16. Taking naps together, from day till night, waking up every now and then to get more snuggles in.
thank you to my sweet friend @this-is-ali for picking this number. here's the list that it's from. if you want me to write one, send me an asks!
couple: Tarlos | word count: 356
It was one of those rare, peaceful slow Sundays that they didn’t get often enough anymore.
They were both off work for the next two days, schedules aligning for the first time in months - TK was sure that Carlos called in a few favors for that to happen. It was needed, of course, the time to just be together, slow down, and talk. It had been too long, much too long since they got time to be together and just exist in the moment.
TK sighed contently and snuggled deeper into Carlos’ arms. He felt the warmth of the morning sun on his back but it wasn’t as tempting as feeling Carlos’ strong arms around his body. There wasn’t anything in the world at that moment that could convince him to get out of bed and out of his husband’s arms.
“Good morning,” Carlos murmured, and TK felt the words more than he heard them as he rested his head against Carlos’ chest.
“Good morning to you too, sweet husband,” TK said. His voice was still thick with sleep and he didn’t have any plans to do anything about it. He wanted to spend his entire day wrapped up in Carlos’ arms, weaving in and out of sleep and finding small moments to talk.
Carlos shifted and for a moment TK thought he was going to get out of bed, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled TK closer, brushing his lips against TK’s forehead, and held him tighter.
“Let’s not get out of bed today,” Carlos murmured, already sounding like he was going to drift back to sleep.
TK smiled, “I like the sounds of that.”
Sure there were people who would say they wasted their day off by napping for most of it, but TK would disagree. There wasn’t anything better than getting to lay in his husbands' arms and just exist while the world outside of their shared space moved on. It was days like this that he lived for, days that reminded him that Carlos loved him and wasn’t going to let him go - no matter how many rough patches they went through.
summary: after a whole month working under her, bucky meets properly for the first time his feared boss.
pairing: bucky barnes x venezuelan!brown!reader (3rd person)
prompts: cultural blending + cultural food
warnings: curse words.
notes: this is all set on caracas, all dialogues written in english are actually in spanish for the sake of y'all. this is my AU where Bucky is finally free of HYDRA after the fight on the helicarrier and instead of going to romania he goes to venezuela.
this is also my submission for @uncafeavecbarnes and @happygowriting's bipoc!reader challenge :)
-
After all the fiasco of his previous job and a nice reference from his neighbor, it was a miracle that Bucky landed a job with a pay infinitely better than his last one. Assistant to the Political Analysis Department's chief at some political studies center in Caracas.
It's kind of funny for Bucky to get hired for a job like that since he wasn't exactly a politics fan. He still wouldn't understand the whole discourse of "right wing or left wing?" back in the States, Venezuela's politics were completely out of the question.
But a job is a job, and for money the monkey dances. So far, the money has been great, the job pretty adaptable for him and the environment overall nice. His boss is a busy lady that hardly speaks or throws him a glance for any reason other than his assistant duties and Bucky prefers it that way at first as he settles in the office.
Today and at this moment is lunch time. The center has a large and nice cafeteria where some co-workers already sit and chat animatedly about whatever topic crosses their minds. Bucky decides to sit by the window alone. Partially for the nice view of the streets and partially because it's still kind of awkward when his co-workers try to strike up a conversation with him and he just answers with "yes" or "no". Apparently, those aren't appropriate answers when trying to make some friends, for whatever reason.
Bucky hums in delight as he puts his home-made meal on the table. He is finally catching up on spicing his food as his neighbor suggested, so he put his best effort on the nice chicken sandwich he's about to dive in. He takes the first bite and smiles sheepishly to himself. He ain't no chef but surely he is proud of his creation after years of eating whatever shit HYDRA decided to feed off the soldier.
On his peripheral vision a movement takes his attention, and he takes another bite as he curiously glances at the fancy looking white suit.
Quickly enough he diverts his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. It's his boss, the epitome of girlboss herself and probably the finest dame Bucky has ever seen. If a place like that center of political studies was an aim for the most pretentious and intimidating people in Caracas, that woman was the perfect representation.
Don't get him wrong, she hasn't actually been bad or cocky to him in his whole working month, but her persona exudes such a neat power that it is nearly impossible to not feel nervous around the tan-skinned beauty. She's always dressed to the nines in her finest clothes and jewelry, making the bare minimum interaction with almost everybody in the office. It doesn't ease him up to know she is the chief of the Political Analysis Department, a summa cum laude political scientist with a sharp tongue and endless love for her profession, not to mention Bucky's ultimate fatest crush. To see her in the cafeteria is plain odd given that she normally takes lunch in her own office, but Bucky guesses the blocks of papers in her desk may have something to do with her choice of eating here.
The woman looks entirely out of place as she walks among the tables and some people throw amused glances, her dark hair in a clean bun, her white suit paired with some nude-colored heels and some big ass shades that for a moment Bucky thinks look kind of comical. Her heels clink against the floor until she stays still for a moment, assessing her surroundings till she finally decides to sit in front of Bucky at another table, facing the window like him and farer away from the people.
Bucky subtly stares as she puts her own meal on the table. It is weird to think such a specimen of lady is still human and not some kind of goddess.
Seeing her like that, so reclusive and eating alone makes him think of all the interactions non-work related he has seen of her with anybody at the center. There aren't almost none, Bucky realizes. She's always one of the firsts ones to arrive at the office and the last to part, her raspy and cinnamon-coated voice rarely resounding for anyone other than the Head of the Center, and himself. Co-workers live to throw from time to time some snarky comments about her attitude, but Bucky suspects those comments are biased.
For example, she once had an altercation with Gabriela from the Investigation's Department. The young secretary mistakenly switched up some important papers that needed to be delivered and his boss had to pick up her broken plates. The entire office remained completely silent as the dark-haired woman reprimanded Gabriela for her mistake. She wasn't rude at all, neither did she yell, and Bucky was pretty sure Gabriela deserved the tell-tale. Still, the snickering about her "bitchiness" couldn't not be stopped. So, yeah, Barnes could totally get why the woman wasn't so fond of public appearances among his co-workers.
"Is something wrong with my food, Bucky?" he heard her voice and his greyish-blue eyes snapped up to hers, now realizing she had taken off her sunglasses and raises an eyebrow. Bucky blushes, realizing he had his stare absentmindedly on her lunch. A nice-looking arepa.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I spaced out", the ex-assassin replies with some meekness laced in his deep voice. He clutches his sandwich in his gloved hands and takes another bite. Bucky can feel his stomach doing a flip just from this interaction, but he isn't really in the mood to not try to humour his gorgeous boss in her free time. Fuck his shyness. "That is an arepa, isn't it?", he plays dumb as he tries to ignore his beating chest. He's been in Caracas for some months now to know what an arepa looks like, but the staff knows he's a foreigner, so he can win some chats over those things.
What is he doing? He doesn't know, but hell if he isn't gonna give years of learning languages a practice. Bucky suddenly doesn't feel so shy, and he guesses the woman can see that as she takes a moment to ponder.
"It is", she takes a look at her lunch before turning again to him, "It has some caraotas, a bit of cheese, some avocado. Have you tried it yet?"
"Not really. I've tried some tequeños and empanadas, but mostly because I buy them. Arepas are more the home-made type, no?"
To his delight, she throws him a pleased grin and her eyes seem to sparkle. Probably the first one she has aimed at him. Bucky is sure his face is red as a tomato, so he tries to cover himself with the remnants of his sandwich. There isn't much left, so he does an attempt to strategically put his gloved hand in front of his face, blocking her vision for a moment.
"They are. But that's because they are the easiest to make of them all. You can fill them with whatever you want", she explains, and then takes a bite. Her own hand covers for a moment her mouth as she eats, but quickly she returns to their chat once she swallows, "Have you tried caraotas?" Bucky shakes his head, and her boss widens her eyes comically. "You really don't know what life is about", she jokes, and it's then when she settles her arepa on her plate before turning to Bucky, asking him if she can join him at his table.
So that's how he ended up lost in those deep rich brown eyes, her animatedly explaining to him how the god-sent arepas are made. Her favorites are obviously the ones with caraotas, but she explains she also likes to sometimes put some fish and a thing called chicharrón. Bucky nods completely absorbed by her explanation. Is this really the same woman that has his co-workers shitting in fear?
"There's one thing that is absolutely imperative you have to know", she deadpans suddenly, and the brunette stays still as if he was being conceded some secret of state. Her eyes bore into his with all the seriousness she could muster, "The Colombians say the arepas are theirs. That is utter bullshit"
"Utter bullshit. Noted" Bucky nods compliantly, and she breaks her whole facade with a soft laugh, taking some attention of some people still mingling in the cafeteria. He has to fight to not let out a loud sigh, and slowly another sheepish smile takes his lips.
"I'm telling you this because Ferrara is colombian, so it's a matter of time before he goes asking you about them", she chuckles as she speaks about the Center's President.
Bucky doesn't have the heart to tell her that she's probably the highest rank person he would ever talk to.
It doesn't matter at all when she's talking so freely and asking him about his experience in Caracas so far, even venturing far as explaining him another venezuelan dish called hallaca; at least that is what they were talking about until they both finish their meals and she takes a look at her phone, realizing it's already past lunch time. Almost twenty minutes late, and the rest of the co-workers long gone on their duties, only the both of them still in the cafeteria.
Her eyes widen and then she mutters how late it is. She avoids his gaze for a moment, and Bucky has the impression she is slightly flustered. He can't help but follow the way her tongue darts a bit on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry, I got caught up rambling. I hope you didn't mind the whole food course", the tanned goddess musters and Bucky has to bite his tongue at her shy tone.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
"Not at all. If anything, now you gave me more reasons to venture in the kitchen. It really is an upgrade to go from boiling everything I eat to eat some nice hallacas", he tucks his tupper on his lunch box. She gives him a confused look and Bucky awkwardly smiles before dropping it. He sure is dumb as fuck.
"Well Bucky, it's been a pleasure to have this time with you, but now I'm going back to my office to get the papers done", she does the same, and then puts her big shades on top of her head. The blue-eyed thinks that's it, but then she takes a deep breath. "Would you like to do this again tomorrow?"
He raises his eyebrows, but he has no hesitation answering. "Of course, miss"
She corrects him giving her name. "Please, around lunch time or free time just call me that. Believe it or not, you are not the only one that has a hard time making friends"
Maybe her statement can be confused by some rude comment, but it doesn't feel made with malice at all. If anything, it feels like she's relieved to find some common ground with her assistant.
"Yeah, i'm glad you noticed. I thought our conversations about hazard analysis were pretty deep, though"
She laughs, loudly, and he feels he's going to melt. God bless political scientists jokes.
It's then when it clicks to Bucky. She is just as shy and awkward as him, and her looks and rank and knowledge doesn't exactly make her seem very approachable. Hell, even Bucky was scared to be on her boss' line of vision whenever she curtly gave him a task. It was all a matter of actually having the interest to look beyond.
It's hard now to think there's a whole staff just talking shit about this sweet being.
Bucky returns happily to work after their time together. The fancy-looking lady gives him more tasks, but he can't miss the way her subtle smile makes a way on her face as she speaks to him. He feels his heart beating wildly.
Sun sets and finally getting off work, Bucky decides to make a stop at the nearest market to his house to buy some arepa's flour. Needless to say, he doesn't fill them with caraotas or avocado, but he still thinks of her as he prepares them in his hands, ready to bring her one tomorrow.
For @happygowriting and the 666 Followers Sinday Challenge - my love you deserve a million more followers and I can't wait to be there every step of the way.
The challenge was a 666 word story about a Demon!Character of your choice. Thank you to darling @nix-akimbo for the edit 😘
Warnings: Demon!Chris Beck, breeding kink that takes, vague smut, slight choking, assorted filth. My blogs are 18+ spaces always.
It was not an odd occurrence to be under the stars with your boyfriend.
He was, after all, a renowned astronaut. A scientist, a doctor - his eyes burned with intelligence and his fingers brushed over your skin with the precision of a man with no hurry in the world or indeed, the universe.
So to be with him, in a secluded field far from any prying eyes and gazing up at the sky, was not out of the ordinary.
The strange red glow in the sky around a particular cluster of stars was out of the ordinary, and you turned from the telescope with a question.
"Chris? What is that?"
He stepped closer, and looked through the lens before turning to you. His eyes looked darker than usual in the dim light and for a moment you were taken aback by the strangeness of it all.
But...it must be your imagination.
His fingers touched your cheek, soft and trembling, and you held your breath as they drifted down to wrap around your neck loosely. "Do you trust me?"
"Always." You answered without thought, sure in your love for him.
"I need you now."
You blinked. "Here? Now? Chris, what are you -"
Your words caught in your throat as his fingers tightened their grip slightly. "Now. Yes?"
Swallowing hard, and more than a little aroused by his show of dominance, you nodded. "Yes, now."
He led you back to the blanket spread on the soft grass and you moved with him, laying on your back under the stars and breathing hard as he undressed you slowly. You watched him until he was the same, both of you bared to the night sky, shivering a little in the chill of the breeze.
"My darling," he brushed his knuckles across your cheekbone, "do you know how long I waited for you?"
You weren't sure what to say, staring up at him as he slotted himself between your legs, his other hand gripping your thigh and holding you open for him. "How..." You breathed out, overcome. "How long?"
"Centuries."
His eyes stared into yours, darker than you'd ever seen. Almost....black...with desire, or something else.
He thrust inside you, one perfect movement and you gasped. "A beautiful garden, the perfect place to plant my seed."
You moaned, half-listening, your hips rising to meet his. "Seed?"
He chuckled, his movements speeding, his hands stroking your skin in all the places that brought you pleasure. "I'm going to breed you, my darling girl. The one I've been looking for. I came from the stars to find you."
"Chris..." You choked out his name, your body responding to him beautifully as you always did, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he buried himself inside you. "I need you."
"I need you, precious. Need you to be my good girl, can you do that for me?"
"Yes," you answered immediately, fervently. "Yes, yours."
"Mine," he affirmed, eyes watching you closely as you reached your peak, and he followed soon after filling you up as you begged for more.
He pulled out of you and lowered to stare and gently touch you, his hands curving your hips towards the sky and he took you again, filling you over and over until you weren't sure if you'd be able to walk.
Chris smiled down at you, and kissed you softly. "Good girl, I knew you were the one."
"I love you." Your voice was quiet, used from how you had moaned for him.
"I love you, too, my mate. I will return for you."
You blinked, processing the words. "What do you mean - return?"
Chris smiled down at you with those black eyes and a red glow began to consume him. You felt him withdraw from your body and you closed your eyes, and when you opened them, he was gone.
Nine months later, a tiny set of black eyes stared at you, and then looked up toward the sky.
For @happygowriting 500 Followers Celebration - my dear friend, you deserve this number times infinity. Thank you for everything you have done for me.
Prompt: "Pleasing you is my only purpose." I chose Steve Rogers, particularly Nomad Steve.
Warnings: nudity and implied smut, it's me and I'm vague - my blogs are 18+ spaces always.
A life lived on the run offered little chance to take your time, with anything. Taking a breath was a luxury and staying one, or hopefully two, steps ahead was a necessity.
When those moments did come to breathe easily and to decompress, you were grateful. A night to yourselves away from the prying eyes of your teammates, and the ability to just be - it was a gift, precious and stolen, and Steve Rogers never took it for granted.
Taking advantage of the brief time alone while Steve went over plans with Sam and Nat, you stripped yourself out of your uniform and lowered your tired body into a hot bath. You couldn't remember the last time you could do this without keep going, eyes up, staying sharp and always moving.
The bathwater was still hot when your eyes opened at the sound of the door closing, so you knew you hadn't drifted off for long. For a moment your brain jumped on guard, eyes scanning around for a weapon, before you heard his voice calling your name and then, "Where are you, baby?"
"Steve," you whispered his name in relief before answering him. "In the bathroom."
Your breath caught in your throat when he walked in - forever awestruck by the sight of him. You smiled up at him as he moved closer to the tub.
"Pretty as a picture, sweet girl." His voice was much softer than his wild look, and you craved that contrast. "Is there room for me?"
"Always."
Your eyes stayed locked on his form as he undressed, the tiredness present in the way he was moving slow but you knew he wouldn't let that stop him tonight. You scooted forward so he could slip behind you in the tub and leaned back against his broad chest, his arms encircling you. The steam rising from the water soothed you both, gentle sighs and deep breaths the only sound in the room besides the occasional drip of water.
Breaking the silence, you whispered his name. He hummed in response, the rumble of the sound in his chest pressed to your back a comfort. "Can I wash your hair for you?"
"Of course, baby girl." Both of you maneuvered so you could accomplish your task, your fingers massaging the shampoo into his scalp and through his long strands of hair and your body drinking in his sounds of pleasure. After rinsing out all the soap you leaned forward to kiss him, your lips brushing his delicately.
"Thank you, baby, but that's the last thing you do for me tonight. Pleasing you is my only purpose.”
A rush of desire filled you at his words, the look in his eyes burning into yours. "But I want to please you," you protest feebly.
"That's why you're my sweet girl," Steve pulls you close again, his hand on the back of your neck, his words breathed out against your lips, "and I want to spoil you tonight. Let me, please, while I have the chance."
How could you deny him this when these moments were so far apart? You could only put yourself entirely in his hands, let him move your bodies together and breathe him in with a "yes, sir."
Hi guys! I’m back on the writing contest circuit for the first time in a long time. This challenge also marks the first time I’ve written anything remotely smutty in six years. With that in mind, go easy on me folks. I’m a little rusty!
Thank you @happygowriting for hosting this challenge! x
Pairing: Andy Barber x reader
Prompt: “Why am I always so horny when there are people around?”
Word count: 795
Warnings: 18+, sexual content, brief use of language, legal case referring to an endangered child
Monday morning. Middlesex County Courthouse.
There are murmurs in the lobby as you make your way inside. You scroll through your phone, taking one last look through the emails you’ve been sent about the case. It’s a tough start to the week.
This is the second time you’re serving as ADA to Joanna Klein, the top DA in the area. When she approaches – crisp white shirt, thick-rimmed glasses, grey hair pushed back harshly behind her ears – your hands instinctively ball up. When you first met, she told you she saw a piece of herself in you.
Flattering, but intimidating. She could shake the jury to the core with a single word. You don’t want to let her down.
“We’ve all had a difficult case to take on. You’ll be fine. I know what you’re capable of.” Joanna puts a hand on your shoulder, giving it a maternal squeeze.
“Thanks, Joanna.” You exhale slowly, put your phone in your handbag and readjust the binder wedged under your arm. “Did you hear back from the AFC yet?”
Joanna shakes her head. “No. He’s late.” She glances at her watch. “We need to check in with the CASA this afternoon. If they’re going to successfully take this to trial and win the guardianship then they need to try harder.”
Joanna’s eyes shift to the right. The familiar, mouth-watering scent of his vetiver-spiced skin makes you fight the urge to audibly hitch your breath. It’s him.
Andy.
“Sorry I’m late. Just got off the phone. Keisha’s still in temporary accommodation at Children’s Cottage. I spoke with Laurie and she’s provided a statement.”
Andy turns, a glint in his eye as he pretends it’s the first time you’ve met. His hair is longer now, or maybe it’s just the lack of product weighing it down. There are flecks of grey in his beard. His lips quirk up, smooth and full, and you remember their softness in a heady flash.
“Andy Barber, ADA. I’m the acting AFC for Keisha Taylor.” He proffers a hand, mischievously raising an eyebrow. “Want me to fill you in?”
You’re stammering a little. “S-sure. Go ahead.” You clear your throat.
Joanna gives you a knowing sideways glance. You twist your lips, trying your best to hide a smirk as your cheeks begin to burn. There’s a meeting room a few steps away.
The shrill beep of a phone silences the noise in your brain.
“I have to take this. Meet me back here in twenty minutes.” Joanna picks up her briefcase and hurries down the hall.
Andy’s warm hand grazes the small of your back as he opens the door. He immediately removes his suit jacket. His shirt strains against his muscles. Your eyes follow the tuck lines down to his belt. You unclip the links of your binder, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. You remember the night at the bar, the tang of beer in his kisses, how easily he brought you close….so close. You’re clutching the binder now. Andy’s eyes catch yours and you teasingly rub your fingers up and down the clasp.
Thick, electric silence fills the room.
“It’s been a minute.” Your voice is soft, low, disembodied. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yeah.” A beat. “Wanna go for round two?” Andy’s arm drapes across your chair, his long fingers tracing circles on your shoulder.
“I’m not into repeats, sorry.” You shoot him a smirk.
“Who said anything about repeats? I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to do to you that night…”
You cross your legs as you feel that tell-tale twitch of desire. “Andy, we need to concentrate….”
“Am I distracting you?” His hand moves downwards with a tantalizing drag of his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin tingles, the simplicity, the softness of his touch sending shivers through every muscle and nerve.
You take a deep, shaky breath, your eyes flitting down to the documents in front of you. Then back to Andy. The broadness of him. Those strong hands...he’s mapped every curve and peak of your body, explored it, owned it…
“Fuck it.” You slam the binder closed and push it across the table.
Andy grins.
Your heart thumps wildly, the room beginning to blur. “Just…give me a minute.”
“God, you’re a tease.” He laughs, the sultry baritone reverberating through you, setting you alight.
You exit the room and rush to the bathroom, pacing up and down, hands fanning nervously as though you’re trying to cool the pure heat of your lust. Propping yourself up against the sink, you meet your reflection with a huff.
“Why am I always so horny when there are people around?” Your jaw tightens. “Fuck you, Barber. Fuck me.”
Thank you for the ask, darling 💖 I’ll give you a couple of quotes for your roses.
Mr. B
“I guess those dodgeballs on the court aren’t the only blue ones around here now. I’ll see you when you get home, Mr. B,” you slipped from his grasp and smoothed the front of your blouse down.
Sandman
"[rest of lyrics] So go to sleep, my love,” his words lull the tiny human back to sleep, her eyes finally drifting closed. He holds her there for an extra few minutes, allowing the thunder to clap once more.
I Wanna Be Your Slave
“Last time I pinned you down, I don’t remember you grinding your hips into my crotch like that.”
Untitled
“So. I know we don’t know each other, but I need to ask a favor.”
“Sorry, but I’m all out of sugar if that’s why you’re over here,” you saw a grin form on that handsome face of his and heard a lovely chuckle rumble from within.
