hated him for this, he had to taste you. As you moaned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, he lifted you quickly and pinned you to the wall, wasting no time in slipping his hand past the waistband of your shorts as his lips trailed to your neck.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? And now you come here looking like this? You must really want to be punished, baby… How about letting me warm you up, hmm?”


Jimin adored you with every breath of his being, and seeing your skin through the fabric wasn’t doing him any favors. Nevertheless, he couldn’t risk wrecking the most important relationship he had. No matter what it took, he would make sure he never lost you, even if it meant never telling you he loved you. You were wobbling from the tremors the soaked cold clothing was causing, and you took a shaky step forward to enter, but he could see the shaking was making it tricky. He quickly picked you up and kicked the door shut behind him, carrying you to the bathroom and stripping your clothes off without batting an eyelash, ignoring the complaints from you. He turned on the water in the shower and pushed you under the warm current, before stripping to his boxers and following you in. He gently washed you, rubbing his hands over your skin until it was no longer chilled, though as he did so, he found his hands slowing, his body reacting to the soft sighs from you as he washed your back. Deciding to take a risk, he leaned closer, pressing his lips lightly to your neck, his arms snaking around your waist as you all but purred at the sensation.

“I didn’t want to risk losing you, but I can’t risk never doing this. You have no idea how much I love you. You’re the most precious thing in the world.”


Tae had had a thing for you for years, the feelings growing stronger and stronger until it was almost killing him trying to keep them hidden. So when you pushed past him into his apartment, dripping water everywhere, he started wondering if he had finally lost his mind. What else could explain how glorious you looked, standing there in a see through shirt and shorts that were clinging to you in a way that left nothing to the imagination? He bit back the groan that was threatening to surface at the sight of you bending over, trying to peel off the shoes that were sticking to your feet. He thought he had it under control until you turned to face him with a sheepish smile, your shirt sticking to every curve and niche of your torso, and the blood quickly started to flow south. In a split second, he went from the innocent little puppy you knew so well to a complete stranger that made your breath hitch at the sheer lust in his eyes. Before you could say anything, he had picked you up and carried you to his room, dropping you unceremoniously on the bed and clambering on after you with a dangerous smirk.

“Why do you always make things so hard for me? It’s difficult enough being around you on a normal day without wanting to make you scream, but now? Now I will.”


Kookie was still staring at the place you had been standing when he opened the door, but you had already entered, kicked off your shoes, and flopped onto the couch with a groan. Realising suddenly what had happened, he closed the door with a small cough and made his way over, sinking down next to you. You leaned against him and he shifted slightly, his eyes drifting down to look at the soaking body beside him. Bad idea. Quickly, he grabbed a cushion and set it on his lap, trying to appear nonchalant, but when you lay down with your head on the cushion, it was all he could do to keep from moaning out loud at the pressure on his lap combined with the sight of you virtually lying on it. It was already somewhat dark in the living room thanks to the clouds outside and he decided to take a risk, resting his hand on your chest and letting it trace lightly over the cold fabric. The soft sigh of contentment at the warmth of his hand only made things…harder, and he grew bolder, slipping his hand under your shirt to caress your skin. It felt just as soft and delicate as he had imagined, and he knew there was no way he was stopping now unless you told him to.

“You have no idea how perfect you are. I’ve pictured what you look like so many times, but that couldn’t possibly compare to the real thing. You make the Venus de Milo look like a piece of garbage.”

A trade off for @societyslostone, who drew an icon for me! (Shout out to the anon who sent the request and giving me free range on the ship lol)

(Shance. Canon Universe)

Lance watched with tired eyes as Shiro repeatedly paced the small length of the cell. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Over and over and over as if that movement, now the product of muscle memory, could free the two.

Lance knew Shiro felt guilty. The two had been fighting off a crowd of Galra. Both were holding their own fairly well, but one particular solider slid in behind Shiro and swung a giant hammer down onto the older paladin’s back. Shiro crumpled under the weight of the weapon, but he remained awake.

For a moment, Lance had frozen, but when he locked eyes with Shiro’s and Shiro gave a slight shake of the head, he snapped.

For two minutes, the only sounds were Lance’s Bayard firing off and bodies dropping to the floor. He had cleared a path to Shiro, but only seconds after he has dropped to his knees beside the black paladin, the two became surrounded by another mass of Galra.

Neither had to say a word to know they were going to surrender, and only minutes later, the two were tossed into a small cell without their helmets, without any way of communicating to the others.

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Wish (Part 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Pairing: Kagehina
Show: Haikyuu!! 
Summary: Howl’s Moving Castle AU, in which Kageyama makes a wish upon a falling star, and gets Hinata instead.

The days that followed passed by with ever-growing tension. Upon reaching a safe distance from the town, Tobio had carried a limp, rapidly cooling Hinata onward, up into the mountains, where he found a cave deep enough to seek shelter.

There, he built a fire of his own, contained in a little pit made of stacked stones, and he laid the demon out beside it to keep him warm. He fed them both with dried wood that he gathered outside the cave, and when he cooked for himself, he slipped Hinata his egg shells, seeds, or cut-off strips of meat, but it was difficult. Hinata was barely present enough to eat. Tobio spent his time crushing, grinding, or even chewing up his food enough for Hinata to swallow it down.

All the while, the little hollow in his chest where his heart used to be grew colder. In the hours when the weather beyond the cave was dismal and the fire not enough, the empty space in him ached with the chill, so much so he had lifted Hinata up into his lap before the flame, and wrapped his arms about his chest to hold in what little heat he had.

It helped to warm him, but the pain remained all the same.

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“It’s Kinda Distracting...” (Joji)

Anon Request: I really would like to read a post about the reader trying to get Joji to stop editing for a bit and to pay attention to her, like he’s trying to focus but he eventually gives in? Like maybe reader just starts to give him the succ and he can’t help it? I just love this blog it’s chill if you have other stuff to do too dude

I sat in bed, patiently waiting for Joji to finish whatever he was doing on the computer and climb in bed next to me. I had been libidinous for the past week and a half, craving his touch and wanting his hands all over me. At first, I left him alone, wanting him to finish whatever project he had himself set on. But as time went on, the less he came to bed. I would hear the water of the shower on, signaling he was occupying the bathroom, but he would come out newly dressed in some sleepwear and then go back to his “man cave” to proceed with what he was doing earlier. I laid there on my back, trying to make myself engaged in some other activity other than just staring blankly at nothing. The TV bored me and made me lethargic, my eyes drooping slowly. I sat up rapidly, slapping myself out of it, I went over to Joji’s little “man cave”, opening the door, I saw him behind his desk on his laptop in nothing but his plaid, flannel pajama pants. I leaned on the doorframe using my shoulder as I crossed my arms over my chest. I bit my lip as I watched him: his damp hair slightly getting in his view as his eyes concentrated on the screen, his bare torso exposed as he sat there unbothered.

“Hey.” I let out softly letting my fingers dance across the wooden frame of the door, “You coming to bed?”

“Uh…what time is it?” he asked without looking up, the mouse clicking louder than usual.

“Currently, it is twelve o’ three a.m.” I answered looking at the nearby clock.

Fearlessly, I walked into the room hoping I’d catch his eye, but I didn’t succeed. I sat on the edge of his desk and he sighed, telling me he wasn’t finished with what he was working on. With my bare legs, and being in nothing but my underwear, he wasn’t paying attention. Joji loved it when I showed off this much skin and would refuse to keep his hands off of my body. He was not even close to finishing up his work, but that didn’t mean he had to put me off the way he was. I brought myself back onto my feet and walked behind the chair he was seated on, I placed my hands-on his shoulders and massaged them lightly. Leaning into him a little slightly, I placed a soft kiss on the skin of his neck, earning an annoyed groan from him.

“Baby, not right now, okay? I’m not done editing yet. And after I’m done with this I need to edit a video I’m uploading soon.” he whined as he shrugged me off, “We can continue this tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

“You promised me yesterday…” I muttered.

Although it dawned on me that I should leave him alone so he can edit at his own pace without feeling rushed, I couldn’t help but grow more impatient as the minutes, hours, seconds, went by. I sighed and brought myself to my knees, not wanting to let any more time to go to waste. I made sure to make quick movements before I changed my mind completely. Joji was always one to cherish his time alone when it came to editing, and I was the one to always respect that, but he’s never edited this long before. Crawling my way around his desk in order to enter through the open front part of it, I was pretty bothered by the fact he hadn’t noticed me duck down onto my hands and knees or noticed me as I crawled away. My chin came in contact with his knee lightly as I placed it on there, hoping he’d get the gist of what my actions were trying to show him. Joji seemed to not have any reaction to what I was doing so I amped up my motions: I let my hand trail up his clothed leg, the loose fabric so thin I could manage to feel his leg hairs through his pants. My hand stopped at his crotch, to which he then sat up straighter with a jolt, “Whoa, hey…what are you doing under there?” he asked me confused.

“I just wanna touch you a little bit…” I admitted as I continued to caress his groin area.

“Babe, come on out from under there. It’s kinda distracting…I told you I’m busy editing.” he sighed in his ‘I told you already not to do that’ tone.

“Keep editing…I promise you wont get too distracted.” I explained as I somehow found my hand creeping it’s way into his pants.

Joji agreed to letting me touch him as he worked. There were a few times, within the couple of minutes that I sat there jerking him off, I felt him suppress moans and grunts. As he grew harder I decided to let my mouth do the rest of the work. I took his length from out of his boxers and his pants, the cold air making him feel relieved due to the temperature rising in his pants. The clicks of his mouse continued as I begin licking up his shaft slowly, then taking him in my mouth as I swirled my tongue along his tip. Joji gasped then cleared his throat, as if he didn’t want me to know how good it made him feel because he was too busy focusing on his bright screen. Taking more of him in my mouth was always challenging since he was big in size but it was well worth it if it meant getting a reaction out of him. He groaned in a rough manner, his clenched fists now lying beside him. With one hand on his shaft, I made swift movements with my wrist skillfully as I carried on sucking. Sooner than expected, his hands found their way into my hair, entangling in the nest on my head as he tried putting my hair in a ponytail. It wasn’t long enough until his moans became irregular and more notable as they got louder. He sucked in a breath as I took his cock out of my mouth and looked up at him. His eyes were dark as he bit his lip, motioning me to keep going. I knew he was close and instead of me making a witty comment, I went back to sucking him off. Using my tongue to massage his length as I bobbed my head up and down with his help, he cussed in Japanese. It turned me on when he did that and even if this was just me sucking him off and not him fucking me after, I didn’t care…he was a sight to see what he was in pleasure.

“Y/N…fuck.” he breathed.

Placing my hands on either side of his thighs, I took more of him into my mouth, earning moans from him, I took it as my sign of approval.

“Y/N..” he moaned with his hand entangled in my hair as the other was clenching the arm of the chair, “Fuck, stop…I- I’m gonna cum.”

The thing I loved most about sucking Joji off was that he would always try and cut it short for fear that he might cum too quickly but would give in anyway if it meant that at the end of the day it would be me getting the job done. His grip on my hair got tighter and he cussed once more in his foreign language before whispering, “Fuck, just like that, baby.”

Doing as I was told, he moaned, his cock twitching in my mouth as his cum doused the back of my throat. Letting out a chain of cuss words from his lips, he lightly panted as I persisted to suck him off. Joji let out a grunt and removed my lips from his cock. I studied him attentively as he got up from his chair and held out his hand to me. Thinking he was going to help me up from my spot under his desk, I was in for a wild ride when he instead yanked me up on my feet and turned me around so that my butt was facing him and my hips were pressed against his desk. It was as though he’d finally snapped out of his trance and acknowledged me, as he should.

“Thought you didn’t wanna get distracted?” I provoked, turning my head to look at him.

Joji was strenuously removing my underwear from under the oversized shirt but soon stopped once it fell to my ankles. He chuckled to himself, “Thought this was what you wanted?” he told me in a taunting manner as he slipped a finger inside me.

I gasped and gripped the desk so hard it made my knuckles turn white. Joji went on and added another finger, he pumped them inside me vigorously. Hanging my head low as my moans grew louder, he suddenly stopped. About a few seconds passed by with no action or motion from him so I turned around to see what it was he was doing and I witnessed him sucking his fingers before he grasped his cock and pushed himself inside me at a fast pace. I grabbed one of his hands that was placed on my waist and tightened my clutch on it as he filled me with every inch of him, clouding my mind with euphoria. Joji grunted in an animalistic manner when he began thrusting faster and rougher, taking my leg and propping it up on the desk made it more so he had more access and could go deeper than he already was. I removed my hand from his and slammed it flat back on the desk, letting my hands and arms glide forward so that the upper part of my body was occupying the desk. Joji’s fingers worked my clit earning a loud moan from me.

“Joji..” I warned him with my eyes shut tightly as I focused on how sensual he was making me feel.

Alternatively, he took this as his signal to get rougher and faster, which is exactly what he did. I brought my self back up on my hands and Joji began ramming me with his thick cock, turning me into a spastic moaning disaster. My moans became consistent and as did his. Gripping his hands tightly, I came all over him as he continued thrusting distortedly, letting me know he was going to cum, so I turned around and took his length into my mouth once more as I planted my my knees on the floor. Joji’s hands went straight for my hair as I sucked him off, he moaned in a raspy deep tone. Once he came, I swallowed willingly and got up, observing his panting figure as he plopped himself into his swivel chair, tucking his dick away. He was sweaty and so was I. Picking my underwear up with his fingers, he smiled and threw them at me, “You gonna go back to editing?” I asked with my eyebrow raised as I began putting my underwear on.

“I’m not done with you yet…that was round one, I’m taking a small break. So there’s no use in putting those back on.” he laughed referring to my lace underwear as they were hooked with my fingertips.

I slid them down and went to sit on his lap, “Let’s move this somewhere more comfortable.” he winked at me.

Distracting him was my best idea yet, and even Joji agreed.


This has been in the works for months and months. I simply haven’t had the inspiration nor the time to write honestly. It’s not my best writing, but I tried to get myself back into things. I’ve missed writing and you guys

Warning: SMUT

Length: 7,000+ words

               It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Those sweet lips of his shouldn’t have been so bitter. Those eyes weren’t supposed to be so dark.

               To be fair, tonight was the one night that everyone could be whoever they wanted to. You had just fallen for his innocent ploy. How were you supposed to know those wings of his were real?

               It was Halloween. The sky was blackened and overcast, consuming the moon’s light. Careful of the brisk cold, you chose a costume that allowed for you to cover up well. Your long white dress dragged against the concrete even though you were wearing high heels. Your friend pulled you along, rushing you as if you were terribly late. There was still plenty of time though. You had all night.

               Someone had rented a club to throw a party. You had no idea who, but apparently they were a friend of a friend and that meant that you had somehow received a gorgeous black invitation with loopy orange lettering. Not one to refuse an opportunity to be someone else for a few hours, you graciously accepted and now you were trying to navigate through the gray fog covering the venue’s floor without stepping on anyone’s feet.

               There were more people here than you had expected and though you had entered holding your friend’s hand, she was suddenly nowhere to be found. The sea of masks made it near impossible to search for her. However, you weren’t too concerned. You would end up crossing paths again at some point.

               You decided to hold the hem of your gown as you strolled to make sure you didn’t trip as the ground was virtually undetectable under the man-made smoke. Hoisting yourself up onto a stool by the bar, you got your bearing as you sat and observed. The club was eerily beautiful with glass chandeliers casting a blue tinted glow on the shimmering onyx walls and floors.

               A tap on your shoulder startled you out of your awe. Spinning in your seat, you came face to face with the bartender. He wore a cape and fake elongated canine teeth for a vampire feel. He wanted to know if you wanted a drink.

               The corners of your lips upturned. In fact, you did. “Could you make something that goes with my costume?” you asked playfully.

               He smiled at your request but his white contact lenses made the expression seem sinister. “Anything for an angel,” he replied flirtily.

               You were grateful that he could tell your intended guise as you weren’t wearing fake wings. But to be fair, you had your back to him earlier, so maybe he has caught sight of the huge black wings tattooed on your skin. Though your white dress had long sleeves and was floor length, it was also totally backless. It exposed your ink well. If your gold halo didn’t give away what you were attempting, a good look at your back would.

               The bartender came back with something bubbling in a wine glass with flecks of gold leaf floating the in honey-colored liquid.

               “What is it?” you inquired as you handed the handsome blood sucker a bill.

               “Unicorn blood,” he answered with a wink.

               You appreciated his cleverness in the choice. Wiggling your fingers in farewell, you stood to leave.

               “Come back for some Hell Fire,” he called after you. You nodded without looking back and made no promises.

               Taking a sip from your glass, you were pleasantly surprised by the taste of passion fruit mixed with champagne. The sweetness cut the bitterness and the carbonation lightened the thickness of the juice. You really were going to have to return for that Hell Fire if it was anything like this.

               A firm hand gripped your elbow and you whipped around so fast that you almost spilled your cocktail. It was your friend, looking sexier than before in her police woman outfit now that she was sweating a little. She had found the dance floor without you and had even found herself a Joker to sway with. Kindly, he accepted you as an adoption to their duo and you danced with your friend as she danced with the both of you.

               Draining your Unicorn’s blood after a few songs, you decided to leave your friend to her criminal and sought out the bar again. There was a line this time and you secured yourself a small section of counter to lean against as you waited. You draped your hair to one side as you could feel the alcohol and dancing warm you from the inside. Not wanting your makeup to melt just yet, you fanned yourself with your hands. The gold bangles that adorned your wrists tinkled musically loud enough to catch the bartender’s attention. He flashed his fangs at you teasingly as he mixed a margarita.

               You were mid-chuckle when you felt a chill crawl up your spine. Goose bumps erupted on your arms and you searched for the cause. Eyes darting around, you caught sight of a tall man dressed in all black staring at you from across the room. He stood completely still even as you locked eyes. You couldn’t read his expression as an elegant mask made of lace obscured half of his face. The fabric was a stunning shade of crimson, which was at complete odds with his charcoal suit. But it did have the benefit of drawing your interest straight to his eyes, which were piercing.

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Trying Something New (Smut)


Request: Can u do a kinky Shawn smut??? Thanks!!

Word Count: 1,663

Trying Something New

From Favourite boy toy: Hey babe, just letting you know, I land at 5 today. Can’t wait to see you.

To favourite boy toy: Yay, I miss you so much. Mine or your place then?

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wolfandthief  asked:

PROMPT: Being a serpent now meant it was easier to protect Betty too. and when something happens where she needs it most, that's exactly what he does.

Hope this is kind of what you wanted! Thanks for requesting! Enjoy!

Title: Riding Into Danger

Summary: Betty has been busy searching for her long lost brother while Jughead has spent most of his time trying to find his footing in his new role as a Serpent. When Betty and Kevin take a road trip to visit said brother, things get dangerous when a mysterious man is seen following them through a dive bar.

*Adding a keep reading cut so if you’re on mobile, the story gets cut off. Sorry!*

“Betty? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

Jughead could tell something was off the second he heard the odd tone in her voice - uncertain, a little high pitched, on the verge of panic. The last time he remembered her sounding like this, they were in the middle of uncovering the murder of Jason Blossom and, for reasons that warranted zero explanation, this did not sit well with him.

“I don’t know, Kevin and I were on our way to meet with my brother and-” Betty scrambled to explain their situation, her words coming out rushed and slurred from the the overload of adrenaline surging through her body.

“Wait what?” Jughead cut her off, his fingers clenching tighter around the cellphone as he tried to fathom the idea of Betty actually meeting the brother she didn’t even know she had until a few months before. “Since when?”

“You’ve been busy, Jug, we haven’t really had time to dish it out and spill our latest gossip these past few weeks,” Betty pointed out, the ancient payphone she was using crackling in protest at the unexpected movement that came with her gesticulating hands.

“I know, and I’m sorry for that but I’ve only been a Serpent for a few months, Bets,” Jughead reminded her. “I have to be around when they need me, I can’t afford to be a no-show, especially when things have been so tense around here lately.”

“Look we can talk about this later,” Betty told him, the phone pulling away from her ear slightly as she glanced behind her shoulder at the man sitting in a far corner of the building they had stumbled into looking for help. “But right now, we’re in this dive bar in the middle of nowhere, there’s this guy that’s been following us for the past two hours, and I think Kevin is on the verge of having a panic attack-”

Jughead furrowed his brows in confusion at the rustling coming from the other end of the receiver as Kevin dove forward to take the phone from Betty’s grasp.

“This place is worse than the White Worm and that fear-inducing cobra they keep as a mascot,” Kevin spat, his voice rising an octave higher with each syllable that came out of his mouth. “I swear there are rats the size of Shetland ponies crawling on this disease infested floor, get us the hell out of here!”

Betty snatched the phone away from Kevin, glaring at him from her spot in the phone booth before turning her back to him completely.

“What are you guys doing in a dive bar anyway?” Jughead asked, his brows knitting together as he pushed away the half-eaten basket of fries sitting on the counter in front of him.

“It’s a long story,” Betty sighed. “But basically Kevin forgot to fill up the tank before we left and we got stranded on some back road with no cell service where we spent most of the day pushing his Dad’s truck through the desert.”

“Okay, and the guy who’s following you?” Jughead wondered, his senses beginning to prickle with worry. “What’s the story there?”

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Harbor In the Tempest (3/5)

After an attack by the Lost Boys, Emma and Killian find themselves in an impossible situation. Canon divergence from 3x07.

A/N: This chapter is the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place. Please don’t kill me. Endless gratitude to @caprelloidea for letting me yell at you about this.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4272

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

AO3 |

The sun slowly crawls across the sky, passing its zenith and giving way to soft late-afternoon light. Neither Killian nor Emma really know what to do with themselves, and they fall into an odd type of silence the likes of which he’s never felt before. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, not even sitting as closely as they are, not even with the full weight of what’s happening to her hanging between them. It’s not uncomfortable but defeated, like waiting for a ship to slowly sink on the open sea.   

Every time he’s lost someone it’s happened quickly, going far beyond just Liam and Milah. Crewmen lost in battle or knocked overboard in violent tempests, first mates taken down by a knife fight in a tavern, a father gone without warning in the middle of the night. Death and loss are abrupt, sudden things for him, a simple flick of a wrist and a severed hand.

This is new. He knows what’s happening as well as she, both of them helpless to do any more than listen to the cliff up above, hoping for the sound of her parents or Regina coming through the woods overhead and frightened that it will never come. That’s new for him too, the fear crawling up his spine, an emotion that hasn’t seized him so completely in centuries.

For awhile he contemplates taking her hand again, lacing his fingers with hers to keep them warm, give her something to hang onto. He eventually decides against it. She’d accepted his touch earlier, even seemed to welcome it when he placed his hand to her forehead. But a sort of grim acceptance seems to have come over her ever since Pan’s visit, and he’s reluctant to try and talk much - he knows the topic of conversation would likely drift into unpleasantness soon enough.

He doesn’t know how to be there for her, but he aches to try.

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(Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader)

Word Count: 6033

Request/Summary: No request! (again…). Based off of Ed Sheeran’s Happier

Warnings: Brief diet smut, drinking because of emotional pain, way too many Dirty Dancing references (may or may not have been watching it while writing…)  angst, cussing.

Tagging: @satans-little-midgets @imagineham (extra special thanks to Steph for helping me with the title) @gwynstacee  @bleepblopbloop56 aaannnddd thanks to @hamilton-noodles most of this fic exists, so thanks, Jo.


Side note- Italics is the past, regular is the present. The present is organized linearly and the past is ambiguous to any specific order.

“Good morning.” Oak’s voice crackled as if he was speaking to you through a phone somewhere with bad reception, still coarse from his full night of sleep. You smiled. You couldn’t be mad at him for waking you up. You couldn’t be mad when he whispered in your ear like that. When you were encased in those big arms of his. When it was just cold enough in the room for you to want to stay close to him and under the mess of covers.

“Good morning.” You muttered back. You didn’t want to leave this moment behind. Not when he had his body wrapped around you, his breath against your skin, the room smelling just slightly of coffee, the covers soft against your skin, not when you were feeling like you were sinking into the mattress more and more with every passing second. You rolled over in his arms, your fingers finding the smooth polyester fabric of his navy colored t-shirt. You fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

“I don’t want to get out of bed.” You told him, inhaling the scent of his chest- lavender, just like the soap bar you kept in the shower… for yourself.

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Two To Tango (Bucky x Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I had the day off today and got the opportunity to work on a request I had gotten a couple of days ago (The whole thing is inspired by these two routines from Dancing with the Stars). I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Summary/Anon Request: Imagine being a part of the team and being a dancer on the side and the team comes to support you in an event and everyone is taken aback by the way you move, especially Bucky. But it bothers him that your dresses/costumes all look like lingerie and your very attractive dance partner looks like he’s ready to take you then and there.

Other Characters: The Avengers

Warnings: Fluff, angst?, jealousy, language

Word Count: 1,072

Originally posted by im-peter-peterpan

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Eaten Alive

This is a Spideypool/Marvel fanfic – None of the characters or the fandom belongs to me

A/N: This is probably the cheesiest and silliest fanfic I have ever written, I hope the Marvel-Fandom can forgive me for this. Also, a reaaaally big hug and thank you at @spookytickles who was so kind to help me think of a title (okay actually I did nothing so credit to you bro :D )

Summary: Wade comes back home and tells Peter from his mission where he fell into a tank of mutant piranhas. He tries to show Peter how it was to be eaten alive by the little beasts.
Warning: This fanfic contains lots of fluff and tickling


Ohh Peter~

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anonymous asked:

Hi ladies! Love everything you do? Can we get something with Claire doing something badass and Jamie being scared for her yet proud and impressed cuz, ya know, she's HIS foul mouthed, badass Sassenach :D

Mute: Part Eight:

Find other parts: HERE.

Yawning, Claire hiccuped, the lasting taste of whisky coating her tongue as she shifted her weight delicately against the straw pallet.

Against her back, Jamie wrapped his arm fully around her waist and pulled her close.

Claire stilled, panic slowly slithering down her spine as repressed memories sparked behind her eyes. Slinking out from beneath Jamie, she clenched her hands into fists as she stood, pacing the length of the quiet barn.

The sun had only just begun to rise and the subtle shades of deep orange filtered through the panels of the wood, sending eerie shadows floating across the straw coated floor. The cold bit at her nose as she wiped it delicately on her sleeve, trying desperately to ward away her past.

Murtagh, awoken by her pacing, leaned up on his elbow and watched as Claire walked off her anguish. He could see the tense set of her shoulders, and although he wondered what had set the lass off, he let her be. Knowing that she would come to either him or Jamie if she needed to work through her concerns with them.

Her eyes, unfocused as they were, failed to notice her erstwhile voyeur as he kept watch over her. Unable to rest, she grabbed the sweeping brush and began to brush the stray straw into tiny mounds at one end of the stable. With nobody to talk to, she needed to keep her hands busy.

Jamie, suddenly overcome with a chill, opened his eyes to find Claire gone. It didn’t take him long to find her, huddled up the corner clutching the battered broom between her fingers. Sensing her nervousness, he walked slowly forwards, wrapping his bedraggled kilt around his hips as he went.

“Claire,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to read his lips in the darkened space. Reaching out, he let his fingers rest idly against her frozen hand.

Dropping the brush, Claire flopped against Jamie’s chest, exhaustion filling her from head to toe. She had only been up a matter of hours but the effect of her panic was showing.

“Hush now, a nighean,” Jamie soothed, rocking her backwards and forwards, his mouth resting softly against her ear in the hopes that she could actually hear, if only wee bits of his speech.

Pushing herself upright, Claire pulled back, needing another moment to herself. Slipping her hands beneath the fabric of the skirts of her shift, she fiddled with the inner hem, plucking at the thin fibres that held the loose fabric together.

Jamie could tell she wanted to talk, but his limited knowledge of sign language would make much more than a sentence difficult to comprehend.

“Murtagh?” He called, certain that his godfather would be awake by now.

Shaking her head, Claire moved further back, her feet shuffling along the –now clean– floorboards.

Bringing her hands up, she began to sign, clearly still on edge as Murtagh came up behind Jamie, his brows drawn together in confusion.

‘It was a long time ago now, Jamie, don’t worry…please.’

Jamie shifted his focus from Claire to Murtagh having only caught a few words in her hand gestures, nothing that he could be certain was right.

Waiting, Jamie held himself at a distance whilst Murtagh addressed Claire, trying to keep up with their silent conversation. Claire blushed and dipped her head, letting her curls fall loose over her face as she communicated with Murtagh.

“She’s, well…” Murtagh began, reticent to tell Jamie what she had told him. “Claire’s engaged –or was–, t’ an Englishman.”

Shocked by the news, Jamie took a step backwards, swallowing as he absorbed the news. It shouldn’t have hit him as harshly as it had. It had been clear to him from the beginning that she’d more experience than he. Appearing out of the blue without any noticeable proof of where she’d come from, he should have guessed she either had a distinctly grey passed or was running from something.

As it was, swept up in their whirlwind of their feelings for one another, he had thought little about it.

Until now.

He watched as she brought her head back up, tears brimming in her eyes as she signed some more and waited for Murtagh to translate for her.

“She wants me to tell ye that she doesna love him, that she left him-” he paused, waiting for her to continue on before translating the rest, “I think she says because he hurt her, but I canna be sure. There are signs she’s using that I dinna ken.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Claire steadied herself and reached for Jamie, needing the contact just for a moment before giving Murtagh a message.

“She says she’ll write it for ye, that,” furrowing his brow once more, Murtagh leaned forwards and watched carefully as Claire darted towards the entrance to the stables, her hands leaving Jamie’s sides in an instant as she signed ‘I love you’, and skittered off.

“I take it ye caught the meaning o’ her last words, lad?” Murtagh questioned, not wanting the poor boy to remain in the dark.

“Aye. Aye, I did.” Pausing, Jamie ran his fingers through his hair, tangling them in the mass of knots that littered his sleep-mussed locks. “Do ye think…” he began, his heart pounding against his ribcage at the mere thought of her with anyone else.

“Nah, she’s wi’ *ye* right enough. Through her constant harassment by Dougal she’s stayed, and I doubt anyone is coming for her anytime soon. Dinna fash, Jamie lad. Whatever comes of her writing to ye, I can guarantee that lassie is devoted to ye.”

In the cold damp of the old surgery, Claire battled to find a dry sheet of paper and a working quill, desperate not to be on her own in the deep confines of the castle for too long.

As fast as she could she wrote down the finite details of her ordeal, excluding her trip through time. She was certain she’d be able to convince Jamie that nobody was coming for her. She just needed to get this out. He needed to know about her past so he could actively decide if she was worth marrying.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her round just as she finished the final sentence, messing up the ink on the last word.

Dougal stood at her side, his face bright red as he held onto her.

He was drunk, she could smell the ripe whisky on his breath as he pulled her close to his face.

‘No…’ she mouthed, a short half silent gasp falling from her lips as the air passed through her useless voicebox.

“Dinna ye fight me!” He all but shouted in her face, his eyes boring holes into hers as he walked her backwards.

Still reeling from their first encounter, and raw from the note she’d just penned to Jamie discussing her past acquaintances with men, Claire battled hard to free herself.

Driving her knee hard, she slammed her leg into his groin, pushing him back with one big jolt as she tugged her arm free. She’d have bruises, no doubt, but that was nothing in comparison with anything else he might do with her should he gain power over her.

No more, she decided, grabbing a small stood from the corner of the room and lifting it over her head as if to strike.

She waited, though, hoping that the stupid drunken fool would reconsider any further action once he stood and saw her ready for battle.

“Why…” he started, a mean glint behind his eyes as he stumbled upright, clutching his crotch in a feeble attempt to stop the pain, “ye little wench. I’ll have ye…”

Dropping the stool with measured accuracy, Claire smacked the warchief right on the top of the head, watching as the half smashed wood ricocheted off in a myriad of different directions leaving Dougal in a passed out heap on the floor.

Slamming her foot into his side, she made sure that the fool was completely under before stepping over him, her heart racing as she bolted for the exit.

Murtagh and Jamie stood at the bottom of the stairs, both of their mouths hanging open as they watched Claire fight herself free.

The moment they’d heard the racket beneath, both Fraser men had dashed downwards to see what on earth was going on.

On seeing Claire –yet again– in Dougal’s grubby hands, Jamie had all but launched himself forwards, meaning to break the pair apart and do some serious damage to his inebriated uncle.

Murtagh, though, saw the intense look on Claire’s face. She needed this chance to stand up for herself, he decided. She needed to know she had the strength and power to get herself free of any unexpected situation that might arise when either he and Jamie weren’t directly on hand to assist. So he had put his arm out and forced Jamie to stay where he was, whispering a soft - ‘we’re here, ken. Let the lass find hersel’. If she doesna –we’ll stop Dougal afore he does anything.’

As Claire caught sight of Jamie and Murtagh, she shook the terror from her bones, the mix of adrenaline and fear running hot through her veins as she shakily picked the note from the table and handed it to a very angry Jamie.

‘Read it, I’ll be waiting…I truly do love you, Jamie Fraser.’

Squeezing her way passed him, Claire looked straight ahead not daring to even look back as she made her way upwards once more, determined to flee the castle as quickly as possible.

The cold air hit her hard as she stumbled down the narrow stone pathway leading away from the Leoch portcullis, the dim hum of the morning meal vibrating through the cobbles as she meandered off towards the stables. Seeking peace, she made herself at home beneath a large tree out in the paddock, letting the wind whip around her as she leaned her head back and let out a large breath.

Pacing the surgery still, Jamie crumpled the wee note in between his fingers, smudging the hurriedly written text as he smashed it with his palms.

“Easy, lad.” Murtagh soothed, watching his godson as he strode up and down the tiny room, anger ablaze behind his eyes. “Do ye think she’s no’ struggling wi’ this too?”

“That’s why she near bolted this morning, aye? When I came up behind her. Iffrinn!”

“Filthy English brutes if ye ask me, and her intended…” Murtagh scoffed, spitting at his feet and wiping his shoes through the damp dirt as if to rid himself of the taste, “letting them anywhere near her wi’ their vile touch.”

“Aye, I ken,” Jamie returned, a dark menace lacing his tone, “he had better no’ find himself here, Murtagh.”

“Yer right, we’ll skin the bastard.”

Forgetting themselves, the men bandied words to and fro, their ire heightening as they tried to comprehend how Claire’s situation had gone so awry.

She’d put a little detail into her letter, starting with the basic facts.

Claire had, as she had stated to Murtagh before, been engaged to be married. An English man of high birth it seemed, with some money behind him. Her uncle, before he’d passed, had made sure she had someone around to take care of her. But with the approaching war, her man had been called away, and her with it.

She had also written about her health. She’d still been unable to speak, having been born with the illness that had affected her voice, but she could hear. Perfectly.

At first there had been no issues. Claire had lived in quarters beside her husband, she’d been a healer and had assisted the men with it whenever possible. But then things had taken a turn for the worse.

Drunk one night, her husband had called her to his chambers, handsy and well passed the stage of coherence, he had insisted they lie together as man and wife, almost desperate to get his hands on Claire.

…and she’d gone with him, done as he wished. Eager to please him, her naivety had obliterated anything sensical and she had lost her virginity to him that night.

There was a macabre undertone to her words as she continued on with her sad tale, the words almost deflating as the neatness she’d begun with faded making way for minor errors in spelling. Jamie could see where she’d been holding back her anguish whilst writing, the unsteady lilt to the letters showing her nervousness at writing such a thing.

Unfolding the mass of paper, Jamie smoothed out the sheet and halved it neatly, not wanting to see the words but knowing he couldn’t simply throw this away. Nobody else needed to read it.

Dougal. Jamie had completely forgotten, his attention drawn completely to Claire’s revelation, about his unconscious uncle. Quickly checking his pulse, he carefully moved the man, draping a blanket over his listless form so that he might just assume he’d passed out, rather than been brutally incapacitated by Claire.

Without needing further reminders, he jerked his head towards the exit and marched off in search of Claire. He needed to have her close, and he was pretty sure she needed him too.

With Dougal’s new assault and her confession, she was sure to be feeling more than a little vulnerable.

As he neared the large arch leading out of the castle, Mrs Fitz came storming from the kitchens, a large smile plastered on her face and a large swill of ale resting on her hip.

“Jamie, my boy!” She laughed, her voice echoing through the half empty courtyard, “Collum has made arrangements wi’ us for yer nuptials. I’m sae glad to see a wedding, we havena had one in a wee while. Are ye ready for yer bands to be read in church this week?”

Nodding, Jamie placed his hand on Glenna’s shoulder, trying to ease the pent up look of aggression he’d worn as he’d left Beaton’s old surgery. “Aye, Mrs Fitz, I am. I thank ye for yer kind words, but I must away. My bride is needing me to bring her breakfast.”

“Ach, awa’ wi’ ye then, laddie…and gi’ her a wee kiss from me.”

With a final wave, Jamie freed himself and dashed off, incredibly aware of the time he’d taken between letting Claire leave and now.

“Where do ye think she’ll be?” Jamie questioned, his feet moving as fast as he could get them to go in the direction of their self-made home.

“I dinna think she’ll be far, nay matter what she’ll wait for ye. I can promise you that much.” Murtagh muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon for any hint of the lass.

“There,” he pointed, his hand coming up to tug at Jamie’s sleeve as he noticed movement beneath one of the trees, “sitting on that wee root.”

Turning in the direction, Jamie slowed himself, folding his hands against his stomach as he made his way towards her, keen to make his presence known, not wanting to spook her.

Claire, sensing that she wasn’t alone, looked up, her eyes rimmed red as she glanced warily at Jamie and Murtagh.

“Nay matter what ye’ve told me, Claire” Jamie began, wishing to quash any doubts she had before he spoke further, “I willna severe our union, aye? I love you, and that isna something I say lightly.”

Claire nodded, her nose tinting red as she pursed her lips and swallowed back the relief.

‘When I came here…when I found you. Even after all the heartbreak before, I felt something. It pulled at me, rearranging my insides almost.’

Murtagh translated, as roughly as he was able, whilst Claire stood, coming face to face with Jamie as she signed to him.

‘I didn’t feel his touch on my skin anymore, I felt the echo of you. You might think me daft, hallucinating memories of things that hadn’t even come to pass, but I swear to you it’s true. What happened, what he let happen…I let it happen too, was foolish. I was young and desperate to be taken seriously. But it didn’t matter. I was a joke. They all thought me useful for only one thing, the bloody bastards!’

Placing his palm against her cheek, Jamie took a step forward, his eyes softening as he watched Claire’s harsh gaze, her foot kicking at the soft soil and loosening the wet grass.

“You are so strong, sassenach. Stronger than me, aye?”

Slipping backwards, Murtagh tried to give the lovers some space as Jamie calmed Claire’s frayed nerves. Seeing the flourishing bruises on her arms only made his stomach clench, renewing the anger that he’d managed to subdue before.

Dougal was a hot-headed buffoon, but he was mostly harmless. His aim was always to scare Claire into submission, and when that hadn’t worked he’d simply lost his temper. Even though that was no excuse for his reckless behaviour, comparing that to who Claire had almost married, made him look like a saint.

After his first dalliance with her; Claire’s *honourable* husband-to-be had returned to her bed only a few days later. Only this time, not only was he drunk, but in the company of some other intoxicated army brutes. All of whom had accosted the pair, claiming the admittance of their lovemaking false. Prompted to *prove it*, Claire had been forced into a corner. Either she complied with the request, taking him to her bed whilst the others watched on, or she lost face.

Wanted to appear strong, Claire had metaphorically slapped them in the face, declaring herself no coward as she accepted their vagualy pornagraphic challenge.

She hadn’t wanted to face them during, so had lain with her back facing, her head buried beneath the pillows as she tried to reign in her emotions.

*They’re just men*, she had muttered internally, over and over, *just men and they cannot hurt me, not if I choose not to be hurt*.

But that had been a lie, something she later couldn’t sustain as she’d lay in a blast zone, her ears ringing with the pressure, shell shocked and locked in hushed world of near silence.

*He* had left her soon after that, deployed to a new location, his men sent with him and she had elected to stay behind.

They hadn’t gotten physical with her, she’d noted, but they had made themselves known. Their repulsive, slimy hands had roamed over the bared expanse of her back. And every now and again memories of them would re-surface, making her heart lurch and her palms sweat.

‘I wanted to prove myself,’ 

Claire continued, a revived power underpinning her wild hand gestures, 

‘I wanted to show them that it didn’t matter, they could mock me all they liked, but it was *my* body, and *my* choice.’

Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and Jamie, rocked by the epiphany, pulled in a ragged breath, his fingers sliding gently against Claire’s smooth skin.

‘You, Jamie Fraser, I don’t know what it was about you, but it felt as if I needed you. As if I couldn’t breathe. You lay there at night, your eyes semi-blinking as you slept…and if I reached out to you, you’d smile and my fingertips would pulse with the energy of it.’

“…and ye wanted me because o’ that?” Jamie broke in, interrupting Murtagh’s very quiet translations.

‘I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I forgot everything that came before. My –disability– my lack of voice, of hearing, it wasn’t even a factor for you. When I realised that, that’s when I loved you. Because, whether you knew it or not, you loved me. I knew being physical with you, kissing you and bringing you to my bed, was frowned upon. I saw the disapproval in everyone’s eyes when they looked at me. Not only because they were afraid I was…simple, but because they couldn’t accept my forwardness.’

Taking a breath, Claire raised her hand, placing it on Jamie’s chest just over his heart as she measured its pace. Thrumming beneath her fingers, she smiled through the pain, small trails of moisture falling from her eyes as she did so.

‘I just wanted you, all of you…and I would have done anything to make that happen. Come what may.’

“C’mere, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his words catching in his throat as he brought he towards his chest, curling her against him as he swayed from side to side.

Nuzzling his neck, Claire basked in his body heat, her hands clenched tightly in the material of his thick woolen coat.

“I’m yours, Claire. Just as ye are mine…and nobody will part us now, I promise ye that.” He muttered, making sure to pronounce his words clearly as he placed his mouth against her ear and spoke.

Pushing herself closer still, Claire nodded into his chest, her chin catching on the buttons with the motion.

“She says she loves ye, dafty that ye are,” Murtagh relayed, sarcasm lacing his tone as he continued, “but I think ye owe me a whisky fer all that, and afore ye ask, lad, I amne following ye home to enlighten ye further. I’m off to check on yon Dougal Mackenzie. See if the auld bastard has risen from his deep slumber.”

Chuckling, Jamie twisted his head to the side just in time to see Murtagh slink off back towards the castle. He really would have to make sure the man got a good bottle after all of his assistance.

Leaning her away just a little, Jamie tilted Claire’s chin up so that he could look her over.

“Shall I take ye home now, mo nighean? I think ye need a wee bit of rest, I’ll stay wi’ ye, I promise.”

Taking his hand, Claire kissed his fingers with a sort of languorous caress that lulled him into serenity as he stood in the paddock.

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

“Good,” he replied, his eyes lightening at the prospect, “because I wasna going to take ‘no’ fer an answer.”

things you said // nurseydex

a/n: took a break from my swawesome santa (also need a beta for that hmu if ur interested) to churn out some cheesy nurseydex. it……has been a rough few weeks. hope this makes some ppl smile. 6k, those Corny But Classic™ ‘things you said’ prompts.

things you said that surprised me

Don’t get Nursey wrong, he loves a good Kegster – sweaty, loud, beer spilling down the front of his shirt, the Haus practically pulsing with a mix off Holster’s iPod – but he thinks there may or may not be something to say for just hanging out in the living room with the guys, smoking weed or watching TV or just talking, piled on top of each other across the couch and happily enclosed in the trademark Haus Bubble.

It’s almost better than the rush he gets from crowdsurfing or dancing on the kitchen table, he thinks, digging his toes further beneath Dex’s legs. Dex pauses just to throw a halfhearted glare in his direction before taking a swallow of beer. 

Something at the bottom of Nursey’s stomach flutters, immediately followed by a silent, internal berating. Get it together, you weirdo.

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The Labyrinth Chapter 19

Genre: Gang AU/ High School AU
Pairing: Reader/Jimin
Length: 6.2k
Summary: Finding an injured boy collapsing in front of your house, you decide to help him, only to find out he’s associated with some underground business. After that fateful night, you surprisingly find him in the new class you had just transferred into.

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Originally posted by bts-we-are-bulletproof

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anonymous asked:

Hello! Can you do the Basorexia and Apodyopis prompts with Pietro Maximoff or Tony Stark please? Thank you in advance!

A/N: We couldn’t decide which to do so we did them both! I hope you enjoy!!

Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

Tony Stark x Reader

Although they may be a little over-extravagant, you actually enjoyed Tony’s parties - especially the annual New Year’s Eve ones. With everyone eager to wrap up the old year and start all over new, spirits seemed to naturally lift. Ladies dressed in their flashiest or classiest gowns, men sporting their custom fit suits; the energy in the tower was unbeatable.

After hours of laughing and dancing the night away with your friends and colleagues, everyone started to gather around the huge clock Tony had installed in the middle of the room to count down to the new year.

The guests started counting down from sixty seconds. As you stepped back and took a look around the floor, you saw couples stepping closer to each other, eager to share their first kiss of the new year with each other. You didn’t particularly have anyone special in your life - although that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone there tonight that you wanted to kiss. You spotted Tony over towards the left, closer to the clock, his eyes searching the room. You wanted desperately to walk over to him and confidently give him the best New Year’s kiss he’s ever experienced, but you weren’t that type. You were never the kind of person to take charge, you preferred to keep to yourself and just let things happen naturally.

Thirty seconds left and the room suddenly felt stuffy to you. With all of the shouting and the gathering of everyone and the realization that you had gone yet another year without being in a single romantic relationship, you found yourself heading towards the doors to the balcony, which was thankfully empty.

The cool night air enveloped you as you stepped out to the balcony. In a few strides you found yourself leaning your forearms against the glass divider, looking out over the city. The chants from inside grew louder as the countdown hit ten seconds. Pretty soon, fireworks would be seen over the skyline of the city, cheers will be heard from block to block throughout neighborhoods, greetings will be exchanged and smiles shared. New Years was truly one of the happiest celebrations.

Three… two… one… Happy New Year. It’s shouted and cheered and you couldn’t help but smile. As you predicted, fireworks began to decorate the sky in celebration of a new start. You watch the scene with a dreamy look in your eyes.

“You’ll catch a cold out here, you know.” An all too familiar voice brought you out of your trance. You spun around to see Tony standing at the doors, his hands in his pants pockets and a sly smile on his face.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, he started walking towards you, bowing his head. “I wondered where you were, I didn’t see you inside or anything. I was worried you had left.” He stopped in front of you and turned slightly towards the city, supporting himself against the glass.

“It got a little too crowded for me.” You admitted, shrugging a bit. Tony nodded, not taking his eyes off of you. “You missed the big New Year’s kiss.” He said nonchalantly. You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Nobody wants to kiss me.” You shook your head as if it was crazy that someone would have even had a thought about kissing you, but you felt a pang of sadness at the realization that it was true.

“What if I want to kiss you?” There was no hesitation in Tony’s response. Your head snapped up to look at him in surprise. Did he really just say what you think he said? Tony still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He was searching your face, looking for any kind of sign that you felt the same way as he did.

You weren’t sure what had sparked it - perhaps it was the way Tony’s soft, brown eyes were looking over you, or the fact that you had honestly been dreaming about a scenario like this with Tony for a very long time - but a wave of confidence washed over you, and you took a step closer to him.

The surprise on Tony’s face was evident, but he quickly tried to hide it. The sudden closeness between you two was electrifying. You felt yourself already leaning up on your toes. “Then kiss me.” You whispered.

Without missing a beat, Tony wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his eager lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet and honestly everything you had dreamed of. Bringing one hand to rest on his chest, you wrapped your other arm around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. You couldn’t think of a better way to start the New Year.

A/N: This got a little weird, sorry, the story went where it wanted to go, not my fault.

Apodyopsis – The act of mentally undressing someone.

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

She was so beautiful, it was driving him mad. He had never felt this way about anyone before, it was more than just a schoolyard crush, much more. Pietro was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, insatiable. But he never did anything about it, the pain of not being with her, dwarfed in comparison to the pain that would come if he lost her. If he acted on his feelings he would be risking their friendship. So he restrained himself, hoping that just being near her would be enough, but it wasn’t. He soon found himself craving her touch, caught himself memorizing the curve of her jaw, the slope of her nose, the smell of her shampoo. He was losing his mind. Every time she spoke, he could focus on nothing but her lips, how soft they looked, how they might feel against his.

Living in the same building was great at first, he got to see her every day, and could talk to her whenever he wanted. But after his feeling started to grow, he began to notice… things. Like how every morning she would come down in he pjs, which consisted of an oversized t-shirt that fell to her knees. Soon after, he began avoiding the kitchen all together, not being able to handle it. It was getting out of hand. He could hardly be in the same room as her anymore. Any time he closed his eyes, she was all he could think about. She made his heart beat fast, and his blood run hot.

One day, Steve called a team meeting, gathering everyone in the conference room. Pietro tried to pay attention to what was going on, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The dress you were wearing was modest, falling just above your knees while standing, the floral material matching well with your heels, the cut of the dress accenting your figure, while still remaining conservative. Despite this, when you took your seat, the dress rode up, showing your thigh. He couldn’t stop, he gripped the armrest of his chair, trying to focus on the papers Steve had handed out, but it was no good.

His eyes trailed up your body, wondering what it would be like to run his hands along it. As you shifted in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, his mind went wild, he pulled his lip between his teeth, trying once again to focus on what Steve was talking about. But once again, his mind began to wander. He wondered what it would feel like to be between those legs, to run his hands over them, to have them wrapped around him. His nails dug into the fabric of the armrest, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts like that. He closed his eyes trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of Steve’s voice dimmed, as he focused on his breathing.

What would it be like to take that dress off of you? Images flooded his mind, he could see himself leaning in close, wrapping his arms around you, slowly pulling the zipper of your dress down to the base of your back. The feeling of his hands gently pulling the material off of your shoulders, allowing it to fall, pooling at your feet. He could see your beautiful eyes, gazing up at him, sending chills down his spine, your hands flat on his chest as you stepped closer to him, his hands going to either side of your bare hips. His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your delicate hands tracing up his chest and around his shoulders, your body pressing closer to his. His hands slid slowly down your sides, tracing the curve of your waist, trying to memorize it, praying to god this would never end. He suppressed a moan at the feeling of your lips on his neck, peppering it with kisses. One of your legs drifted up his side to wrap around his hip, he quickly cupped the back of your knee, hoisting you up to wrap both legs around his waist, wanting to be even closer you your body. The fire under his skin grew hotter every soft kiss you placed on his jaw, he wanted more, needed more, he would burn up otherwise. His hands gripped your hips tightly, biting his lip roughly.

“(Y/N)” he moaned breathlessly, your lips hot on his skin, traveling up his jaw, the feeling of your breath fanning over his ear sending another wave of shivers down his spine.

“Pietro…” he heard your voice whisper in his ear. “Pietro…” you repeated, but this time louder. You pulled away and looked down at him, your brows drawn together, a confused look distorting your face. “Pietro wake up!” the voice that came from your mouth wasn’t yours, it was deeper, more manly. “I said wake up!” Pietro stared confused.

“Wha-” a hand came down across his cheek, and suddenly your face was replaced by Steve’s very angry one. Pietro nearly jumped out of his skin yelling loudly, looking around disoriented. Steve took a step back, his hands on his hips, the irritation in his eyes impossible to miss. Everyone was looking at him, trying to hide their amused laughs behind their hands.

“Nice of you to join us Pietro.” Steve said “You just let me know if I start boring you again.” he snarked crossing his arms over his chest. Pietro straightened in his seat, blushing in embarrassment.

“N-no sir, I just dozed off for a moment. It won’t happen again…” Steve only sighed and walked back to the front of the room continuing the meeting. Pietro tried to hide his embarrassment, sinking lower in his seat, hiding his face behind the papers in front of him. But his eyes once again shifted to you. You looked back at him and smiled gently, giving him a small wave before returning your attention to Steve. He would never survive.

Oneshot fic inspired by this amazing comic.

Comic by the amazing @disteal

The blizzard had come out of nowhere.

Sweeping over the horizon as McCree and Hanzo scrambled to find shelter in the wilderness outside of Eichenwalde. The scouting mission turning into survival. The two running through the forest, battered by wind and shards of ice. They had personal tents but they would be shredded by the beast barreling behind them.

They had minutes before a white out.

“Here!” Jesse grabbed his hand and yanked him to the side.

He snarled, snatching his hand back. “Your arm if freezing.” The cowboy’s prosthetic chillingly cold. His teeth were chattering as he followed anyway. The fur of his wolf pelt already collecting ice crystals.

The forest lashed around them, seeming to roar. They just needed cover, a wind break, anything except trying to stake a tent down and try to hold out. The tent they had been issued for their stealth mission not meant for more than a light flurry.

The thin bedrolls wouldn’t keep them alive.

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azarath-evo  asked:

BBRae Imagine person A of your OTP relentlessly flirting with B in public, just to see B blush.

I’m so sorry this took ~forever~. Hopefully it’s worth the wait!

Beast Boy had an uncanny knack for ulterior motives.  

He was devious, coy, and equally charming. How else could anyone have described the way in which he’d captured her attention so thoroughly? 

Nonetheless, when the offer had been made, it seemed innocent enough, even though Raven should have known better. 

She should have seen it coming.

“It’s just a small get-together,” he’d persisted at the time.

Beast Boy had been so nonchalant about the subject matter, that Raven had played right into his all too eager hands. 

He’d been mostly immersed in his video game, eyes the shade of evergreens glued to the televsion screen, unblinking. The words escaped his lips in a monotone whisper, almost like he was running on autopilot while his brain focused on the match.

So easy was his explanation that the empath made nothing of it, and thus, with a shrug of her shoulders and a brief nod of her head, Raven had resigned to her fate.

Except, what the changeling had neglected to mention was the nature of such a get-together. 

For example; perhaps a pertinent piece of information he’d conveniently left out, was the fact that it took place entirely poolside

As in, a pool.

As in, bathing suits and bikinis, and a lot of unexpected nudity. 

[this got long, so the rest is under the cut!]

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