bakerstreet | ＴＯＯＫＹＯＵＩＮ

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The ＴＯＯＫＹＯＵＩＮ Shipping Meme

They were on your front door, in your yard, or on the street, confused and clearly in no position to fend for themselves; in a worst case scenario, they were bruised and battered, possibly close to death. Bleeding heart or not, you can't just be so cruel as to let them suffer. They need a place to stay, and you'll open your home to them...long enough to get back on their feet, anyway.

Speaking of feet, the shoe could be on the other one. You're worse for the wear - in a new place, possibly injured, certainly not in the best state of mind. You could not even remember how you got here or who you are to get here, for that matter. You may not want to remember. Whether willing or not so willing, you're in no position to turn down help, especially if said helper won't take no for an answer. No matter how dedicated you are to looking after yourself, there's only so much you can do in your position.

The two of you are staying together, at any rate. Only for a while, the plan is. But after said while, even though strength and confidence is returning to the injured, there's something a little different between you two. It could be the close quarters, the kindness shown, or a number of things, but quietly, softly, feelings have grown. Could more confusion and hurt spring from this? What about when it's time to go? Can the temporary resident leave as easily as they intended? You're so close now, perhaps a little while longer can't do any harm...

...until whatever it was that put them in such a perilous position in the first place comes back, and there could be "justice" for anyone who's dared to help.

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Comment with your character and preferences. Say if you'd rather play the taken in or the person taking them in.
Reply to others.
There's no smut option because I'm making a companion smut meme to this for TLH in the next few days, but you can play smut if you really want to!

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ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?

ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.

ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.

ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.

sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —

ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.

sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.

sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.

ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.

ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.

ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.

ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.

ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.

ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.

ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.

ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.

ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.

ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.

ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

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Never again.

[It's a promise, because that's what happened, Steve let Bucky out of his arms and someone else too him away, someone else hurt and used him, and Steve might not be strong or know how to use a gun, but he won't let it happen again. He won't.

Bucky's holding him so tightly that he can feel the rapid pounding of his heart, a drumbeat that Steve recognizes as fear. He moves his hand a little to stroke his back, soothing him until it slows. There's nothing to fear here, the two of them in this little bed, bodies pressed against each other. It's cozy, intimate, and maybe Steve's interested in stirring a little more than just Bucky's memories.]

I used to have dreams where you would make me feel good. [Steve's voice is muffled against his throat, his lips curving into a little smile that Bucky can probably feel.] Wanna hear about them?

[ Bucky nods after a moment against Steve's hair, accepting what Steve tells him as fact--he won't let him go, never again. He's been lied to and hurt and broken more times than he can count, but he can't envision a world in which Steve Rogers would ever lie to him, so it must be true that he's safe here, that Steve is safe with him, that they won't be parted.

His breathing slows soon after Steve strokes his back for a little while, and his pulse stops pounding; Bucky relaxes against him, breathing in the scent of Steve's hair and feeling the warm length of his body tucked securely into the curve of his. When Steve speaks again, Bucky's eager to listen. ]

Yes. [ That little curve of a smile tickles his throat. Bucky can almost feel an electricity, can almost sense the intent in Steve to make something good happen, and when his heartbeat starts to speed a little again it's excitement rather than fear. ]

[There's a roughness to that single word, something that matches Bucky's quickening heartbeat, the way he inhales him like he's breathing in the aroma of his next meal. But he always stops there.]

They always start with you kissing me. The way we do after we go to bed sometimes. [Soft and slow and lingering, Bucky re-familiarizing himself with it, sometimes looking at Steve with such an awed expression, like he'd done something amazing just by existing. Bucky was always sweet that way, seeing things in Steve that the world didn't. Things that Steve didn't see either.] And then you touch me. Not the way we're touching right now, more like. [Steve swallows hard, a little afraid, because he's never sure how Bucky might react to something "new". He never wants to do anything that Bucky doesn't like, no matter what their past together was. So Steve moves slowly, just enough to slide one hand, bringing it back across Bucky's hip and cupping his groin.] Like this.

[ Bucky likes it when they kiss. If that's how it starts it already sounds good to him. He likes when Steve's arms curve around his neck, when his mouth opens soft and tender against his; he likes it when Steve kisses him like he's hungry, too, sucking at Bucky's tongue, so that Bucky starts to feel hungry as well, aching for some half-remembered sweetness.

He goes very still for a few breaths when Steve cups his hand over his groin. There--that's it, that sweetness, the sensation that's nearly pain but isn't, is somehow the opposite of pain. His body knows it, is familiar with it. He breathes out a shuddering breath, his gaze transforming from startle and glassy-eyed to dark and wanting. Steve dreams about him touching him like this. Making him...making him ache. ]

What do you... [ His voice comes out thicker and slower, his tongue feeling heavy; Bucky licks his lips and tries again. ] What do you do? When I touch you like that?

I let you.

[There's a soft breath of a laugh against Bucky's neck. That's not what he's really asking, Steve knows that. He pulls his head back to look into Bucky's eyes, which are surprisingly dark and hungry.

He starts to massage him, gentle and slow, until Bucky's cock starts to swell against his palm.]

I do this. [Steve kisses his chin, his lips, quick and chaste.] And I ask for more, because it feels so good. What about you, Buck? Does it feel good? Want more?

Yes. [ Bucky's voice is pitched low and rough. He exhales, his eyes flicker as--he remembers, there's a flash of memory that's more feeling than thought, Steve pressed against him just like this but squirming, writhing, bucking his hips to his hand as Bucky worked his cock; it's hazy in that way that means this isn't any one, specific memory, but a thing that happened again and again.

No wonder it did, when it feels so good. Steve must have...he must have wanted it, demanded it of Bucky, and Bucky would have done it gladly for him, would have done anything for Steve's pleasure.

He imitates the kisses that Steve would have peppered at his lips and his jaw, wordless pleas for more, and the bucking of his hips into his hand. His cock rocks up hard against the pressure of Steve's hand, and Bucky gasps. ]

Oh--that--that feels good.

[He's playing with fire, getting Bucky aroused, knowing his strength, his unpredictability. But it still doesn't scare Steve. Nothing about Bucky does.

He wants him to writhe now, the way that Bucky made him writhe so many nights, rubbing his cock, letting Steve fuck his fist while he kept so close and warm. He always made Steve come before he'd work him open with his fingers or tongue, never let him catch his breath until he found his pleasure too, every inch buried in Steve's ass.

He's missed that, and he knows Bucky has too, even if he doesn't remember it. Steve takes his hand away long enough to broadly lick his palm, looking him in the eyes as he gives him his orders.]

Take it out, Buck. I want to touch you.

[ In his hazy imaginings, half-memory and half-fantasy, it's Steve who orders Bucky to touch him and make him come, who fucks his hand and takes his pleasure and gives him sweet, deep, confusing kisses in return. Steve orders him to his knees, to suck and lick him, to fuck him or spread his legs for him. And the asset--Bucky, he was Bucky then--does it all so gladly. Anything for Steve's pleasure, anything that makes Steve smile at him and touch him and make him feel loved, anything that makes Steve pleased with him.

They did that, him and Steve. They did all of that together, and remembering it awakens a bottomless hunger in him, an aching need.

The asset fumbles eagerly at the front of his fatigues. The wreck of the room around them is forgotten; he wants this, he's almost shaking for it, pulling the zipper down and getting his cock out, thick and heavy. Bigger than it was back then, too, though that's a detail Bucky doesn't remember. He urges himself against Steve with a low, raw sound. ]

[They did all of that, and they'll do it again, make new memories to replace the ones Bucky's hazy on. Steve will give him those orders again, but also teach him that it's okay to ask for what he wants, to speak up when he doesn't want something. Steve might be small, but he knows he's the one for the job. No one loves Bucky more than he does.]

You really are bigger. [Steve sounds breathless, wrapping his hand around it and letting Bucky rut against him. It's a hot brand against his palm, thick and throbbing, and Steve spits into his hand to keep the friction feeling as good as possible.]

Doesn't matter, I can still take it. After you come the first time, you're gonna get me ready for it. [Steve kisses him, licking into his mouth.] I'm gonna make such a mess of this bed, and you're not going to ask me to leave, are you Buck?

[ He gasps in relief as Steve touches him, wraps his hand firmly around him. His hands are--the asset loves his hands, they're big and warm and calloused from holding pencils, nothing at all like the callouses that come from holding a rifle, and they don't hurt him. They only bring pleasure, bring comfort. Steve teaches him how to speak, how to ask for what he wants even when he can't find the words, and Bucky asks by thrusting into Steve's warm, damp palm, eyes closed as he concentrates on the ache of his cock and the liquid heat pooling at the base of his spine, all these wonderful sensations.

His eyes fly open when Steve says he's bigger now, but he--he can still take it, take him. ]

Yes.

[ The asset gasps the word, rough against Steve's lips. ] You can take me. You'll take me.

[ The reminder of a mess makes his gaze dart around the room for a moment, guilt and a shadow of fear passing briefly through his eyes, but Steve kisses him and his hand pumps his cock and the asset forgets again, forgets everything but how he is melting into Steve's touch. ] Don't leave. I want you. Please, I want--

Shhh, I promise I won't leave.

[Steve kisses him again, drags his hand down his spit-slick cock and gives a little twist at the heads.]

I'm yours, Buck. So you have to take care of me. You have to let me take care of you. Tell me what you want, do you wanna finish in my mouth? I know what you taste like, hot and bitter. I've swallowed it down and let it splash across my face. You could mark me if you wanted. You could remind us both that I belong to you.

[Steve's voice is raw with need, his heart pounding, feeling like he's suffocating in his clothes. His cock presses an obvious outline against the front of his trousers, but he feels empty too, clenches hungrily, probably not much different from a dame when Bucky got them hot and bothered.]

I want you to give me every last part of you, inside and out. Everything you've done and everything you fear. Every good and bad thing you've felt. It's mine now, Buck. There's only me.

[ The asset kisses back almost desperately, as if to prove to himself that it must be true, that Steve won't leave him. That Steve belongs to him. He can feel all the little things that add up to desperation in Steve, too--the speeding of his pulse, his skin feeling hotter, damp with sweat where Bucky's fingers brush it, his voice turning rougher as he talks, and the asset feels like he's dreaming, it sounds so wonderful. He could lie here and listen to Steve talk to him all night, listen to him murmur in his ear the things Steve wants to do to him and the things he wants done to him, the ways they can take care of each other. He thinks--even without a hand on his cock, even without a single touch, he could get hard just from listening. He could even come.

He makes a low whimpering sound against Steve's lips and thrusts into his hand, a fat dollop of precome squeezing from the head of his cock. He doesn't know what he wants. Or rather, he wants all of it, and can't decide what would be best: all of it sounds so wonderful. Steve says he belongs to him, everything in him belongs to him, and the asset feels so relieved, like nothing will ever hurt again. ]

I want to finish in your mouth. [ Bucky grasps for an answer, for something that will please Steve. That's what he wants most--to please him. ] Want you to take care of me. Every--every part of me.

[ It's different with Steve, it must be. The asset would never be permitted to put forth his own needs and desires like that. He would never be permitted to want anything at all. ]

[Steve kisses him again, presses his smile against Bucky's lips and feels his warm breath against them.]

It's good when you tell me things. I want you to tell me things.

[It was more punishment than reward before, Steve knows that, and nothing gets his blood hotter, makes his heart pound almost as fast as this does. He slides down his body, licking lips that are already darker from kissing. They stretch around the tip of Bucky's cock, sucking and licking away where he's dripped before sliding his mouth back up. And he's watching Bucky the whole time, his eyes still blue but so much darker.]

My mouth's yours too. You said I was always too quick to use it. [Steve sucks his cock again, bobbing his head up and down while his cheeks hollow around it.] Show me how quick you want me to use it now.

[ His spine shivers, the hard planes of his stomach jump as Steve slides down the length of his body, and Bucky's fingers tangle themselves into Steve's hair almost without thinking, so very gentle. His mouth falls open as Steve's pink lips open around him in a wet, sweet kiss that goes deeper and deeper, takes him hot and slick, and the asset makes a low strangled sound in his throat, a moan of agonized pleasure. Steve's gaze is on him, blue and dark and close, as his lips redden and swell around his cock, and Bucky can't look away, couldn't possibly look away.

Tell me. That's what Steve wants, and Bucky swallows hard, rocks his hips in tiny, shallow thrusts, watching himself push into his mouth. He feels hot all over, burning for this. ] Take me--take me deeper, take me--

[ He knows Steve can, he remembers, how clever he was with that hot, smart mouth, how he made him--made him laugh and gasp and try to stop him from going too fast and hard at sucking him off, worried for his lungs. The asset gasps, rocking his hips, rocking deep into Steve's mouth. ]

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