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swtki · 25 days

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Things you can write instead of the 'Y/N wears someone's tee shirt and it's sooo big on her' trope aka ways to avoid fatphobia in your fanfics.

So - this is a discussion I have had on my blog many, many times before. (Not just on this blog, but also on my previous blogs.)

But in general the 'Y/N wearing skinny canon character's shirt' trope (especially if that shirt is described as being 'oversized' on the reader character) - it's a big yikes from me. And it can turn off a lot of potential readers. And in general, it's not very friendly to plus-sized people in the fandom. It is fatphobic, because it automatically describes the reader character's body type as being super petite at worst, and at the very best - they are thin, because stereotypically, most of the popular love interests that we write for are also thin.

So how can you avoid this trope?

Well typically, this trope is used to show intimacy in a relationship. Whether it is used to show FWB upgrading to something more, or used to show comfort and intimacy in a long-standing relationship, usually wearing a love interest's clothing means the same things - comfort, familiarity, and relaxation around this person. Being comfortable enough to share things like their clothing, especially without asking.

So, here are some ways to show intimacy in a relationship without using this tired trope:

Have the characters share clothing or accessories that don't have a set size. Something that is truly 'one size fits all'. This same trope can be done in a size inclusive way using something like a scarf, or a hat, or even jewellery like a necklace - this could work especially well if the character has some kind of signature hat or something that they are known for, and they want their lover to wear it. Personally I think wearing someone's scarf to keep you warm during the winter months is a deep form of intimacy.

Reverse the trope. Have the canon character wear something that belongs to the reader character. It is very size inclusive to say that the canon character is wearing the reader's tee shirt or sweatshirt and it is oversized on them - the reader could be thin and simply buy very large shirts for themselves because they like a big fit, or the reader could be plus-sized and their clothing fits baggy on their lover. It works well in my opinion.

Have one of the characters cook for the other. This is a very easy way to show intimacy - if you want to show their relationship upgrading as more serious in your story, especially if you're going for them upgrading from FWB to more serious lovers, then having one of them cook breakfast for the other after sleeping over is a great way to show that they are getting more emotionally serious about the relationship. Also, in a long-standing relationship, cooking someone's favourite meal is a great, quiet way to show that you know them well and that you care.

Have the characters exchange a key to their home or apartment. There are a lot of steps between declaring a relationship official and marriage, and this is a good one to show your characters participating in. Especially if you want to show them slowly upgrading their intimacy. Or show in your story that they already have a key to their love interest's apartment to show that kind of familiarity and ease in the relationship.

Have the characters use the bathroom together. So many people default to shower sex - but that is not at all practical irl and not something a lot of people actually do. If you want to show real intimacy, show your characters showering together in a non-sexual manner, or show one of them brushing their teeth at the sink while the other is in the shower and show them casually having a conversation while they do it - show that casual nudity means nothing to them, and their routine is always shared. This is a great way to show that familiarity and comfort in a relationship.

Have the characters wear each other's perfume/scent. This is like a size inclusive, non-visual version of the tee shirt trope - having the reader character wearing your love interest's cologne or even their signature scent in the form of a body wash (again, the bathroom thing - if they used the same bath products, then they will smell the same) - have the people around them recognise that they are in a serious, comfortable, long term relationship because they now smell the same. Like an unconscious claiming of the person you love, them always being with you, floating in the air around you.

Idk, this is just a few. But I think there's lots of ways to avoid the trope in fics

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swtki · 25 days

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Shout out to the autistic girlies 🫡 we out here

a lack of caffeine — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: caffeine makes the world go 'round. that's something you and spencer can agree on.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. swearing. i really fucking struggled with this it's so boring. thank you to everyone who requested a part 2!

─── word count: 1.8k.

The call comes in at four in the morning.

The screen reads three missed calls by the time its incessant buzzing rouses you from your slumber, and you pull it out from beneath your pillow. Squinting at the sudden brightness of it, an unlisted number stares back at you as your phone keeps vibrating insistently in your grip.

When you finally wake up enough to realise it could be work, you answer it. Agent Hotchner's familiar voice is stern and low and only a little apologetic as he informs you that you're going to be required in the field for a new case, and you should be at the airfield within the hour.

There isn't enough time to ask any questions before the line clicks, and you're left blinking into the dim light of your bedroom as you try to gather your bearings.

Sleep itches at the corners of your eyes, all gritty and blurry, and though part of your mind recalls reading this little clause in the contract you’d signed, that constant availability takes on a whole new meaning when you work for the BAU, you still take a moment to fantasise about pushing Aaron Hotchner off a cliff.

You’re not a morning person. And you would argue that 4AM isn’t even the morning, it’s the middle of the night, and why can’t serial killers do their business during normal business hours?

A new case. Not your first case since joining the unit as their resident independent medical examiner, but the first where you would join the rest of the team in the field. The first where you'll be required to exert federal authority over county coroners, where you'll have to step on toes in order to get the job done.

You know they won't take too well to an outsider coming in and derailing their whole thing. You know you wouldn't. You used to be one of them, not that long ago.

Ah, shit. As the drowsiness begins to fade out of your body, a light panic trickles in. Your skin starts to buzz as if you put your finger into a live socket. You grip your phone so hard it leaves a mark on your palm.

It takes ten minutes to get ready, stumbling around your room and shoving clothes into a bag. You don't really care about matching socks, but you count out your underwear three times and hope you won't run out before the case is done. Do they have laundries you'll be able to use? Have the other members of the BAU ever encountered this problem? Should you pack your hair straightener or is it really going to matter?

When you've finally dragged a brush through your hair and dumped the last of your toiletries into a ziploc bag, a dull realisation strikes you.

Jackie.

Going toe-to-toe with a rabid raccoon might be more appealing than waking up your sister-in-law in the middle of the night, but you don't really have much choice. She has to know what's going on, she'll be in charge of your daughter for however long you'll be gone, and leaving a note on the kitchen counter feels like the wrong move to make in this instance.

Is there a protocol for this? A single-parent handbook you can check out at the library? This is something you really should've talked about when you got the job, you know that. You'd known it would require you to travel on occasion, often without prior notice, but it hadn't seemed like a big deal at the time. You'd brushed it under the rug, labelled it to be discussed later as if you and Jackie have ever actually sat down and done that.

A thousand things sit unsaid between you. That rug has got a little mountain under it by now, almost impossible to ignore. It’s really only a matter of time before you trip over it.

“Jackie. Jackie.”

Your sister-in-law grumbles when you sneak into her room and poke her, hard and repeatedly, until she threatens to bite you. The news of your leaving doesn't take her by surprise — exhaustion seems to dull the stung of it — and she promises to call twice a day, every day, before she buries her face back into the pillow and starts to snore like a lawnmower.

You hope she never, ever changes.

Pressing a kiss to your sleeping daughter's forehead is the last thing you do before you finally manage to drag yourself out of the apartment. A dull ache thuds in your chest, where your heart should be. She'd looked so peaceful, so sweet, and you can't recall a time since she was born that you'd been apart from her for longer than a day. Her bright, happy giggle and wide eyes flash through your mind.

As your car peels out of the parking garage, you feel distinctly like a piece of laundry someone hung out to dry and then forgot about.

The sun is just beginning to kiss the horizon as you pull up to the airfield. Long streaks of a pink-fingered dawn creep across the sky. You flash your identification at the security guard and pull up alongside the jet, scrambling to grab your bag from the passenger seat.

It doesn't surprise you that you're the last to arrive, but you'd hoped that wouldn't be the case.

The clock just strikes 5AM as you clatter up the steps, practically falling into the aircraft. Technically, you're on time, but it still feels like you're late for class and your teacher is about to put it on your permanent record. A kind-faced hostess greets you, offers to stow your bag, and you flash her a sheepish smile as you hand it over and pass through the curtains into the main cabin.

"Holy shit."

You can't help yourself. Every single member of the team turns to look at you, craning their necks to see exactly who they're dealing with, but you can't even bring yourself to care. "This is a jet. It's actually... a jet."

You blink at the open space as your jaw goes a little slack. Do you sound a little insane? Sure, and ordinarily you'd feel self-conscious with several pairs of unfamiliar eyes gawking at you, analysing your every movement as if it's their job to do so — and it actually is — but this honestly insane.

You had no idea the BAU had this kind of budget. Do they own the plane? Do they rent it? Is it publically funded by the taxpayer, and why can't they fly commercial? Like, you're not complaining at all, those leather seats look so comfortable, but why—?

An austere voice says your name once, twice, and you blink, looking up to find the furrowed brow of your boss frowning at you down the aisle.

"Take a seat, doctor, we're about to take off."

His tone leaves no room for argument. A flush rises in your cheeks, and you manage to stammer out an apology before throwing yourself into the nearest available seat, buckling your seatbelt.

"It's a good thing you're the M.E and not a profiler, sweetcheeks." One of the agents nearest to you leans across the aisle. A charming grin spreads over his face as he offers up his hand in greeting. "Derek Morgan."

"Oh, I know," you reply, shaking his hand firmly. "I, uh, looked you guys up after Dr. Reid paid a visit to the underworld and I didn't recognise him. Figured I should be a little more familiar with the other members of my team."

"The underworld?" A blonde woman you realise must be Agent Jareau gives you a friendly, if slightly confused, smile.

You shrug, suddenly a little embarrassed. Group settings have never been your thing. Too many people, too many unfamiliar eyes, far too many voices clashing together until it all becomes a sensory nightmare.

You much prefer your little lab, and one-on-one conversations, usually with the unlucky cadavers that find themselves on your slab. They never talk back.

"It's just what I call the morgue," you tell her. A loose bit of skin hangs off the edge of your nail, and you really, really want to pick at it. Fatigue hovers at the edge of your consciousness, and as the plane engines begin to roar, you find yourself wishing you’d made a coffee before leaving the apartment.

You would have been late, for sure, but life would feel worth living so, y’know. Swings and roundabouts.

"In Greek mythology, the underworld is where an individual goes after death. Early ideas suggest that someone’s essence, their psyche, is separated from their corpse at the point of death and transported to the underworld. Accounts differ on whether any judgement occurs, depending on which scholarship you’re citing." A familiar voice pipes up from the back of the plane and you glance over. The rich brown eyes looking back fill you with an odd warmth.

More at ease with a familiar face, you settle back in your seat and lift your hand in a lazy wave. "Good morning, Dr Reid. It's nice to see you when I'm not elbow-deep in someone's intestines."

Agent Jareau wrinkles her nose. "Now I'm really glad I didn't have time for breakfast."

Reid's ears turn bright pink and he looks away, stuttering out his reply. "It's good to see you too. Uh, well, not good, given the circumstances, since there's a serial killer on the loose, but good because—"

"We get the picture, Reid," Agent Hotchner cuts him off, and Reid turns his gaze back to the small window, a little flustered. Hotch looks, bizarrely, like he's trying not to smile. "Welcome to the team. We'll go over the case details once we're in the air."

“Is there coffee in the air?” There might be a murder mid-flight otherwise. Really, how do they function at this time in the morning? The plane judders as it rolls over the tarmac, heading for the runway. “Or tea, or soda, or— Honestly, I’ll take whatever. I just don’t want to fall asleep in a body cavity later on.”

Again.

Reid finds himself nodding, entirely against his will. There’s something about the peculiar medical examiner, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it makes him want to keep talking. More than usual, at least.

He wonders if there’s duct tape on board. Or a parachute.

“There’s coffee,” he confirms. Is his voice a little high?

“Dr. Reid, I could kiss you—”

Oh, hell. Judging by the way Morgan has a hand pressed to his mouth, stifling an obscenely loud chuckle, Reid suspects he’s never going to hear the end of this.

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swtki · 2 months

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18+ only! eddie munson x fem!reader x jonathan byers cw: threesome, oral f + m receiving, unprotected piv, creampie

floating. you feel like you’re floating; levitating off of the bed with the pleasure being brought to you. an orgasmic exorcism of sorts.

your skin feels hot, burning beneath each press of jonathan’s lips to your chest. his teeth bite at your peaked nipples and the sensation courses through your body all the way down to your toes, which curl at the way eddie plunges three fingers deep inside of your aching core. his mouth is trained on your clit, tongue flicking over it repeatedly as you whine — shrill and pretty for them both.

jonathan can’t help but steal glances at the way eddie eats your pussy, groaning as he resumes sucking on your soft and sensitive tits. “so fucking pretty, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue swirling around one of your nipples as his fingers play with the other. “is eddie making you feel good?”

“yeah, oh god yeah,” you moan, nodding your head enthusiastically. “you’re both makin’ me feel so good,” you pant, meeting jonathan’s eyes and earning a satisfied smirk from him.

“she’s fucking soaked, byers,” eddie says, pulling his mouth away from your cunt. “why don’t you come down here and get yourself a taste?” the shaggy-haired man grins, a wicked thing, his eyes playful as they look at you.

the encouragement from eddie makes jonathan light up; always a little less confident than the older man. he eagerly scoots down on the mattress, kissing down your tummy until he reaches the place you crave him most. eddie’s fingers continue to curl inside of you as he lays beside you, leaning in for a hot and sloppy kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes you delirious as you continue to let them please you.

jonathan’s lips suction around your clit, your hips bucking up into his mouth. every once in a while, his tongue brushes against eddie’s fingers, until eddie suddenly pulls them out of your dripping core.

“here, lick ‘em clean,” he rasps down at jonathan, holding his fingers an inch from the other man’s face.

jonathan accepts them, opening his mouth and letting his tongue clean your honey from eddie’s thick fingers. his pretty brown eyes are trained on you the whole time, and eddie lets out a low groan beside you.

you whine without the stimulation from either of them, making eddie tsk in your direction.

“what do you need, sweet girl? feeling neglected now?” he pities you, finding your neediness amusing.

“need more,” you emphasize, looking back and forth between both of them.

“why don’t you suck my cock while jon fucks you, hm? would you like that?” eddie asks, directing the second question both to you and the man between your legs.

jonathan’s nodding eagerly, impossibly hard in his boxers and begging to be touched. you’re on board just as quickly, mewling out a small “yes, please.”

and then you’re planted on your hands and knees on the rumpled sheets, eddie’s cock pressing to the back of your throat as jonathan fills your cunt with every inch he has. you look up into eddie’s deep brown eyes, tears springing into your own as you gag around his thick shaft. you can feel jonathan’s hands digging into your hips, holding you firmly in place so he can fuck you the way he wants to.

it’s primal, the way he drives into you over and over, curses and praises tumbling from his lips.

“god, you’re so fucking tight, holy shit,” he whimpers, voice strangled as if he’s already ready to blow his load.

“you’re such a good girl,” eddie says, voice low and gravelly. “take our cocks so well,” he praises, hand entwining in your hair and tugging.

you moan around him, spit dribbling out of the corners of your mouth as you bob your head back and forth.

“and so messy, sweetheart,” eddie coos, bringing a finger down to wipe the saliva from your chin. “making such a mess of me.”

he loves to talk in bed, always the one with more to say, and his words only make you and jonathan more turned on.

“she’s — fuck — she’s making a mess of me, too,” jonathan adds, drawing his cock out of you slowly as he watches. he’s coated in your slick, slippery wet sounds coming from the friction his movements create.

eddie’s head tips back, eyes closed as a low moan rumbles from deep within his chest. it’s too much; watching and feeling your mouth around his cock at the same time he gets to watch jonathan slowly unravel while seven inches deep within you. he’s close, and he knows he’s not alone in that.

as if on cue, jonathan reaches one hand beneath you to play with your clit, making you moan around eddie’s impressive girth. the vibrations from your mouth make him hiss, his hand tangling tighter in your hair.

you’re losing focus on the task in front of you, tongue growing sloppier in the way it swirls around eddie’s cock; you’re simply too lost in the pleasure you’re being provided with. eddie takes the reins a little, thrusting into your mouth and making you choke on him. your eyes are watery and wide when they meet his, you truly look a fucked-out mess, and it’s enough to send him hurtling even closer to release.

“need you to cum, pretty girl. you gonna cum? gonna make such a pretty mess of jonathan’s cock?” eddie asks, voice strained as he tries to keep his own composure.

you nod, unable to speak with your mouth full, air leaving your nose in heavy spurts as jonathan’s thrusts grow more desperate. before you can even speak, you’re clenching hard around his cock, orgasm ripping through you. your release triggers jonathan’s, filling you to the brim with warm ropes of his cum as he whimpers your name over and over behind you.

“oh, fuck,” eddie groans, one final thrust to your mouth before he’s spilling, too. you suck him completely dry, every drop spilling down your throat save for the bit that dribbles out the corners of your mouth.

both men are quick to move in for a kiss, jonathan’s mouth eagerly cleaning eddie’s cum that drips down to your chin before they’re both battling to kiss your lips. it’s messy and lazy the way each of their tongues lick into your open mouth, their hands easing you down into a comfortable position on the mattress so you can rest.

every inch of your skin is caressed between the two of them, lulling you into a sleepy and content daze as they share soft kisses where they sit behind you. you can hear them whispering sweet things to each other, but you’re too tired to process the words. drifting into a peaceful sleep, you’re confident that when you wake they’ll be itching to please you again.

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swtki · 2 months

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𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

college! peter parker x fem reader.

18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.

peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.

Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.

As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.

Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.

It was as if he did this purely for himself.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.

Peter liked hearing you.

Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.

His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.

The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.

Just…reflecting.

Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.

“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.

Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.

He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.

“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.

He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.

The two bled into each other.

His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.

You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.

Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it.

“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”

Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.

You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.

You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.

“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”

You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?

Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.

Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”

You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.

He was far too pretty to stay quiet.

The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.

Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.

Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.

He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.

“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.

“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”

Peter had never moved so fast in his life.

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swtki · 2 months

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Phone Calls

Description: Based on this ask/discussion from @prettyvintageafternoon

Warnings: phone sex, mutual masturbation

Word Count: 0.7k

She had been dozing off and on throughout the night. She never slept well without him and she wasn't thinking about her husband. No, never her husband but rather her companionship with Bruce Wayne. Should she be sleeping around with Bruce Wayne? Probably not, but he understood her, he listened to her. He touched her in ways that her husband never could have dreamed of reaching.

"Bruce? Is everything alright?" She answered her cell phone with slight worry. The time on her clock read 2:34 am and she knew they both should be asleep at this hour.

"I know I'm not supposed to call this late," His voice sounded out of breath and she could hear some slight ruffling going on in the background.

"It's fine, he's on a business trip in Greece," She sighed. Her husband never really cared to occupy the same space as her unless the kids were involved.

"You're in bed? Alone?" He damn near groaned at the realization. If he had known she was alone, he would've been there with her.

"Mhm. It's a shame you're not here. It's just me and this silk nightie because my kids are with their grandma," She spoke honestly.

"You're making it hard for me not to drive over there right now," Bruce admitted quietly,

"Why'd you call, Bruce?" She whispered. It's not that she didn't enjoy their conversations but this was cutting into her beauty sleep.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you and it's gotten me in a predicament," His voice had deepened with something that Y/N couldn't quite place. He was yearning for something from her.

"What kind of a predicament?" She wondered aloud.

"The kind that has my hand stroking my dick while listening to you talk," He spoke nonchalantly and the dots began to connect for Y/N. The lack of breath and ruffling was him jacking off to her.

"Oh, then you should know that I was lying about the nightie. I'm wearing your old Gotham U shirt." She admitted. It still vaguely smelled like him and it matched her bonnet perfectly.

"Y/N," It sounded like a warning but he knew better than any man that she didn't take too well to warnings.

"I thought about you earlier too. I had to get my vibrator and it almost wasn't enough," She thought just a few hours ago when she was in her bathtub with her vibrator and she contemplated calling Bruce, right then. had she known that he was just as needy as her, she would've.

"Damnit," He groaned.

"You close, Bruce?" Her voice was more seductive than before and her hand slipped between her thighs. She hadn't planned on getting off but since the opportunity presented itself, why not have some fun?

"If you were here, I'd probably be on top with my legs around your waist," She spoke with her fingers circling her clit. She swore it was like Bruce was next to her, watching her.

"I can almost feel your hands around my waist, helping me take your big cock," She heard Bruce's breath hitch and just a barely audible whimper came through the phone. She liked having this power over him. It was like a high and she needed more.

"You gonna cum? Cum all over your hand for me, Bruce," She brought herself to an orgasm at the same time he did. She heard the sheets ruffling on the other side of the call along with some footsteps.

"How long is he out of town for?" He spoke again but this time with water running in the background and Y/N simply assumed that he was in a bathroom now.

"Until next week," She didn't care about him right now, not when Bruce had made her feel more special in this arrangement than her husband did in their entire marriage.

"Brunch tomorrow?" He asked, politely as if he didn't just jack off to her voice.

"As long as you pick me up," She snorted slightly as she rolled over to fall asleep.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," He mused. He could hear the sleepiness in her voice and almost felt bad for waking her at this hour.

"Goodnight Bruce," She whispered.

"Goodnight, Y/N," He whispered back.

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swtki · 8 months

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WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS (5.06) URGENT CARE THE LAST OF US (1.09) LOOK FOR THE LIGHT

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swtki · 8 months

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swtki · 10 months

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Heirs [Asgard!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki starts your marriage by breaking tradition. Naturally. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Fluff & Smut. Oral. Asgardian HC Lore. Language. Loki POV. (w/c 1.9k)

Loki’s eyes followed the ripples your palms made over the water. Over the curve of your back. The delicate line of your spine. Steam rose in a mist, braiding upwards in the amber glow of sunset through the arched windows.

Sodden rose petals clung delicately to your waist, peppered sporadically on your skin like clean wounds. Beautiful, he thought, letting his robe fall with a rustle around his ankles to the ancient stone of the palace baths.

He smirked as you turned with a splash, instinctually covering your breasts before breaking into a smile. “Husband,” you giggled in greeting. It was the first time you had said it.

The word made him shiver, despite the heat thumping between his legs.

Loki enjoyed the slow crawl of your eyes up his body. You took in every inch of his long legs with the unrestrained hunger of a horny stable-hand, thumbs beginning to subconsciously massage your nipples. There was a flicker of pink as your tongue flashed over your lips, gaze lingering on his cock heavy set between tensed thighs. All yours, my love.

The water was perfectly warm. Hot – but not overly so. Carefully controlled thermal springs which ran into the palace saw to that. With each step into the stilling pool he took, you took a step back.

Even now wed, still ever the tease. Loki’s lips stretched in a mischievous smile, matching your own.

Heat kissed his knees, then his thighs, then his hips– dipping backwards to wet his hair in the perfumed baths. He could feel the weight sink into the tight weaves of his ceremonial braids, wound from his temples, the ends sinking down between floating strands of black. He rose up, rivulets running from his temples down to the nook of his collarbone. The Prince let out a small groan as you reclined on the steps by the side of the pool, only the curve of your mounds visible above gently lapping water. Beautiful.

You bit your lip, resting your elbows on the side. Waiting.

“I might even apologise for interrupting but I believe that would not be the most auspicious start to our marriage,” he coyed, before stopping directly in front of you.

He could feel the cool of your breath against his skin, wafting in teasing waves over the fat tip of his cock protruding from the water. “There will be plenty of time for lies, I'm sure,” you replied with a knowing smile, neck craning up.

Loki shivered again as your lips melded against his stomach, thumbs pressing into his obliques while your fingers curled around his trunk. He could feel droplets roll between his shoulder-blades as his neck tilted back. The feeling of your fingers wrapping around his base of his cock, the gentle suck of your mouth on the thick, swollen head threatening to make his knees buckle. How long he had waited for this. How long you had both waited for this.

“Stop,” he gasped, just as you primed to swallow him whole. Loki would never forget the way your eyes shone with innocent confusion. He looked forward to seeing that moment reflected in your beautiful gaze many times in the coming years. The god bent down, capturing your lips with a messy kiss while he slid beside you on the stone seat concealed beneath the surface.

“Do you know," he began, pausing to brush a thumb over your lips, "that the royal men of Asgard are forbidden from pleasuring their wives with their mouths?” His eyes searching yours, nerves fluttering in his belly. “I have heard it said,” you hummed, curling a thick ebony strand of Loki’s wet hair around your finger. “But it never made sense to me.”

Loki chuckled, leaning forwards to suck gently against your neck.

His tongue would never sate from the taste of your skin. Never. He let out a rasping moan in your ear, one of his hands sliding between your open thighs beneath the water.

The tips of his fingers grazed the plump folds he found, the arch of your back against the terracotta making his shaft twitch against his stomach. “You see, if my tongue is buried between your thighs, wife, it is not my cock.”

“Heirs?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Heirs.” Loki smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully as his finger trailed lazily down your inner thigh, dragging softly over your knee.

“The most beautiful sounds a woman can make are thus,” he postured casually, leaning one elbow on the side with a fist beneath his temple. Your palms slid teasingly over his stomach, inching further with each time-wasting word. “Firstly, the primal grunt as her blade pierces the flesh of her enemy. And second...”

Loki paused to follow the descent of a particularly fliratatious droplet down the curve of your neck with one long finger, “the shameless groan in her throat as she cums into the mouth of her lover.”

“Is that so?” you said, sliding your hands up over his shoulders. Oil swirling within the heat of the baths made them soft and slick, the lady’s delicate grip against ropes of ferocious muscle making him weaken. Loki felt his brows slant. “You do not believe me?” he murmured incredulously.

The laugh that chimed from your throat made his heart swell.

“My Lord, I am innocent of such things as you well know,” you said, a sarcastic smirk tugging your lips. Loki tutted, playing the game. “I have fought beside you many times, wife. I know that you keep the highest count of men slain by a woman’s hand.”

You nodded thoughtfully, before your head tilted to the side. “I meant the other thing,” you whispered, pressing your lips together. Loki cupped your cheeks as your stare focused on the narrow valley of lapping water between your bodies. He frowned. "Truly?" You nodded. He could feel your cheeks warm beneath his touch. How can it be that a man has never pleasured her so, he thought.

“Then let me show you how black of a steed I truly am in this family of mine,” he heard himself mutter, seeing your chest begin to heave with quickening breaths. “Of all our inane traditions, that is by far the most loathsome.”

The nervous laugh that escaped you bounced to every vault in the high ceilings, sinking through the cross-breeze from the open arches.

“More so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed?” you giggled, biting your lip again. Loki nodded, a smile curling one side of his mouth. “The Ceremony is a farce, but this…?” his hands found the curve of your waist beneath the water, lifting you effortlessly to the final step before the bath’s edge. “The waste of my wife’s pleasure from my talents would be unforgivable.”

Water lapped gently at your hipbones while Loki carefully placed your calves over his shoulders. He turned his cheek, placing three kisses gently on wet skin. “Besides, was it not the Ceremony which set our path in motion?” he murmured, before grazing his teeth over your ankle. Your hips bucked upwards, a splash. “At least we may be thankful for that.”

Loki watched in awe as your body leant back against the smooth terracotta ledge, the clear bathwater making rivers and brooks through the creases of your hips. The way your curves stretched and moulded to the stone, fat streaks of water languishing down your supple, oiled skin.

He spread his knees against the bottom step, sinking down. His stomach flipped as your breath hitched, desire roaring behind a demure moan. Your glistening pussy was being lapped by the sway of water, swollen lips revealed and hidden with the graceful tide. Loki hoisted your thighs, positioning you perfectly.

“You know, technically, this is treason against the crown,” he purred teasingly, working sucking kisses up the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He felt them tremble around his neck.

“Husband, please,” you gasped, letting your head drop back. The wet of your hair slopped against the warm stone floor. Loki smirked against your skin, feeling a long breath leave your lungs as his palms lightly gripped your waist. “Very well, Princess-” he smiled.

Loki let his eyes drink in the sight for as long as physics would allow before his lips formed a soft latch to your centre. He stilled, letting you buck into his mouth with a shudder. The warmth of the bathwater lapped at his jaw, liquid silk mingling his tongue with your sex. And like a tame beast, he began a flat ascent up your slit.

The subsequent rattling, gasping cry from your body would never leave him. Surprise, relief, pleasure, freedom – it was all contained in that wordless pitch wavering amongst the bathhouse steam.

He let his tongue curve the softness of your womanhood, hands roaming further up your waist. The curvaceous weight of your breasts cupped in his hands made his cock ache. A vision of sinking himself inside you flashed through his mind, rolling and wrapping in once-pristine matrimonial bedsheets. With every rock of your hips, that delicate pussy crept further from the surface before retreating; never fully submerged but always caressed by the touch of water.

Loki felt your hands slide over his temples, fingers that did not know what to do with themselves playing at his intricate ceremonial braids.

It was tradition for the bride to undo the braiding on the wedding night while her husband rested, utterly spent of course. Of course, Loki thought; as the flat of his tongue pressed against your clit. Your back arched from his palms, an ambrosial moan of his name ringing around the cloisters. But there is time enough for that.

He was vaguely aware of the rumbles of wet enthusiasm bubbling from deep in his throat, the taste of jasmine mingling with the sweet nectar leaking from your entrance. All of it. He wanted all of it. All of her.

Your fingers had knitted into the thick of his braids, pulling his face gently between your thighs. Deeper. Loki smiled against your cunt. He rocked you back, sitting up further on his knees. The god took a breath, pausing to observe the once-forbidden glory of your pussy displayed beneath his loving command.

“How are you mine?” he hummed over your pleasure-drunk form, water dripping from his chin. You melted into his open mouth as he delved down again. His worship was rhythmic, each wax and wane of his talented tongue ringing new wells of praise from your lips. Your hands slid down his glistening biceps, feeling every solid curve and vein on their descent.

He could feel the growing frequency of twitching in your calves, the tense of your thighs as you clung on to the wave of pleasure building in your gut. Gasping, you patted his forearm; but Loki shook his head against your sticky heat.

His eyes rose, seeing your brow furrowed in panicked anticipation. The Prince ran his palms up your thighs from where he knelt, never ceasing his gentle laps against your slit. Relax, my love, it said. I have you.

And with a choked cry of his name, Loki felt a warm well of sweetness against his tongue.

Water splashed against his cheeks as your hips shuddered, your tightened thighs pressing him closer. He slurped, kissing your sex as he would your mouth; massaging the sparks of ecstasy sizzling on every nerve for as long as they could last.

You had dug your fingertips deep into his triceps, riding out your pleasure. As she should, he thought; moaning against your cum-soaked sex. He hoped your enthusiasm would leave bruises. However fleeting.

“My Lord…” he heard you gasp through broken breaths. Loki took a moment to hover before lowering your legs, sinking your hips below the comforting glaze of water. Tendrils of his onyx hair spread on the ripples as you slid down the step to meet his lips with yours.

“My Lady,” he heard himself slur; drunk on the taste of your cum and the tone of your voice, “shall we to bed?”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close. Fingertips played over the wet knotting of his braids, a loving smile tugging at your mouth. “Heirs?” you said, biting your lip.

“Heirs,” he smouldered.

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@meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @loopsisloops @glitchquake @joyful-enchantress @nyxlaufeyson @arch-venus25

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swtki · 10 months

Text

Needy

relationship: loki x fem!reader

summary: you and loki are celebrating your 100th year of, and you’re feeling quite needy

warnings: 18+ (minors and pearl clutcher please leave), piv sex (not for very long), pet names, loki just being a good husband

word count: 670

You and Loki were a tangled mess. Skin on skin, breath on breath. Today is the day that marks the 100th year anniversary of you and Loki being wedded. The passion was still clearly there, and the connection was still strong.

“That feels so good” you moaned out, raking your nails down the alabaster skin on his back. He grunted at the pain and jerked his hips harder into yours. You both let out a moan of pure pleasure. You leaned up toward Loki’s neck, trailing love bites down to his collarbone, “Loki… Please…” you moaned in a plea, not entirely sure what you were begging for, but all you knew is that you wanted more.

“I know, my love, I’m right here,” Loki cooed, brushing the loose hair out of your face, before moaning at you clenching around him, “Shit, darling…” He moaned into your neck as he felt himself spasm inside of your tight cunt. You threw your head back as you began to feel a coil build up in your stomach causing you to buck against his hips, in order to get just enough friction.

“Loki.. I—” You started out in a warning moan

“Me too, my love, just wait a second for me, okay, baby? Can you do that for me?” Loki asked, panting for air, his free hand lowering down to your clit, circling it rapidly, making it harder and harder to hold your orgasm.

“Loki… I— I can’t hold it anymore!” You wept out in pleasure. Loki connected his lips to yours, tangling your tongues together in a messy kiss.

“Let go for me, beloved, I’ve got you,” Loki whispered into your mouth, in between your kisses. That was all you needed to release all over him. Waves of pleasure hit you as you bucked against Loki as he released his seed into you. A deep moan left his lips as he threw his head back. Holding his hips to yours, ensuring every drop of him remains inside.

After a few moments, Loki practically collapsed onto you. He breathed into the crook of your neck, inhaling the natural scent of you, now accompanied by the smell of your guys’ strenuous activities. Meanwhile, you laid below him, playing with his hair, twirling it around your finger, and drawing small shapes on his back.

“I love you, Loki” You sighed out in relaxation as you felt the soft patter of his heartbeat against your rib cage.

“I love you more, darling,” Loki replied. The two of you continued to lay there for a little while before Loki spoke up again, “I should run you a bath,” Loki said, attempting to get up, which was quickly stopped by you wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Don’t go.” You murmured into his neck, pressing kisses onto his collarbone. You heard Loki chuckle above you, but he listened and stayed laying down

“My love, I’m not going anywhere. I was just going to run you a bath, that was it, I swear,” Loki replied with a cheeky smile.

“Then take me with you,” You quipped, kissing him.

“My needy, needy girl” Loki chuckled, standing up, grabbing on your hips, to keep you in his arms. You tightened the grip of your legs on his waist as he got up.

He led you into the en-suite bathroom, placing you down on the sink. When he tried to tear away from you, you whined in protest. Loki cocked an eyebrow at your neediness.

“I like it when you’re nearby” you confessed, kissing his lips. Loki laughed, but accepted your kiss.

“We’ve been together for over 100 years, and you can’t let me walk 3 feet to start the bathtub?” Loki mused, caressing your cheek.

“Nope” You replied, popping the ‘p’ in “nope” before giggling and nuzzling into his neck.

“You make things very difficult,” Loki started, before flicking his wrist, magicking the bathtub to start filling up with water at the perfect temperature, “perhaps that’s the reason why I married you,”

***

i have no idea where i got these ideas from but i’m rocking with them. i also wrote that when it was like midnight soooo

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swtki · 10 months

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Risk

No but imagine discovering Loki has a slight breeding kink 🤭

18+ | contains smut, breeding kink, nsfw stuff

There was nothing quite like the thrill of potentially getting caught whilst having sex with Loki that turned you on more. There was something about hushed giggles and stifled moans that just made you achingly aroused. It didn’t help that Loki was always in the mood to fuck you, it made sneaking away together almost part of your routine when having to socialise with others like now, during your parents barbecue. Loki had spent the last half an hour speaking with your dad and some of his friends about something otherworldly whilst subtly glancing at you. Everytime your eyes met, it felt like the first. You had to have him.

It didn’t take you long to pull him up the stairs into the bathroom before your lips were pressed to one another’s. His hands smoothed over the material of your slinky dress, settling on the contours of your hips as he pulled you against him, lips moving to your neck.

“We don’t have time Loki.” You urged, wanting to just feel him inside of you. When he continued kissing your neck, you ran your hand against his bulge, knowing that it’d make him harder, more susceptible to just burying himself inside of you giving you both what you desperately needed.

“I don’t have any condoms.” He admitted, lips moving to your ear.

“You didn’t bring any condoms?” You huffed in annoyance “just don’t, you know.” You answered, sitting on the edge of the sink as you pulled your dress up. Loki efficiency freed his length, palming it a few times as he guided it towards your entrance. Silencing your moan with a kiss, he pushed inside.

There was something different about this time, something that felt sensational. You couldn’t quite work out whether it was the way Loki was grinding his hips into you or the way you were positioned on the sink but this time felt titillating, more gripping, you didn’t want it to end. Wrapping your arm around the back of his neck, you pulled him down to kiss you as your moans grew louder. Your walls clenched around him, leaving him almost at the pinnacle of release as he pulled away from the kiss.

“I’m going to—” he warned as you continued clenching your walls.

“Don’t pull out” you murmured, Loki’s brows kitting in confusion “cum inside me.”

Loki’s eyes widened as he stilled for a moment at the request. Sure he had done things like that before, there were a fair few orgies in Asgard that he had attended in his centuries but not here, not with a midgardian, not with you. The thought surprisingly made him more aroused but before he could proceed, he needed to be certain.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes!” You accidentally yelled before lowering your tone “one time isn’t going to hurt anybody besides, I’ve just finished my period so I can’t get pregnant.” You assured.

“I’m not quite sure that’s how it works—”

“Please Loki.”

Between the sound of your whining, the feeling of your walls pulsating around him and the thought of risking that with you, he couldn’t help but fuck you with ardour as he thrusted deeper, pulling out before thrusting inside of you again. You could barely contain your moans as your head hit the cabinets behind you, bottles falling out and crashing into the sink. He thrusted a few more times before he hit his peak, stilling his movements as he ejaculated inside of you, teeth bared as he shuddered. He stayed like that for a few moments, unable to deny that this was one of the best orgasms he had ever had. He wondered if knowing that there was a risk, a risk that you could end up carrying his spawn was what made it better. No matter how unlikely, he enjoyed the excitement that it stirred in him.

Since then, you and Loki were back to always using protection despite how much he desired to have you like he had done that day. He didn’t want to pressure you into it but he couldn’t deny that it had awoken something inside of him. Something primal. Whenever you were away from him for the night, he’d stroke himself to completion, imagining his lubricated hand was the walls of your pussy. He’d blow his load, imagining he was releasing deep inside of you, filling you. Breeding you. It wasn’t until one evening when you found yourselves in the same position that he was able to give into his more carnal urges.

“We don’t have any protection.” You frowned.

“That’s never stopped us before.” Loki grinned, kissing your neck as he rubbed his fingers against your clit.

“Fuckk Loki” you mewled, eyes closing as your head fell back against the mirror behind you “but we c-can’t r-risk it.” You insisted. Practically growling, Loki’s kisses against your neck turned into a sharp bite as he sunk his teeth in, the pain leaving you even more aroused as he entered you with his fingers.

“Say that again.” He purred in your ear.

“We can’t risk it Loki.” You repeated, confused as to why he’d want you to say that again as he curled his fingers upwards, hitting that perfect spot. His lips were sucking bruises onto your neck before it hit you, eyes rounding in surprise. “You like this don’t you” you smirked “the idea of impregnating me, the risk.” You teased.

Wordlessly, Loki’s eyes darkened as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your gazes met as he licked them clean before he moved his hand to hold his length. Moments later, he was entering you, your back hitting the mirror behind you as his hips pushed your body further and further into it. You watched him, sweat beading on his brow as he looked down at himself thrusting into you.

“Fuckk Loki, just like that.” You moaned, squeezing your walls around him.

“You feel so good” he praised, voice almost strangled “norns, I can feel your walls clenching around me, begging me to fill you.” He continued, pressing the palm of his hand against the mirror whilst the other rested against your hip.

“Lokii.”

“Are you going to let me pump you full of my seed? Mhmm?” He uttered in your ear “yes, you’d like that wouldn’t you.” He almost sniggered.

“Yesss.”

“Do you want my cum? Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Lokiii I’m so closeee.” You near cried.

“Tell me you desire my seed. Beg for it.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Please, pleaseee Loki—fuck, I want your baby—I want.” You moaned, words leaving you as Loki began playing with your clit “fuckk!” You screamed as pleasure engulfed you.

“I can’t wait to see you round with my spawn.” He panted, still fucking into you as his precum mixed with your slick “everyone’s going to know, they’ll all know ‘twas me who impregnated you, me who gifted you my seed, that you let me—norns, you let me cum inside this pretty pussy.”

“Loki.” You whimpered, approaching another climax. His thrusts grew sloppy as he reached his peak, entering deep inside of you before he came, shooting his hot seed into you. You clung to him desperately as your thighs shook, both of you overwhelmingly sated and sensitive as you caught your breaths back.

“We’ve got a lot to unpack.” You chuckled as your breathing steadied.

“Okay mrs can I call you daddy?” Loki answered, kissing your forehead causing you to gasp.

Meanwhile in meeting room 1A:

“So where’s Loki and y/n?” Bucky asks, sitting at a chair.

“They needed to use the restroom.” Steve answers.

“Together?” Natasha smiled.

“Yes.” Steve nods confused.

“You let them leave and go into a bathroom together?” Bucky chuckles.

“I don’t see the prob—oh.” Steve pales.

Tags:

@lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @lokilvrr @evelyn-kingsley @strangelockd @xorpsbane @lovingchoices14 @donaweasley @sailorholly @lokidokieokie

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swtki · 10 months

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ESTONIA HAS LEGALISED MARRIAGE EQUALITY ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

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swtki · 10 months

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Johnny Marr during Hand In Glove, 1984

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swtki · 10 months

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this is probably the best take I’ve heard so far on the debate of people being told that they aren’t having enough ‘compassion’ for billionaires making bad decisions and paying the obvious consequences for it

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swtki · 10 months

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“Can I come over and pet your dog?”

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 765

Number 9: “Sorry to text so late, can I come over and pet your dog?”

You hadn’t heard from Bucky in days and to say you were worried was the least.

It’s not like he was obligated to message you, not at all. You honestly consider yourself lucky that you two just happened to be at that same coffee shop almost a year ago, and you were also lucky that you two strangers randomly clicked over the drinks you mixed up by accident and ever since then a strong friendship brewed.

Your friendship had its ups and downs but you’ve managed to pull through and typically a few times a week, you’d relay text messages to each other. Whether it be just a funny gif, a dumb picture, it was always something, something to make you laugh and something to make Bucky feel normal for just a moment.

But of course with him currently being on a mission the past few weeks, it certainly made keeping up with each other much harder. Of course because of his mission he hd to lay low, meaning he couldn’t text you. It wasn’t a big deal and he assured you it wasn’t too crazy of a mission. But still, no word from him for two weeks, that still made you worried.

You knew he didn’t typically enjoy his missions, and he didn’t sleep well, sometimes he forgot to eat and so on.

So yeah you were worried.

You’d spent the last few nights just hoping he was at least getting some rest and not pushing himself too hard.

This particular night you were thinking of him again. You were huddled underneath your quilt practically ready for bed, when you couldn’t get the thought out.

Bucky.

You knew he had nightmares, and sometimes he even refused to sleep because of them. You thought about it for some time remembering how he’d explain his nightmares and how tired his expression was whenever his body refused to sleep.

Then a ding emitted from your phone nearby gaining your interest. Curious about who would be texting you at such an hour, you unlocked the screen. Bucky.

The text read; “Sorry to text so late, can I come over and pet your dog?”

The question was so random, so left field…but of course you couldn’t say anything apart from, of course come on over.

Sure enough in almost fifteen minutes he was at your front door. After a brief hello, your medium sized, fluffy and friendly dog who was previously tired, was suddenly wide awake and excited as he ran over to the super soldier.

The super soldier bent down to the dogs level rubbing him all over before cupping his face in his hands lovingly.

“Hey big guy” is what he said as his pets slowed down. You observed from the side, watching as his tone was warm but his expression showed clear exhaustion.

Bucky entered your living room placing himself comfortably on your couch, your go following close by.

Clearing your throat you asked, “so, I know I can’t ask any specifics, but was the mission a success?”

“Yeah, it was. I told you it was simple just included a lot of staking out.”

“Good, I’m glad it all worked out.”

You watch for a moment in silence as he adores your dog, I mean who couldn’t, but still you notice how heavy his eyelids raise after he blinks and his pets against the animals fur were beginning to slow in pace again.

“Did you get sleep?”

He scoffed a little at that, “ha, no, but I’m fine.”

“Bucky that’s not good, you look exhausted.”

He nodded and shrugged at your comment. “Here, sleep here, I’m okay with it.”

He immediately waved his hand denying the offer, “no I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”

You pressed your lips together not liking that answer, but you knew there was nothing you could do. He was going to do what he wanted anyway.

“Well at least let me get you a drink or something, I got snacks in the kitchen.”

It takes you approximately five minutes to get all the things you knew he liked and when you returned you found the man curled up on your couch cuddling with your dog.

“Bucky…” you breathed out, grateful he was in front of you safe and sound. After one last look, you swiftly moved to get a blanket to cover the man.

Throwing it over and securing it without catching the dog in was a bit of a struggle but you got it done. And with that you give one final look before whispering a tiny, “goodnight,” and shutting the lights off. “Can I come over and pet your dog?”