The Master Of The Dungeon 👹

Lando Norris

You and Eddie laying down together on his bed while he writes up the next arc of his dnd campaign????

He’s shirtless. Propped up just enough to be able to write comfortably and you’re (in your comfiest pjs) fully laying down between his legs with your head on his tummy. Your time is mostly spent listening as he mumbles little ideas to himself, humming along happily whenever he has any sort of break through, and pressing little pecks to his pretty, soft skin whenever you feel the need. Sometimes he get so excited about an idea and literally uses your head to stabilize his notebook so he can scribble it down faster— his legs wiggling all hyperactive on either side of your body like he’s gonna explode if the words don’t get out of him fast enough.

Pretty boy lets you take a peek at whatever he’s got written down bc he knows you aren’t gonna spoil anything for the rest of hellfire (no matter how much Dustin tries to beg, bribe, or blackmail the details out of you) His face lights up with the biggest, fondest grin whenever you make any comments on the parts you like or even when you ask questions about the things you don’t quite understand yet bc he’s just SO happy you’re taking interest in something he cares so much about.

You always end up giving him endless amounts of praise for his writing/storytelling abilities. And, you leave NO room for him to argue or deflect— eyes so honest and true as you stare him down, tone of voice showing every inch of admiration you have for him in a way that makes him feel like there’s a lump in his throat. Gets his eyes all shiny and he has to look away before his bottom lip starts to wobble or something silly like that. By the end of the night you’re all tucked up in his arms as he reads his ideas out loud to you, because even though you’ve already read through most of it you insist it’s not the same if he isn’t doing the character voices himself. (And secretly you just like having an excuse to hear him speak lol)

He’s got one hand resting on the back of your neck, warm and grounding while he balances his notebook in the other. He’s animated as always, albeit a little toned down as to not disturb you too much. Presses a little kiss to the top of your head to punctuate the end of each paragraph/idea.

You don’t always fall asleep like this, but when you do it’s really not your fault. You can blame the way his thumb rubs little soothing circles in the juncture of your neck. The low rumble of his voice that only gets deeper as he switches between characters. The warmth of his bare skin or the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

He doesn’t stop reading, even when he notices you’ve begun to lull, but his voice does get softer. Fonder, somehow. He’d never have the heart to nudge you awake, even when you eventually get so comfortable that you start to drool a tiny puddle onto his chest.

He’ll always have the heart to tease you about it whenever you wake up, though.

“Music for whatever you want...”

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°•☆Heavenly Touch☆•°

♦️ Bucky Barnes x Reader ♦️

A/N: Just soft, fluffy blurb of Bucky in the tub getting his hair washed cause I’m in a sappy mood today 😔

Words: 650

Bucky Masterlist

☆☆☆

Few things in the world are as heavenly as your hands on his scalp, Bucky’s sure of it. Not food. Not sleep. Not se…Well, scratch that. 

Being inside you, all tight and warm around him is the best feeling in the world.

But your soft hands…massaging and pressing into his scalp, running through his brown locks with patience and care, it’s a definite close second.

It started simply. You offered to wash Bucky’s hair as it seemed so…greasy. And Bucky got a little embarrassed, because he forgot. He always forgets little things that people do and it’s a good thing you’re there to remind him, to ground him. With you, becoming Bucky Barnes again, finding Bucky Barnes, or at least the shattered pieces scattered through his psyche, feels easier. 

As Bucky slumps backwards in the tub, his thick muscles clench and unclench. Tension melts from his limbs beneath your soft touch. He basks in the tender press of your fingers and his mouth parts, long lashes fluttering closed. A low, sultry hum, veering on erotic, escapes his throat. 

"Guess I’m really hitting your sweet spot, huh?" you tease, pulling Bucky from his trance. 

There’s a rosy hue to his cheeks as he bashfully replies, wet chestnut locks hanging in his face, "Sorry…"

You wrap your arms around his neck and drop a gentle kiss on his broad shoulder. 

"Hey, no need to be embarrassed," you whisper. "I’m glad I can make you feel good."

Bucky sinks into silence. It’s not unusual, when he gets into one of his moods. But there’s a wrinkle in his brow that makes you inquire.

You caress his stubbled jaw. 

"Is there something on your mind?" 

He swallows a deep breath, his blue eyes dimming, shadows engulfing them. 

"I was never touched like that…back there," he whispers, almost too quietly for you to hear. 

You give a slow nod.

He doesn’t need to elaborate his meaning for you to understand he’s talking about Hydra and his time as the Winter Soldier. 

Bucky’s lips tremble as his eyes get glassy. Your stomach knots at the sight. He struggles to get the rest of the words out, his voice breaking. 

"Either I wasn’t touched or…touched in a bad way."

Your insides wrench. He never talks about it. The air in the bathroom is heavier, more stifling as Bucky’s gaze gets lost. For a minute, you lose him, to awful memories, to pain and loss. It’s all written on his face. 

Your chest is hollow as you helplessly watch him go through this. 

Your hands roam over his shoulders as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. 

"I wish I could say something to make it better."

His big, warm hands cover yours, drawing circles into your wrists, reveling in that simple touch. There’s not a minute together Bucky doesn’t marvel and linger in touching you, smelling you, soaking in your essence.

Like he wants to remember you with just his hands, carve your memory deep in his skin, so it can never be taken.

"You don’t have to," he rasps, brushing his lips against the back of your hands, eyes falling shut. "This…makes everything better." A peaceful lilt courses through his tone. "You make everything better, doll."

Butterflies dance in your belly with his words.

Before you can respond, Bucky suddenly rises from inside the tub. Droplets glisten off his naked, muscular frame, dripping to the floor as he climbs out of the tub. 

A stunned shriek tumbles out of you when he picks you up and swoops you in his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tight with his metal arm.

"Bucky, what are you doing?" you gasp, your gaze widening. 

He sends you a crooked grin that makes your chest flutter. 

"You made me feel better. It’s only fair I make you feel better too, doll," he purrs suggestively, striding to your bedroom with confidence.

✨First Win✨

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• #jb17

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