Note: Another chapter for all my lovely followers! I am so glad that you are enjoying this. I am having so much fun writing it that I am not planning on ending it anytime soon. With all the muse I have for it at the moment too it won’t be long before another part is up for you to read! <3 Also if anyone would like to be added to my tag list for this story then message me and your wish will be my command! There’s plenty of room :D
Peter Pan/Killian Jones x Reader
As the hilt of the blade touches the palm of your hand you decide there and then that this boy really must have lost his mind…either that or he had some serious belief that you wouldn’t do such a thing to him. It hadn’t been your initial intention, the weapon was only there for protection should you need it, but now that he had put the idea into your mind it was certainly becoming a rather enticing thought. At least then you might have some chance of getting back to the ship.
“Why on earth would you allow me to kill you? Don’t demons have a knack for self-preservation?”
A dark look enveloped his eyes at your words. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been called a demon before, in fact he knew all too well who had used that specific description of him with you, but to hear it coming from someone like you only stirred up the simmering anger inside of him.
“Don’t call me that [y/n]. That scumbag of a pirate can for all I care but not you.”
He stalked closer to you and out of instinct your grip on the knife tightens in preparation.
It hit you once, like a ton of bricks, in the middle of your workout. A slight wheeze escaped you, your squat deepening past what you had been prepared to do, before you straightened. You finished the set, downed some painkillers, and moved on to your next task.
Again, you thought balefully, as you dodged a dart. Your hair smoldered before the smoke was extinguished. You wondered if four hours had passed yet.
Dinner left you with no appetite—how were you supposed to eat when your stomach was churning and your gut was dead set on stabbing itself? You poked and prodded at your potatoes before excusing yourself. Your teammates gave your back lingering stares. You ignored the murmurs.
You’d dimmed the lights in your room to a low, soft glow that was easy on the eyes. Your shower, although successful in washing away most of the day’s stresses, did nothing for your back or stomach. Your painkillers weren’t quite cutting it.
As you laid back, eyes tracing imaginary figures on the ceiling, a pillow between your legs, behind your back, the door creaked open softly. Baby blue eyes, clouded with concern, traced your figure. “Hey,” came your favorite voice.
“Hey yourself,” you replied fluidly. The door creaked again as it slid closed. “What brings you here, Steve?” Your captain gave a troubled smile.
“Well,” he said quietly. “I could name a few things.” You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t eat dinner—and you’ve looked pretty, I dunno—” You waited as Steve collected his thoughts. “You looked uncomfortable? Like you pulled something, and you’ve been pretty grumpy all day.” Your temper threatened to flare, but you battered it down with deep breaths. Steve wasn’t wrong, per se.
“Yeah,” you said. “I’m not really hungry.” Steve made his way over toward your bed, sinking down onto it, bedsprings groaning in protest.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked. “Do you want to talk about it?” You pursed your lips for a moment.
“Cramps.” Steve blinked.
“What?” You cheeks flushed, darkening in the low light.
“Cramps,” you repeated. “I’m having cramps.” Steve paused. “You know, muscle con—”
“I think I know what cramps are,” Steve said smoothly. He remained quiet for a minute. “Lay on your stomach.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but did as he said. “I’m gonna lift your shirt up. Is that okay?” You paused before nodding. Large hands exposed the warm skin of your lower back to cooler air.
“Steve, what are you doin—” Your voice fell into a low groan as firm fingers pressed into the muscle along your spine. A gasp escaped you. Steve’s fingers and palms masterfully attempted to manipulate your muscles, pressing in just the right spots to encourage the tense fibers to release.
Honestly, you thought, this was probably the best thing that had happened to you all day. All week, maybe. Perhaps even all month. “Am I doing okay?” In your voiceless bliss, you merely nodded. Steve smiled slowly.
Upon occasion, his fingers would begin to glide toward the front of your torso, realizing that the ache in your back had been mostly soothed, but your stomach remained a problem. You allowed him to flip you over carefully.
“Whatcha doin’ now?” you asked, watching Steve’s hands settle onto the soft skin of your stomach. Blue eyes glittered warmly at you.
“Well, your stomach hurts, too, right?” You nodded. “So let’s see if I can make it feel any better.” Your lips quirked to one side. A slight adjustment of your hips, and you gave the super soldier an affirming nod.
“Go for it.” Steve didn’t need any further suggestion. His hands kneaded your stomach carefully, searching for segments that were tighter, harder than the rest, and slowly rubbed the tension away with even, slow, gentle pressure. You closed your eyes.
Steve’s hands were rough—his palms and fingers had callouses from all the fights he’d been in, but you found them to be comforting. As you mapped the progress of his hands, you remained oblivious to the soft look that crossed over Steve’s face. He watched your expressions for any sign of discomfort, any desire for him to stop, to leave, but found none. The scowl that had burdened your features earlier had melted away.
He didn’t notice it right away. His hands were still searching, seeking, desiring to eliminate that which pained you. Your slow, even breaths, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, no longer gave any indication of discomfort. Your muscles had all relaxed, fallen into a cloud of sleep and remained there. Steve drew away as he noted you no longer responded to his touch. A slow smile crossed his face again.
Steve stood, adjusting his clothes before gingerly replacing your shirt, and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Night,” he said quietly. He let himself out, silently. There was some work to be done before he could return to your side again.
(Just fill this is with any guy your little heart desires that why i added in a lot of tags. this will be kind of smutty. Today I’m all about robbie kay lol…..no forreal No im fucking serious that boy can get it and bust it wide open on my living room couch if he wanted to))
It was amazing how I could manage to wake up before him. it was usually always him waking me up. I gazed over at his sleeping body. My eye grazed over his shirtless body. He chest moved up and down ever so slightly. I slowly and quietly got out of my spot on the bed and lifted myself so I was sitting on his groin. I figured I should wake him up with a bit of fun before he had to wake up. I rocked my body back and forth and ground against him. I felt him grow against me and heard him moan a little.
“Well this is a nice way to wake up” He groaned, looking up at me.
“Why good morning there” I giggled, stilled moving my hips.
“mmm this early. I must’ve been good this week” He laughed. I reached down and planted a kiss on the side of his mouth.
“Its just my version of a wake up call.” I smiled. I ran my hands up his shirtless chest. He perched himself on his elbows. Without warning he spun me around and pinned me down.
“My turn” he chuckled, grinding his hard on against me. I moaned a but loudly.
“Just lay back and let me down the work” he assured,yanking down my under garments (panties is the weirdest word ever). He gently ran his fingers up my slit, causing me to shiver. He bent his head down and followed his finger movement with his tongue, teasing my sensitive bud. His fingers slithered inside me and he bit down gently on my clit.
“Holy shi….fuck” I whimpered. His speed picked up gradually. I felt his vibrations against me, sending me higher up. Before I could unwind, he stopped abruptly.
“You little shit” I choked out, causing him to chuckle.
“Of, so its war you want…then it is war you shall receive!”I challeged, shaking my finger in his face.
Then again…..this was normal…every freakin week at least
(yeah, I can’t sleep….hope this didn’t suck too much)
Meet Team Canada: Elsabeth Black, Shallon Olsen, Isabela Onyshko, Brittany Rogers, and Rose-Kaying Woo. The Canadian Women’s Artistic Gymnastics team made history at the London 2012 Olympics where they qualified to the Women’s Team Final for the first time, finishing in 5th place.
Imagine Bucky deals with a lot of hypervigilance, so he has to sleep with someone nearby so they can keep watch otherwise it's not safe.
At first, it’s Steve’s job to keep watch, but the job takes a lot out of him, and soon the pair start looking for alternatives. They recruit Natasha to take shifts, because she understands the feeling of hypervigilance, and at first Bucky is more able to sleep with Steve there than with her, but they talk together, and when she confides in him that she slept with the handcuffs from the Red Room for years after she joined S.H.I.E.L.D., he feels better about where they stand.
But even with two people to watch out for him, this routine isn’t sustainable forever. With Bucky’s permission, Steve reaches out to Sam, asks him if he knows any veterans who have had similar problems, and Sam comes up with a solution none of them had managed to think of before: a watch dog. It’s not a therapy dog, not exactly, but the presence of man’s best friend does a lot to help a lot of veterans. And well, Bucky does like dogs. Natasha volunteers to find him the perfect fit, and he knows her well enough to trust her judgment by now.
She comes home with a Belgian Malinois named Laika and explains that she was trained to work with Navy SEALs, but Natasha pulled a few strings and got her for Bucky. She explains that Laika is going to need a lot of exercise, socialization, and a job to do, in addition to guarding Bucky at night, and that she thinks that the extra work will be good for him, give him something to focus on. And yes, Bucky is concerned about having to go outside to walk her every day, but her nose and damp and warm against his hand when she nudges it into him, and he thinks that maybe this will give him a good enough reason to get out of bed every day.
He always did have a strong caring instinct towards the people (and now dogs, he supposed) in his life.
The first night he falls asleep with her sitting at the foot of his bed is the best night of sleep he’s gotten in weeks.