#I even had a name for him but I can't remember right now

[bananapurincore]

(Phainon, who can't stop bringing you up every second of the day and making you everyone's problem one way or another)

“Mydeimos! That's not very nice to say, is it? Do I really have to pick between ‘getting my tongue ripped out’ or ‘getting my windpipe crushed,’ because neither seem ideal.”

Yes, the prince thinks, he’ll even give Phainon the courtesy of doing both if he hears your name another time. Maybe he’ll put in “snap his neck” to the growing list of punishments he has planned and once that's done, be forced to get creative and add more, but that's in the non-zero chance it does get worse.

Miraculously, it does. Mydei shouldn't have been surprised.

They both put their hands in the Verax Leo, Mydei is decidedly not amused by this from the start, but this was allegedly supposed to be a team effort on their part. The prince doesn't exactly remember the stupid riddle this statue in particular decided to spout out—he does remember every gripe and complain his partner makes in response.

Before, it was “If [Name] were here, how would they’ve tried to solve it…”

“Y'know they always get these puzzles right? Haha, they're just good at everything, I don't know how they do it.”

“[Name] said one time that this was their favorite one to talk to. Which, fine, I think this one's the most fair, but he's also the most annoying, don’t you think?

Now, it's, "Mydei, you still haven't gotten an answer yet? If [Name] were here, they'd already have this figured out!"

The blond feels his whole body twitch. Not just his eyes, or his hand resting in the lion’s maw, or his nose as he tries not to lose his patience entirely. One page of creative reparations won't be enough. He'll need three. Even four.

"Then why didn't you bring [Name] instead of me, Deliverer?!"

Anaxa does not do any form of assigned seating because he knows his students are all adults, even when they don't act like ones.

But for the first time in a long time, he does consider when Hyacine does move to sit down, usually next to Castorice. This isn’t his biggest problem, they’re rather well-behaved on their own; it arises when you sit next to Castorice, and he is sat next to you, that this cursed lineup allows for decreased efficiency on everyone’s part.

But still, he doesn’t believe himself to be that petty (for his standards), the sage has much more proficient ways at getting desired results from his students.

“You,” Anaxa had murmured, leaning in closer to his student’s seat to distribute the work,“Cannot pick the same partner you had last time for this assignment.”

The Heir tilted his head slightly, eyes narrow in thought.

“That's fine,” Phainon assured quickly, “Can I have—”

“No,” He drawled, cutting off his line of thinking, knowing exactly where he was planning to go with it. “In fact, starting today, I've decided you no longer have the option to pick at all.”

This got the boy's attention, prompting the same nervous smile Anaxa remembered he made on the first day. A little pathetic. If not a calculative move (One that likely works on the softhearted, not that he'd know).

“Professor! Let's not be rash. You said this would take weeks to complete, right?”

“I did. And you're not worming yourself out of this, if that's what you're planning. Find someone else that'll humor your nonsense.”

The heretic hears him groan before moving on to the next desk.

✧.*

“You did a fairly decent job. But I can't help but feel as though this isn't aligned with what you normally give me.” The sage sighs, handing the content back. The room was quiet, no other sounds except you and the other girls talking outside the door, waiting for your companion to be dismissed.

“Must've not been using your good eye when you graded this…” The fainter edges of Phainon's silver snow hair dances in the draft flowing through the room, contrasting the disappointed look on his face.

“What was that?”

“Huh? What was what? You're always hearing things, Professor. It scares everyone, including me.” Amusing. Déjà vu, Anaxa is sure he feels. Who else taught him to talk like that?

… No matter. “You don’t think I don’t notice how… disinterested you are when you don’t get what you want?”

“I… don't suppose you'll tell me what that means.” Phainon smiles, as gently as ever (His ears are a different story, the tips flushing with warmth).

“Don’t look so lost. I meant your topic paper, obviously. You're upset because they were random.”

“Right! I just hate not knowing ahead of time.”

Right.

It was one of the casual conversations with the Chrysos Heir that Dan Heng has had frequently with him since arriving. This time, he was treated with some eatery at near the Market that he was thoroughly enjoying, nothing like on any of the other planets he’s been to so far. He had been able to gleam details about everyone else within the Deliverer’s inner circle, and it had eventually fallen to you. At first, they were helpful tidbits, like how they were for the other heirs before you, until they became less and less relevant as the discussion about you went on. Now, for whatever reason, Dan Heng knows exactly what kinds of sweets you like.

“[Name] likes everything cold. Anytime I get them something fresh, they always expect me to chill it first—and I do, of course. Even if it’s right from the oven, they’ll wait for at least half an hour before taking a bite out of it. They prefer ice cream over everything else, so in that regard, they’re pretty easy to shop for.”

Sure, why not. Maybe there’ll be an instance where he’s talking to you and this information can be appropriately applied.

“I’ll make sure to tell Stelle this, it seems they’ve been getting along well, and she’d probably like knowing that,” He responds, “I’m not sure what it is, but she’s been rather intent on impressing them.”

Phainon was chugging his water down mid-sentence, until it reached the end, and he had abruptly stopped. Blue eyes wide as he took the implication in, then narrow with a furrow as his brows as he looked off to the side, tentatively putting the glass down.

“Is that so?”

Oh, if only he knew. Anytime Curtain Hour would fall and Stelle would retreat to the chambers, half of what the trailblazer would talk about would be included, but not limited to, how she found something while taking a “quick” once over at the trash, how she got too full off of dinner and thought she was going to pass out, how she almost fell into the fountain near Kephale’s mural because some child tried to push her in and tried fighting them; and the other half being you.

“Dan Heng, I had the greatest day today, you’ll never guess what happened.”

“… What?”

“You’re so boring, you never try guessing! But whatever, they laughed at something I said. Like, knee-slapping, head on my shoulder, full laugh. It’s super cute, you should hear it one day. Do you wanna guess what I said?”

“No.”

“Ugh!”

“Yes, and we’ve had the honor of meeting a lot of people. I don’t think there’s been another time I’ve seen her as… giggly as she is now.” Which is saying a lot. Stelle giggles at a lot of things.

Phainon laughs quietly, perhaps amused at the notion of this poor outlander falling as much as she has in such a short span of time, or perhaps because of something else the Nameless wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the deeper meaning of for his own sake (Albeit much too late, even alluding towards anything has him caught in something he’s not sure how he got into).

"Mhm, that’s makes sense. I don’t blame her at all for feeling that way towards them. I mean, they’re smart, they always did well in class. It’s a talent, really, that they managed to stay on our professor’s good side for as long as they did. And they have the nicest smile too, don’t you agree? Especially when—"

Dan Heng wishes he never opened this box. Now there’s two of them (And he’s not sure what he got Stelle into, either).

[54nboo]

So… you remember episode 4x7 when that woman hypnotizes Spencer to make him remember if his father killed someone? Alright. Here’s my thought:

After the case is solved, some of his memories from his childhood start coming back, and we all know they weren’t the happiest memories… So he’s kinda sad and down. And he goes to reader (you choose if we work on the bau or not) and she takes care of him. Like very angst and then very fluff and comfort bc that boy deserves spoiling and pampering and kisses and hugs and everything 😭

oh my lord i forgot about that 😞 yes of course i will write this for you anon thank you for requesting :D

“peppermint tea.” spencer reid.

summary: after a horrible therapy session, spencer needs a break— he needs you.

pairing: spencer reid x partner!reader

insp by: ‘child psychology’ by black box recorder

word count: 2.6k

cw: mentions of spencer’s childhood, spencer speaking bad about himself, not super angsty i guess, spencer and penelope BESTIES, and then super duper fluffy fluff.

a/n: it makes me sad whenever i remember ANY of the bau’s backstories like theyre genuinely so heartbreaking

spencer wakes up in a cold sweat.

the room is quiet. the muted sunlight spills in through half-opened blinds, casting streams ofpale light across the office floor. he blinks once. then twice. his pulse is racing, and the memory of his dreams are still stuck in his mind.

it takes him a moment to remember where he is. the couch, the faint smell of lavender, the taunting clicking of the clock on the wall. spencer brings a hand to his forehead, wiping away the spots of sweat that had accumulated in his sleep.

doctor west sits across from spencer, a calming smile on her face as she watches him sit up. she slides a cold glass of water towards him, the condensation already pooling on the coaster, "you were under for about fifteen minutes. how do you feel?"

spencer's throat is dry. he takes a small sip from the glass and places it back down. he doesn't answer right away. he's still trying to catch his breath and still can't quite recall everything.

"i was in the garage again." he speaks, "next to the red toolbox."

she nods, her notepad balanced perfectly on her lap, "did you see anything that you haven't seen before?"

spencer's jaw clenches, "i heard someone call my name."

"your father?"

"i don't... i don't know." he leans forwards, his elbows digging into his knees, hands clasped together tightly, "it was distorted. felt like i was underwater."

doctor west jots something down in her notepad, "memories are linear, and sometimes, they come in fragments. you're starting to connect them."

spencer shakes his head, "or maybe i'm just making it up. that's what it feels like. i mean... we didn't even have a garage."

she lifts her eyes from her notepad, calm and measured, "well, sometimes our subconscious presents things metaphorically—"

"it's always a metaphor. it's always a symbol, or a projection, or a defence mechanism—" spencer feels his chest tighten, like he can't breathe, "but what if it's not? what if its just... wrong?"

doctor west watches him carefully. she can see that he's upset by the way his chest rises up and down in sharp breaths, and the way his lip ever-so-slightly quivers. she sighs.

"you asked to remember, spencer. this takes time."

"i asked for help. how exactly is this helping?" his voice is sharp, eyes set onto doctor west. he wonders what she's written on her notepad. that he's sick? that he's beyond help? "i'm not sleeping. i'm barely eating. i feel like i'm getting worse."

"you're unraveling a very deep and traumatic past. your body and your mind are responding—" doctor west furrows her brows, shifting slightly in her chair, "spencer, if you'd just sit for a minute—"

but spencer's already standing up from the couch and shrugging on his coat. he entire body still feels heavy from the session, but he wants to be anywhere but here right now. he doesnt meet her eyes, only stares down at the ground like it might open up and swallow him whole.

"i'm sorry." he mutters. his voice is flat— not angry, just final. "i can't sit here and pretend this is helping."

"spencer—"

"i'll call if i want another session."

there's a deep pressure within spencer's chest. it presses against his lungs, dense and unrelenting, like someone's slowly stacking bricks inside of him. every breath he takes feel borrowed, like it could be his last if he's not careful.

but he can't do much about it. he's taken about four painkillers to at least try and ease the pressure, but it hasn't worked. if anything, it's only filled the edges of his mind and made his body feel heavier. he's resorted to just shoving his face into a bunch of paperwork he's yet to fill out.

no one had wanted to bother him. hotch had deployed a 'leave-reid-alone' rule for the rest of the day after learning how disastrous his session had gone.

"hey, garcia?"

penelope spins around in her chair like she's just heard someone say she's won the lottery. her bright mismatched earrings swing as she turns to face spencer, who's standing in the doorway of her office. he looks like he's about to leave— coat pulled over his shoulders and his bag around his neck— but there's a couple of papers still in his hands.

she's obviously surprised— the team hadn't even managed to make eye contact with him— and now he's standing at her door, asking her for something? its a miracle.

"you need something, precious?" she grins just enough to hide the flicker of concern in her voice.

spencer doesn't smile, but he does steps inside.

"i thought you might need these." he holds out the papers and penelope takes them, eyes glancing at the information, "there's some comparative data from the london case last fall, and the new york victims from last week. you mentioned wanting a clearer link for your report, right?"

penelope blinks. she hadn't been expecting him to talk much today, if not at all— but she accepts the papers like it’s a present.

"i did!" she flips through the papers, impressed by his organisation, "this is thorough. oh wow, you colour-coded it?"

he shrugs like its nothing, "the similarities are subtle. i thought it might make the whole process a little quicker for you so you dont have to spend all day on it."

penelope studies him for a moment. his eyes dont quite meet hers, looking around at everything except her general direction. he's stiff— stiffer than usual— like he's running entirely on muscle memory to keep him going.

she softens, "you wanna hang out for a bit while i run this stuff?"

he hesitates, then nods once, "if that's okay."

penelope grins. she pulls over a plastic chair from the corner of the room with a theatrical scoot and pats it gently, gesturing for him to sit. he does, slowly, but his body calms down the moment his butt hits the chair.

she swivels around in her chair, fingers dancing around on her keyboard, feeling high on life. she's practically glowing as caffeine and purpose run through her veins.

"so—speaking of london— when's the partner getting back?" penelope asks, eyes still on her screen, "i'm still waiting on that introduction."

it's hard to miss the shift of expression on spencer's face.

spencer had forgotten you were coming back. he almost feels a little guilty. with everything else in his mind— the cases, the sessions, and the nights he spent awake running from his own memories— it had seemed to slip his mind. you hadn't given him an exact date, just said that it was on the weekend. god, he hoped you were already at home. he doesn't think he can stand another day alone.

"today, tomorrow, or sunday" he replies, a soft breathy laugh falling from his mouth, "honestly, i hope it's today. it'd be nice to spend the weekend together before we both go back to work on monday."

penelope, who's been pretending not to watch him too closely, feels her heart blush. there's only a handful of people she truly feels a protective tenderness over, and you and spencer are two of them.

"you're so lucky you're with someone who's well-travelled." she says with a grin, "i've read in a cosmopolitan magazine that they're a lot more open-minded, emotionally intelligent, and great under pressure. they also usually speak more than one language. how many does your jet-setting sweetheart speak again? four?"

his voice is tired, but penelope can hear the quiet admiration laced through it, "four fluently, but six in total."

"god, that's so attractive. you guys are gonna have such cute multilingual babies." she raises her brows, "honestly, you're being kind of selfish keeping that kind of brilliance to yourself. i might have to steal them from you. i want cute multilingual babies."

"you'd probably get bored in five minutes. i don't think listening to an entire ted-talk on the architectural restoration of postwar prague is your type of fun."

"are you kidding? i watched the entirety of the 18 hour documentary on the european train system just because your world-class cutie suggested it." penelope shoots back, "i am committed."

spencer huffs a quiet laugh. there's a moment of silence between them, then penelope tilts her head, her smile gentler now. "go home, spence. you've got a brilliant, world-class nerd hopefully waiting for you." she says.

his lip curls into a grateful smile as he stands up, bag slung haphazardly around his shoulder, "you mind letting hotch know?"

penelope waves him off, "no, go ahead. go see your lover."

her eyebrows wiggle playfully as she watches spencer leave, and she rests her chin in her hand like she's watching the final scene of a romantic movie.

"what a stupidly beautiful genius power couple." she sighs.

the apartment door clicks shut gently behind him. it smells faintly of coffee and old books, but he catches a whiff of something sweeter— familiar.

his bag slips from his shoulder. he gently toes off his toes and places his keys into the small bowl by the door. despite his fatigue, spencer notices that there are an extra pair of shoes by the door.

there's a soft sound in the kitchen— the clink of a mug against the wooden countertop. familiar. comforting. he follows the noise like a magnet, and steps quietly into the kitchen doorway.

it's you.

you're stood near the sink, back faced towards him, pouring hot water from the kettle into your mug. you're dressed in a loose grey sweater— his— and a pair of black shorts. spencer guessed you've already been home for a few hours.

it's such a simple image, but it makes spencer feel something stutter in his chest. its the sweater. its the smell of you. its the sound of you in the kitchen like you had never left.

"you're home." spencer says. his voice is low, like he's afraid he might scare you if he speaks any louder.

you turn at the sound, mug still in hand, and your eyes land onto his. theyre full of surprise and the kind of softness that makes the tension in his shoulders go slack.

"so are you." you joke as you tilt your head with a cheeky grin, arms extended towards him as you embrace him, "hi spence. i missed you."

and for the first time in a long time, spencer finally lets himself breathe.

his hands snake around your torso as he pulls you in. you're warm and freshly showered, smelling faintly of honey and something soft that he can't name, but always associates with home. he presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he's been holding his breath all day.

"i missed you too." he mutters against your skin, "so much."

you hesitantly pull away. your hands find refuge on the sides of spencer's face, his jaw is tense, though his touch is anything but. you instantly notice that somethings off.

you think back to the other day when spencer had told you therapy wasn't helping— you just hadn't expected it to show this much on his face. his eyes are a little sunken and darker than usual, like sleep hadn't come in days. he's much paler, and you almost want to just sit him down and cook him a proper meal just to make sure he’s nourished and healthy.

but you were together now, and you knew you could help him get better, and that he would let you.

spencer's eyes are heavy, ringed with the kind of exhaustion that sleep alone can't fix, but they soften when they meet yours. you place a gently kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

"you wanna hop in the shower?" you ask gently, brushing a strand of his hair from his face, "i can quickly make you something to eat."

but spencer shakes his head.

"no. i just..." his voice breaks a little as he steps forward, pulling you into his arms again with quiet urgency, "i just want to go to bed."

you let him. you can feel the tension in his arms, and you can feel him uncoil the longer they’re wrapped around you. the fabric of his sweater vest smells like detergent. it’s fresh and familiar, like home folded into cotton.

“okay,” you whisper, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, “let’s go to bed.”

you unravel yourself from his arms and lean over, grabbing your mug. you can feel how spencer drags himself behind you. he’s heavy with exhaustion, but there’s a softness in the way he holds you. you can feel it in the way he’s holding onto your hand, a silent ‘thank you’ or a wordless ‘don’t let go’.

the bedroom is dim. your table lamp is on, cascading both of you in warm orange light. you lead spencer over to his side of the bed, and he plops down like he weighs a thousand pounds.

he pulls his sweater vest over his head, placing it tenderly on his bedside table, then unbuttons his pants. he tugs then down until they fall around he ankles, and then kicks them off. there’s nothing inherently sexual about it— just the overwhelming need to be comfortable in your arms as he falls asleep. he doesn’t need his pants to get in the way of total bliss.

he leans back, his head hitting the pillow just as it had for the past month, but only now does he feel sleep catching up to him.

“you want some tea?” you ask as you make yourself comfy in your spot. spencer’s already leaning over and pulling you in closer by your waist. he takes extra care in making sure you don’t spill the tea in your hand— like even in his exhaustion, he’s still thinking of you first.

“no, it’s okay.” he murmurs into your side, his eyes half-closed, “it’s yours.”

“trust me, spence. i’ve had enough tea while i was in london.” you reply with a smile as you take a small sip anyways, “but okay. more for me.”

you place your mug onto a coaster. you both settle underneath the covers. spencer shifts, curling into you, his arm draped across your stomach and his breath fanning into your side.

but even in his stillness, you can feel it— the tension in his shoulders and the coil of stress in his chest, the way his muscles are still taught underneath your hand. you can feel it through his shirt. he’s resting, but not entirely.

you scooch down a little, just enough that you can hold him— chest to chest and legs tangled together. your hands run up his back, your fingers pressing gently against the length of his spine.

he lets out a small breath, humming softly in response. you keep going— across his shoulder blades, down the sides of his torso, the base of his neck— until you feel him melt in your arms.

then you lean in, brushing a kiss against the tip of his nose, then another on the peak of his cheekbone, and then another right on the corner of his mouth, just because.

“i love you.” you whisper, though you’re not sure if he’s still awake.

and thats when you hear it— his soft, rhythmic breathing breathing. spencer’s snoring.

you stay there for a moment. you and spencer are wrapped in each others arms, your fingers tracing lazy patterns into his back and his hands pulling you impossible close to him in his sleep. the occasional quiet snore lets you know that he’s well and truly out.

you dont move— you can’t. eventually, you glance at the nightstand where your peppermint tea sits untouched, no longer steaming and probably gone cold.

but it doesn’t matter. you can brew another one in the morning. what matters is that spencer is warm in your arms— finally rested, and finally still. the weight he’d been carrying for a month had been erased within five minutes of your presence, and you’d trade a million cups of tea for this moment.

you press one more gentle kiss to his hairline.

he’s safe, he’s home, and he’s finally resting.

[lestatthelioncourt]

My Home My Rules

Sinners Mardi Gras/Modern au (Prompt by @brownskincheyenne ! 💜)

Synopsis: Annie is taking her beloved found family to Mardi Gras, and she was invited to join a parade. Be prepared for chaos and a jealous Smoke.

Author Notes: HI GUYS ITS BEEN A HOT SECOND, got smth long for y'all though 😌 YAAY

Disclaimer: 18+ , slight violence, use of n word (I'm black raah)

Chapter 3

January 6th has arrived, and it was time for their first journey to the city and explore the Krewes and parades of the day. Annie had a surprise related to that and had a friend to meet later that night as well. She just knew she had to keep Smoke in check before even letting them meet. 

He was an annoying man, but she wasn't going to let him ruin her joy. She knew how to handle him, even if she had to put him on a leash when they went out. If that's what it resorted to. She went to her suitcase and dug for an outfit, and flinched when the devil's advocate that she decided to love burst into the room. 

He tapped his sock-covered foot on the floor, his hands gripping the knob as he watched her slip on a glittery gold short-sleeved shirt. Each day, she seemed to escalate the elegance of her outfits, and he wondered if it was on purpose. If she and his brother had anything in common, it was the effort they put into their looks. 

“You hungry?” Smoke huffed like he was her daddy, and his eyelids were barely open. When she got a whiff of him, she could smell the weed covering 

“We can eat after I get dressed, and I think it's fair to take everyone somewhere nice to eat before and after the parade.” She said, already having the day planned out. “My cousins are upset I ain't gone to see ‘em yet, so I'll let y'all meet them later.” She said, picking up a golden skirt. 

“Yo’ cousins, Natalie and Martin?” Smoke asked, and she was glad he remembered their names. 

“That's them,” She gave him a small smile and went to her other suitcase and pulled out a glittered shirt and black pants. “This is for you.�� 

He grabbed it and tried not to make an expression, but he felt that the inside was silk and not harsh like the outer fabric. He gave this shirt a pass for now, if he has to be itchy while walking in the city, there are gonna be some problems. 

He means no problems; he has to make it up to Annie. No little shirt was gonna ruin his mood; surely he was better than that. 

The look on Annie's face, as if she were reading his every internal dispute. She just helped him switch shirts, and her hands now gripped his blue cotton shirt. 

“You gonna be okay, baby, as long as you just focus on the fun around you. Don't worry yourself to death.” 

He nodded and fixed the shirt fit on himself. None of it scratched his skin, unless he moved his arms, which was a problem. He shook his head, already about to take it off. “Baby, I can't do this shirt, like, actually.” 

Annie sighed knowingly, and she had planned a backup for this. She knew he wasn't purposefully being difficult. The texture was quite harsh, and she tried to ignore it herself. But his discomfort with it affected her. 

“Alright, don't worry, it's time for outfit B.” 

She took out a different shirt, and he felt a wave of ease. It was a nice purple silk shirt, had an extreme v neck, but he could work with it. He quickly put it on, and she pulled out his golden chain, bracelets, and rings. 

“There you go, comfortable and flashy, darling!” She cheered, turning him to face the big dresser mirror, and then handed him his shoes. “And put on your grills, ooo they gon’ look so good with all this.”

He felt like a ken doll, but didn't mind if it was making her look at him like that.

She slipped on her skirt finally, the length stopped right at her knees, and it had a slit on the side. Teasing her bare hips. Yesterday, she had bought golden heels to match them, and she slipped them on as Elijah eyed her from the mirror. 

“You so pretty…” He muttered before turning to face her. He slowly approached her, and unlike how he usually does, he let his hands hover. Waiting for her permission. 

She raised her eyebrows and smirked a bit before guiding his hands to her hips. “Thank ya boo,” she counted to 5 seconds in her head before moving back from him and heading to the bathroom. “Let me do my makeup and hair, and go see if everyone else is ready.” 

He watched with a deflated expression as her ass swished to the bathroom, and he fixed his face before walking out of the hotel. His little angel kept putting him in his place, it seemed, and he'd let her do so for now. He deserved it a bit, but he wasn't all for it. Who would be? 

He knocked on Stack and Mary's door, and to his utter turmoil, heard distant creaking. He then bangs on the door, “Y'all asses better be ready in 10 minutes, we got places to be and people to see!” He barked. 

—🎭—

When they made their way to the French Quarter, Stack was immediately cheering. He had his tongue hanging at the vibrant colors and the outfits, when they walked up to the crowd, he was pulling one woman to take selfies with him. It was like he didn't come over with his family initially until he walked back and shoved the photos in everyone's face. 

“Her jewels were purple and green, y'all check this out!” 

Annie nodded appreciatively, gently putting his hand down. “Remember to keep your phone close to ya, Stack—” 

He sucked his teeth but did just that, he adjusted his black vest with embroidery of the signature colors— green, yellow, and purple. They were in consistent circles along the leather fabric, and he had a dramatic V-neck similar to his brothers. 

Mary kept eyeing him, and Smoke hoped he didn't look that crazy while watching Annie when she was showing off. He knew that the couple got back together right before the trip, and he didn't have much time to ask Stack if it was going well for them. 

He could have asked while they were shopping yesterday, but that didn't go according to plan at all. But he just hoped that things were good for them, even if he honestly hadn't been the biggest fan of hers. He just wanted his brother to try and stay in good situations. They had enough problems in the past with just people in general. Rooting from their father, and it took forever for him to be comfortable enough to even find someone.

He was fortunate to find Annie, and Mary was okay, but … at times, she was a bit much. By a bit much, she has a history of cussing his ass out and causing scenes. Sure, Stack was annoying, but it was always discussions that could be done in private, and it was messes the public ain't need to know. 

So when Mary was eyeing him to take pictures of those other women, Smoke just hoped she wasn't going to make it a big deal later. He knew his brother, and if he wasn't chasing them, he was just overflowing with enthusiasm. A bit silly to go to strangers, but he was the type of man who wasn't afraid to compliment and show his appreciation— he was always that extroverted. Something he also didn't understand. 

“Hey, Smoke.” 

He was cut out of his thoughts when Sammie spoke up; he didn't realize the younger man was walking beside him as Annie led the way down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” He asked shortly, and also noticed that Pearline was up against his cousin. He realized he ain't been asking him about his relationship either, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. He glanced at Annie and reminded himself that it was fine. They had time. And he had to keep Annie also settled while she did her thing. 

“You good? You behind Annie, which is shocking to me.” Sammie stated, and kept his eyes respectful as he looked forward to Annie. Then turned and put a hand on his eldest cousin's shoulder.  “...She made you sleep on the couch?” 

His jaw dropped, and Pearline let out a shocked giggle. Pulling her man back towards her and shaking her head. “Sammie!” she failed to chastise.

Oh, weren't they just so cute, all up on each other, both respectfully glowing and full of youth (despite just being a couple of years under him) and not annoying in any capacity. His inner dialogue was filled with sarcasm and frustration. What was he their punching bag? Smoke yanked his shoulder away like he spoke the devil's name. “No nigga— well, honestly, it's none of your business. We are walking here and should be focusing on our surroundings.” 

He didn't sleep on the couch; he was just denied sex. There's a big difference. He still woke up to the warmth of her body that day, and he was perfectly fine with that.

“It's okay, she'll come around.” He was saying it like he knew Smoke's fate and that Annie would forgive him eventually. “For now, you have us.” 

“Nigga I could go walk next to her right now, I ain't banned from her presence.” He sneered. 

Annie then suddenly stopped and turned to look at the group, and she glared at Smoke like she caught him doing something wrong. He fixed his posture and made sure his hands were visible, “Now y'all, I know you guys are excited. And your first Krewe is coming up these streets shortly. I want y'all to have fun but be safe, okay? I ain't gonna be too harsh on where we stand, but just make sure we can see each other, yeah? Not too far apart.” She reminded them.

Everyone nodded, Stack mindlessly already drifting to chat with some other dressed-up folks. Mary tagged along, and Sammie and Pearline didn't go too far but were already grooving to the beats beginning to play. 

At that moment, they played some upbeat jazz, the horns blowing from either somebody’s porch or sidewalk. Entertaining the crowd as they waited for the Krewe and watched other parades walk the streets.

Annie shook her head but then turned to Smoke, who hadn't moved an inch. She sighed and walked up to him and put her hand in his, and she tried to sway him to the music. 

“C’mon baby, loosen up, hm? Shake something for mama…” she cooed, giggling at her joke. 

Smoke snorted, and at the very least, scooted closer to her. She saw his shoulders relax as he pulled her up against him. “I'm sure you'd like to see me shake something, you so funny woman.” 

Annie grinned at him, “Oh, so you think I'm playing?” She slapped his ass while licking her lips and held in laughter at his astounded expression. 

As if the city could hear her, the jazz eased away, and heavy, produced beats started playing. Annie started to cheer, and so did others around her, and Smoke flinched but had his eyes set on her. Watching as she started to gyrate against his hips, and looked back at him.

“What you can't handle this now?”

Smoke gave her a slight glare and just put his hands on her hips. Already preparing to show her that he could handle whatever she threw his way. Pearline looked over at them and naturally as the hype woman, she ran over with Sammie and more in tow. 

“C’mon now, Annie, show us how it go!” She cheered, “Show us how it go!”

Annie let out her laughter and was finally able to let loose. She rolled her hips back slowly before they began to effortlessly match the beat. Her hips swirling and ass slapping against Elijah with no mercy. 

He received it well and palmed her sides. Damn, she was going all out, and he could see her underwear teasing each time she shook that big ass. He tried to keep the skirt down, but honestly, it wasn't doing shit. 

It amused him now that she was serious when they initially arrived, and now was being all carefree. Truly carefree and just enjoying herself, and his only one hope was to be able to let her have fun, but also keep her somewhat grounded. He doesn't want her doing too much, not around all these people at least. 

But maybe he should work on relaxing a bit; this is all for her. 

And the more he watched her, the more his heart flipped— sometimes he felt like he didn't deserve her. 

“Pop that pussy girl!!” A person called, and everyone joined in the cheering and kept dancing to the music too. 

The energy was at an all-time high, and Annie felt right at home again. She stood up finally after her legs were trying to give out, and she let herself topple back on Smoke. 

“Shit!” She giggled, and she laughed harder at his concerned face and tighter grip. 

“You good?” He muttered, but he quickly chuckled at her genuine smile. 

“I'm more than good…” She cooed before shaking off her legs and moving herself against him further. 

He took a glance around now that she had slowed down a bit, and still saw Sammie and Pearline dancing. He never saw the boy move so much in his life, but he was having fun. The problem was that the more he looked, he couldn't find Stack or Mary. 

He cursed under his breath and moved away, and looked through the crowd more intensely. 

“Where the fuck Stack at?” He growled, now walking down the sidewalk a bi,t trying to make sure he wasn't just overlooking. 

A frown appeared on his woman's face, and he hated that his concern caused it. She started to look around too, and also didn't see him immediately. That was until they both heard a shrill scream, and their heads turned to it and saw Mary trying to chase some guy across the street. How she even got there, they had no clue. 

“My phone!” She cried and kept running behind him.

Smoke felt such exhaustion. Wasn't she warned to keep that close to her so many times? They couldn't cut through a parade to help her ass—

But then he saw his brother getting involved, randomly about to tackle the dude. Oh hell no, then the police would be on Stack instead. And he could not have that drama, he took in a deep breath and glanced at Annie. Who was already unimpressed as well, and making her way towards Pearline and Sammie. 

“We gotta get to Stack and Mary, follow me.” She said, leaving no room for any arguments as she grabbed their hands like they were children with Elijah in tow. 

She magically slipped through the crowd; it was as if they teleported when they crossed the street and didn't disturb the events. 

She walked up to Stack, who was chasing down the guy, but had to halt when she stood in front of him and Mary.  “Y'all some damn fools, I told y'all to stay with us—”

“Move Annie, I gotta get Mary’s phone!” Stack growled. 

“That shit gone, Stack, or you wanna get pummeled?” she snapped back, “I tell ya’ll the guidelines, and what to do and don't. And y'all too busy doing what—the fucking opposite?” 

He was about to talk back again, but held his tongue when practically everyone glared at him— except for Mary, of course. She wouldn't have a right to, she just looked down in agitation. 

“Oka,y damn, my bad.” He said, before looking at the streets and seeing the Krewe finally walking. Their flashy clothes and unique outfits had him in a daze. “Oh shit!!”  

Smoke had meant to say something that whole time, but was too proud of Annie taking control of the situation to do anything. He shook his head as his stupid brother got distracted by the parade after his faults, and he looked at Mary, who didn't say anything and just crossed her arms. Pouting. 

Could she at least fix her face? Making shit sour for his girl. 

But he was trying to be on his best behavior today; he wasn't going to say anything. 

With the mood shifted between the group, Annie took a deep breath and went over to Mary. She put a hand on her arm, “We can try and ask the police if they saw anything, okay? They out all over the place with parades and such, would that make you feel better if we try and look for it correctly?” She asked.

Mary nodded, but seemed unsure. “But you said it's gone though…” she said.

“I mean 9 times outta 10, yeah, but… looking around may not hurt. Maybe the guy realized it has a passcode and threw it on the floor somewhere…” She was trying to be hopeful, to at least bring up Mary's spirits so tonight could continue to be enjoyable. 

Finally, a hopeful smile came across the light woman's features, “Yeah, okay, we’ll look…”

Smoke's eye twitched at the fact that they had to look in the first place; he did not feel like walking around the rowdy French Quarter. But his girl has a big heart, one of the best qualities about her. 

So they all were off, going in the direction the thief ran to try and find the phone. The more steps they took it reminded him of how he and Stack would walk their streets. Mainly just looking for trouble, skipping high school, trying to make money by selling or fighting. Just shit, they weren't supposed to do. 

But on their way home, they would always be walking past this house with a red roof, and of course, Stack would always make a big deal of it because it was his favorite color. 

It didn't take long for them to notice a girl from their school went there, and she was beautiful: she was light brown, had black box braids, mixed with red, and according to Stack—

“She got a bangin’ body, Smoke look!” He’d whispered as they walked by, he whistled like the fool he wa,s and waved at her. “Lookin’ good lil mama!” 

She was fit and, like most, looked like she carried the world on her shoulders. Stiff but gave Stack a small smile. “Thank ya, boy, and why y'all two always walking by my house?” She snapped, glaring but amused at Stack putting his arms up in innocence. 

“We just walk this way home after school, nothing major!”

 That day, it wasn't a complete lie; school had ended. She has a ride or drove home, cutting the amount of time it took much shorter. 

“Hm, okay, but my mama says she's seeing y'all during the day. So don't play slick.” 

“Okay, sorry, Essence…” 

Smoke would just watch the interactions at the time as Stack was just trying out his time on yet another girl. Until they grew closer and even seemed to have a promising relationship. Dating during the last semester, but he messed it up by cheating on the poor girl with another.

It disappointed him; he thought he had taught Stack better. Even if he never really cared about women at the time, and if they were younger and stupid. 

Essence wasn't bad at all. 

When Stack moved in with their childhood friend Mary that summer, he wasn't just neutral; he was annoyed. 

He knew how they both were, always rushing towards danger. He was impulsive himself, but at least he had instinct. Stack and Mary couldn't keep themselves safe without him. 

Just the current phone situation was an example, and he was so glad he had Annie nowadays. Or he would have lost his shit by now, but he was reaching his limit with how they were disturbing the trip she put so much effort into. 

He was so deep in thought and his frustrations that he didn't notice Stack trying to talk to him until he raised his voice. 

“Smoke!” He snapped his fingers in front of his face and earned a scowl. “I’m tryna talk to you!” 

“What nigga.” He snapped but looked forward and saw Annie tryna talk to Mary again. He then looked back at his twin. 

“You barely helping us, just walking around aimlessly—” 

Smoke snarled at him, “The fuck I'm supposed to do? It was your girl who got her phone taken? Want my ass to look high, low, and in directions I don't even know for something that I ain't even a part of?”

“You being an asshole, Smoke, shit happens, man!” He crossed his arms and glared at him.

“Y'all couldn't keep it together even on our first day out. Got Annie walking around in dem heels and barely enjoying her own time back home.” 

“Not like Mary asked for it to be taken, we want her to enjoy being back too—” He huffed and ran a hand across his face. “Damn you throwing low blows, man…”

“Oh, there it is!” Pearline yelled, snatching the brothers from their argument, and everyone snapped their heads to where she pointed. 

The guy who took it had it in his hand and was trying to sell it to some random guy on the street. Stack immediately walked closer, and Annie held his arm. “Let me handle it, Stack.” She said, knowing how to talk to people in her city. She could guide the situation the best, by default. 

She walked up to the men, the thief had his hoodie dow,n and she got a good look at his face, her jaw dropped in shock. 

“Curtis?” She scoffed, and the man flinched at her voice and turned to her. 

“Oh shit—” He then glared and his jaw dropped, before he gave her a sly smile. “Oh shit, Annie! It been a hot second, girl, you look good!”

His words had Smoke squinting his eyes and walking up beside Stack to watch the scene.  

Annie just smiled back and glanced at Mary and the rest of them before looking at the phone in Curtis’s hand. He twirled the phone in his hand before looking at the people behind her— they had to be her friends. He noticed the twins and chuckled. 

“Ain't never seen that face, especially twice before— y'all twins?” 

Stack sucked his teeth and grinned, “Nah, we cousins.” Showing off his teeth and gold grills, but his eyes were menacing. “And you have seen this face before, while you were running with something that didn't belong to you.” 

Annie glared at Stack slightly but looked at Curtis, and saw how he examined the group further and saw Mary. His eyes widened. “Oh well shit, she with y'all?” He whistled softly. “Well damn, if I had known—”

“Look, just give it back and no problems,” Annie said, and kept her eyes on him and the phone. 

The other man, Curtis, was tryna sell to, just scoffed and got up. “This is too much for me, peace, Curtis.”

 

Curtis cursed under his breath and glared at them, “Y'all disturbing my business.” 

“Business?” Smoke echoed, his eyes blinking like heard him wrong. “Selling locked phones? How much do you make when you sell a quick $100? Trust me, this shit ain't do nothing compared to any real deal shit.”

“Well, I took it. She should have kept that shit close— you know how it is out here, Annie. Quick bucks are worth it—” 

“Curtis.” It was her turn to scrunch her face up, she was getting fed up. “Just give my girl back her damn phone.”

She didn't have her knife on her, but knew damn well the twins didn't mind getting their hands dirty. That was the problem with those two, and she didn't need any more drama out here tonight. 

“Well, I will if you promise one thing, Annie.” He held the phone out, teasing her, and she knew better than to reach out for it. 

“What?” She asked sharply, already dreading the possible answer. 

“Since I know you're staying awhile, why not get it kicking with me—” 

“She ain't doing shit with you.” Smoke interjected, he had seen how Curtis was practically undressing her with his eyes. It was disgusting, and he walked up to the man and just yanked the phone from him. “Fuck off nigga.”

“Smoke—” 

Curtis could tell that he had a disadvantage, but he couldn't just take the phone was just taken from him. So he threw a punch at Smoke's face, and that made Stack tackle him on sight.

 

“The fuck you doing punching my brother for nigga!”

 

After a quick tussle between Curtis and Stack on the sidewalk, Stack threw a few punches and Smoke kicked Curtis’s side— honestly, they had no business beating his ass, and they all were just fighting for no reason. 

“Stop y'all! Before the fucking cops come, y’all doing too much!” Annie yelled, and it grabbed Smoke's attention as he finally backed away and pulled Shack off of Curtis. She huffed and took the phone from Smoke and gave it to Mary. “We are leaving, to the car.”

Sammie had been recording the ordeal, and sighed in disappointment that it ended so fast. He turned his phone off and kept it close as he followed angry Annie and everyone else as they recovered from the twins' beating of the poor thief. 

—🎭—

Annie had everyone stuff themselves in Elijah's rental, and she took out her phone and called her cousin Natalie. 

“Girl, y'all back at Aunt Bessie’s yet?” She was doing her best to ignore everyone's puppy eyes and down looks. She knew they all felt bad for her night being ruined, but she wasn't giving up just yet. 

“Oh girl, you know we are. Had enough of that walking around, what about you and your crew? When y'all coming over?” 

Annie smiled as she slowly made her way out of the French Quarter. Excited to see her cousins and family, “We on the way now.”

“Oh shit! Girl, we ready for you, ‘bout damn time. Thought for a moment you didn't care about us…” 

Annie heard a dramatic sniffle, and she rolled her eyes. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.” 

—🎭— Taglist: @boonoonoonus @sunshinerepublic @coolfoodrunworld-blog @bigjh @lizbehave @thedondada05 @mindyouthisismyaccount @chknnwffls @caramelplug @summrsovrinterlude @stormynovashambler @hdfen2474 @Isc72 @futureemmywinner @queenofklonnie22 @underated345-blog @blacktie47 @margepimpson (lemme know if you wanna be added! If i forgot anyone im sorry im stupid my first taglist....)

[epiksuperman]

A HC Superman x Reader where Superman is.. Overly knowing. Some would say. (And freaky)

"You don't even know who I am- or my past!"

He only responded with a small smile.

"Sure I do. "

(By the way, any addresses talked about are NOT real!!)

Working at a cheap, low pay IHop sucked ass. Obviously. But its all you could even do.

"Maybe dropping out was a stupid idea"

You thought to yourself. Yeah. No shit it was a stupid idea. And now you were stuck mopping the floors of this sticky, dirty IHop for the rest of your life, unless you quit. Which you'd love to do, but you can't. Jobs in Metropolis are already hard enough to get due to the city being high maintenance, think about the apartments. The cheapest apartment being around 3k a month. "What the fuck?" You remember thinking to yourself as the owner told you the price and the details of the apartment. But it was the cheapest apartment in Metropolis. The only thing you were thankful for was the fact you actually finding a way to actually pay the 'low' rental payment.

Drugs.

Sure it was illegally. But it did come in handy. You don't even remember how old it was. Or when you found it. You just remember one day looking through your things while unpacking and finding a bunch of rolled up, untouched blunts and weed. You had to resist the urge to smoke them immediately, until you thought of the possible money. And you were right.

You made a bunch of money, which you actually managed to save up for future payments, because you knew you couldn't sell weed forever.

A voice snaps you out of your mind. "What the hell are you doin!? You hippin around like an idiot!?" Your angry boss stormed over to you, towering over you, you stepped back, smelling his rancid breath, a mixture of coffee and alcohol.

"Get back to work!"

With a reluctant nod, you continued to mop the floors, your back ached, you wished you could get out of this shitty job.

....

It was a few days later, you were walking to work, absolutely dreading it, Wednesday's were always the worst. The countless customers, the entitled people, the annoying kids and babies. You mentally groaned at the thought.

During your walk, you began to feel uneasy, until you looked to your right, at the street to see Superman KO'ing a villain, you watched with surprise, you had heard about him, but didn't think he was real, you just thought maybe they were faking it for the children, the villains fingers twitched, clicking a button, causing a bomb to go off near you, a car being flown full speed at you, your insticta were telling you to run, but you were frozen, even if you did move, you knew you'd be crushed.

That is until you feel yourself being swept off your feet, you opened your eyes, you heart racing as you realized it was Superman, holding you like a princess. You looked at him with surprise and amazement, until you realized how high they were, you couldn't even see land, just clouds, you yelped out, clinging onto him. "Jesus Christ, do you usually take your survivors this high!?"

You yelled out, still clinging onto him, your eyes locked into the clouds below you, you didn't even register what he said. "No, I don't.." You continued to hold onto him, terrified of being dropped.

You eventually were brought back to your apartment, you sighed, walking into your apartment, until his voice spoke behind you, "So.. Y/n, hm?" You froze, looking over at him, how the dick did he know your name?? You managed to stammer out a response "Uh- yh-yeah.." He smiled softly, stepping closer, "Nice to meet you, Y/n L/n" he extended a hand, "Superman.. Yeah, your quite the figure around here.." You nodded at him, reluctantly taking his hand, you didn't fully believe in superheros, but, with a past like yours, how could you? He chuckled softly, almost like he was reading your mind. "Not a big fan of heros, are you? You shook your head, " No.. I just find it.. Strange.. That someone like you just- comes out and tries to save everyone." You turned around and began to walk away. Until he spoke words that made you freeze. "Y/n N/n M/n L/n, Building Number: 15. Street Name: Lombard Street. Street Address: The Crookedest Street. State: California. City: San Francisco. Post Code: 94133. Dropped out at 15, whole family line deceased. You work at IHop down the next few blocks. You went to the rehabilitation center at the age of 12. Despite promising to get better." He stepped forwards. "You never did. " You turned to stare at him, you began to walk towards him, "I don't know who you are, or what your motives are, but you can't just force yourself into my apartment and speak my past like you know me!" You stood in front of him, lightly shoving him, causing him to not move an inch.

"You don't even know who I am- or my past!"

He only responded with a small smile.

"Sure I do. "

You stared at him, clenching your jaw, "No.. " He just stared at you, you huffed, glancing away before looking back at him "H-how much do you know.. " You asked, to him, you sounded nervous.. Almost.. Scared.. "All of it." He responded, looking down at you softly, you couldn't help but silently swallow the lump on your throat, "So- what- are you gonna turn me in?" You met his gaze for only a second before looking away, he chuckled softly, softly cupping your chin, forcing you to face him.

"Of course not.. They hardly trust me as I am. I doubt they'll believe me if I told them someone like you.. was selling weed.." He softly grabbed her wrist, he looked down at her wrdit, his big hand cupping yours, softly opening your hand to reveal a bag of weed, he met your gaze again before grabbing the weed and dumping it into the bucket of water that was dripping from your ceiling, you froze, you didn't know what to say or do. Even as he softly cupped your face.

"Dont do that ever again. Okay? Your better than that.." He stared intently into her eyes, his gaze soft, he softly cupped her cheek. You were reluctant, but knee you didn't have a choice, plus a part of you couldnt resist his beautiful eyes and.. How on earth did you not notice how attractive this man is!?

"Uhm- I won't do it again.. " you mumbled, he smiled in satisfaction, "Good Girl..." You felt your heart jump at that, he smirked, cupping the back of your neck, he knew how those words got to you.. How whenever your ex would call you that you'd get all weak in the knees.

He softly leaned in, his lips brushing against hers before deepening it, you couldn't help but gasp softly, you couldn't remember the last time you've kissed someone on purpose and not as a bit for a game..

His tongue tangled with yours as he shut the blinds, he backed you up into the counter, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist..

You couldn't hold back the soft moan that escaped your lips, he could feel a growl in his throat, he picked you up, your lips still connected until he found your bedroom..

The next morning was.. Sort of crazy, you woke up to THE Superman in your bed, his arms wrapped around your waist, his hair disheveled, he was completely shirtless. God.. He was one beautiful man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welp I hope you guys enjoyed this, lol, sorry for the cliffhanger. But no worries, Ill pay back soon with something better😉

[hcmoanima]

Having his injuries tended to wasn't pleasant. It wasn't as agonizing as the first time, but it still made him hurt horribly. He was still drained. Even sleeping more or less through the night. He felt... less exhausted. But the pain was actually worse. He remembered once being told that injuries hurt worse the following day. Maybe because the body stops attempting to numb it. He had thought it was just a fable. But he couldn't even see straight right now.

The water was a relief. Takumi drank as much of it as Eito offered. The jacket was helpful, even though Takumi was still fighting off chills. Now that he was fully awake, he could say for a fact that he felt worse. Losing so much blood and being in horrible pain for so long was slowly killing him. His skin was pale and clammy. He felt like not enough air was getting to his lungs. Maybe it was fear at how bad he still felt. Takumi was hydrated and his bandages were fixed. On top of the pain, there was a sort of malaise over him.

His panting breaths were all he could muster at first. He pulled the jacket around his body even more. And again, he truly thought he might not survive this.

"Eito..." He never calls him by his first name. He never has. But it's easier to say. Shorter. "I...I don't know... If I can...." It would be another day of walking. He would try to hold on. He really would. Maybe it was just the pain. But... god... He felt like his spirit was breaking. "I hope... we get there soon... I... I can't..."

*Eito had been asleep until he heard the sound of Takumi's breathing becoming louder and more obnoxious. He assumed the male was awake now and was in pain and so without missing a beat pulled himself up and tended to the injuries. Soon after that he was giving him water. It was going to be a long journey for the both of them since there would be no stopping until the reached their final destination.*

"Next time just say you're awake, I'd rather you do that instead of risking all the process we've made so far. Also you can hold on to that jacket, I won't be needing it any more. We'll be leaving in a moment."

*Truthfully it was just to give them both a few more minutes of rest, not sleep but rather a way to prepare themselves for the journey ahead.*

[earthykinous]

[fragmentedblade]

It's sort of ironic how fans often link the leaf 🍁 to Dan Heng, considering "Feng" means "maple", but it's also so fitting

[chelliebelle]

I DON'T SEE A RING ON YOUR FINGER | n. kento

꩜ SUMMARY . . having just finalized his divorce, a bitter kento tries to find the end to his sorrows in the bottom of a liquor bottle. but when a pretty young thing comes fluttering by his side, he decides there's no better time to get laid than now. ꩜ WORD COUNT . . 4.9k words of flith <333 ꩜ CONTAINS . . smut, divorcee!kento, reader is described as slutty, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and kento is in his late thirties), sexual frustration, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, rough sex, biting, spitting, they're kind of drunk, choking, bruising, pussy drunk!kento ꩜ AUTHOR'S NOTE . . kento's balls practically shriveled during his sexless marriage so best believe he's gonna enjoy himself!!

Nanami Kento had it all. 

A two-story house in the suburbs, a high-paying job, a beautiful wife—he had the perfect life. And damn did he hate every second of it. He hated waking up in that house to greet his nosy neighbors, hated driving to his soul sucking office job, and especially hated going home to his wife every night. She’d leave him leftovers in the fridge and kiss him goodnight before bed, and Kento would stay up every night wondering how to escape this limbo.

Tonight was the first time he felt free in years. Sitting at some shitty bar he can't remember the name of, he absentmindedly fiddled with his wedding band. Months ago, this little piece of metal meant everything. A loving marriage. A promise of a future. A sign of success. Now? It's just a worn-out ring that he can't throw out.

Kento sighed, setting it down on the table in favor of a glass of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat as he took a sip. He was never a drinker, but maybe it was something he repressed over the years. What else had he missed out on while trying to play Mr. Perfect?

Right, sex.

Kento was so obsessed with a picture perfect life that he even married someone he barely knew. She was pretty and nice enough—boring as fuck now that he thought about it—but that was enough for him to get down on one knee and take her down the aisle. What he didn't take into account was his own needs. All a man needed after a long day of work was some pussy, and he was no different. Mrs. Nanami was beautiful, sure, but one hell of a prude. If he was lucky, he got laid about once a month. Even then, she'd just lay stiff on the bed while he fucked her. If Kento didn't see the rise and fall of her chest, he'd assume he was sleeping with a corpse.

This meant that every night after his wife fell asleep, he'd go to his study to jack off to porn on his computer. It was enough for him to go to bed without a raging hard-on, but only having his hand to rub his cock raw all the time took a toll on him. Kento stopped initiating anything with Mrs. Nanami, opting to go straight online whenever he felt his dick twitch. For years, he lived like this.

Wake up, go to work, get home, say goodnight to wife, jack off.

Until a few months ago when his wife said she wanted a divorce. She must've been expecting him to start a fight, because her face fell when Kento nodded without a second thought. It was a long time coming. Sure, he believed he should've been the one to divorce her, but at least he was gonna be free. The days after she moved out was the happiest he had ever been. Waking up in an empty bed and coming home to an even colder bed filled him with a sense of contentment he thought he'd never feel again.

Cheers to being single, he thought to himself as he ordered another drink. As he waited, he couldn't help but sigh. The ink on his divorce papers hadn't even dried yet and he was already thinking of getting his dick wet. Kento hadn't had good pussy since he was twenty. The thought of cheating never even passed his mind during his marriage, opting the company of his own right hand over breaking the promise he made to his wife. Ex-wife.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips, eager to drink himself to sleep, until the scraping of a barstool broke his concentration. "Drinking alone, handsome?"

The voice was soft and feminine, making him turn his head in curiosity. It came from a young girl, probably still in college but wearing a tight dress that looked like it came off a stripper. Kento wasn't a boomer by any means, but he still found himself disapproving how there was more skin than fabric on her body.

Kids these days.

Retrieving his gaze, he let out a quiet hmm before turning back to his drink. That didn't deter you, a girlish giggle leaving your lips as you leaned towards him.

"Seriously, there's no way you're here alone. Is this a set up? Where are the hidden cameras?"

College kids were so weird these days. With a scrunch between his brows, he shakes his head as he lets out a low rumble that makes your stomach twist. "Sorry to disappoint, kid. It's just me, no hidden cameras."

When he turns his head to face you, he's surprised at how close you were to him. Kento could smell the vodka shots off your breath. It reminded him of when he was as young as you were, getting drunk off cheap liquor. A soft pink dusted your cheeks, along with a tipsy smile that made his chest warm for some reason. You seemed to catch him staring, reaching out to rest your hand on his bicep.

"You look like...really put together. Like you do your taxes and sleep early or something."

The choked cough he lets out when you touch him makes the whiskey burn up his nose, hand coming up to cover half his face. Just a friendly gesture from a girl made him act like this? Get it together, Kento. Scoffing, he shrugged off your hand as he looked away. You pout as he does so and the sight fills him with regret immediately. Before he can apologize, you knock your head against his shoulder, nuzzling against him like a spoiled kitten. Guilt pools in the pit of Kento's stomach when his cock twitches in his slacks. Not now!

"Do you have a name, handsome mystery man?" you mumble against his shirt, the action making his loins burn. He seriously considers pushing you away but decides you're probably too drunk to function right now. After a few beats pass, he reluctantly grumbles a "Kento" in response. You're quiet save for a soft hum and Kento is left hating himself for getting hard at how clingy you're being.

Poor girl, you're clinging to someone who you think looks dependable in this shady ass bar. Or at least that's what he thinks until you grab his wrist and bring it up to your face. For a moment, he assumes you're trying to get a look at the Rolex around his wrist, the sleek gold glinting in the air. He has to repress a sigh—until he realizes your attention is actually on his hands. Kento's fingers are lengthy from years of typing at his desk everyday, the digits at least twice as thick as yours. Pretty veins run along his knuckles and up his forearms, disappearing under the fabric of his rolled sleeves. You can't help but sigh, eyes flickering up to his with admiration.

"Your hands are like, really...big."

He immediately pulls his hand away with a bewildered look, clicking his tongue as he adjusted the watch around his wrist, ignoring the whine you let out.

"What does that even mean?" he huffs, his fingers twitching at the traces of heat from your delicate hand grabbing his. You giggle at his reaction, slumping against him until your chest presses against his arm.

"I wonder what you can do with them, m'sure you'd know how to use them good."

Oh. Oh. When his gaze connects with your breasts that are almost spilling out the top of your dress and the sultry look in your eyes, only then does he realize that he's being hit on.

"Look, kid. I'm m—" he catches himself before he finishes his sentence. Fuck, was he going to say he was married? The wedding band in his other hand suddenly felt much heavier and he quickly shoves it in his pocket.

"...much older than you, I'm almost twice your age."

Another mellifluous giggle leaves your lips and Kento has to hold himself back from shutting you up so that blood stops rushing to his dick.

"I think you're flirting with me," you tease, rubbing your chest against his arm. If he focuses, he swears he can feel your hardened buds brushing against him through your dress. Not even wearing a bra, you're begging to be fucked. The thought of being the one to take you home tonight passes his mind but he shoves it away. You're drunk and almost half his age, it'd be wrong. All rational thought comes flying out the window when your hot breath fans against his ear.

"But, I also think you're really hot, Kento. So maybe we can..."

Your words fall on deaf ears as his eyes flutter shut and his head tilts back. Kento was never a religious man, but in this moment he prayed to the gods above for clarity. You were offering yourself up to him like a hog on a silver platter, tied up with an apple in your mouth for him to devour. He couldn't help but imagine your glassy eyes rolling into the back of your head, your sweet lips hanging open when he drives his cock deep into your tight and wet cunt—

Fuck it.

Will he ever get another chance to bring a pretty young thing like you home? The thought is what drives him as he grabs your wrist to drag you out the bar and into his car.

When you approached the hot stranger earlier, you sure didn't expect that it'd end with you moaning with his hand between your legs.

Drunk out of your mind, your gaze had fell onto the brooding man at the bar, eyeing his rippling muscles under his crisp blue shirt. Now that was a back you'd love to scratch up. It didn't take long for you to stumble on your too-high heels towards the blonde man. You were never this forward but something about him had you squeezing your thighs together. Maybe it was the silent classiness that screamed luxury, the heat in his eyes that burned every time his gaze lingered on you—or maybe it was how he practically flung you over his shoulder and ran all the red lights to take you home.

But never in a million years had you expected that man to be this nasty.

His lips tasted like heavy liquor, tongue sloppily tangling with yours as he slammed you against the door, one hand coming up to cup your jaw. You were used to bad french kisses from frat boys, all teeth and smelly breath, but the way Kento was devouring you made you lightheaded. 

"What a dirty mouth, wonder if you pussy's even wetter."

He pushed your legs apart with his foot and let his hand wander up your inner thigh. You gasp when he finds your mound, panties thoroughly soaked. The scoff that leaves his lips makes your cheeks flush. He cooes as he drag a thick digit along the clothed slit of your cunt, swallowing up your weak moans with his mouth.

"I don't even need to prep you," he chuckles, shaking his head as his thumb prods at your bud hidden beneath your folds.

"You have such a smart cunt, s' already drooling for me."

Kento pulls his hand from between your legs and grabs the back of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. Head still spinning from the alcohol, you lose your balance, but the death grip he has keeps you upright as he carries you to his bedroom.

It's scantily decorated and you note that the bed it a bit too big for someone living alone, but you forget all about it when your back hits the plush mattress.

His eyes are wide as if he's trying to commit the sight of you to memory, every exposed sliver of skin and plush flesh permanently burned into his mind. Before you know it, Kento's hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, yanking your dress up like he's unwrapping the first real gift he's ever had. Your slutty dress is long forgotten on his bedroom floor, and fuck, he's hard. Painfully so.

How can't he be when your sweet body is all on display for him?

Kento can't find it in him to give a damn about some dress when all he can see are your perky tits, so soft and malleable. He doesn't spare a moment to admire the view, slapping your breasts till they jiggled deliciously. Before you can whine about how mean he's being, he attacks your tender chest, lips wrapping around the mounds of flesh. It catches you off-guard and you tug at his hair, but he only bites down around your nipple, flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"Don't." 

His voice is a low growl you never heard before, and damn if it didn't make your clit throb with need. Right on cue, he pries your legs apart and gets on his knees between them, mouth never leaving your breast. The way his hips grind against you is vicious, as if he's been waiting years for this. Which, in a way, he has. Kento has spent too many nights in his cold bed, jerking off to the thought of someone warm beneath him. Now that he has it? Best believe he's not letting you go tonight.

Your heat seeps through the fabric of your underwear and he can tell that you're making a mess all over the front of his slacks, his bulge covered in your slick. Clicking his tongue, he pushes your knees against your chest to come face-to-face with your clothed core. His thumb tugs at the lace of your panties, lifting your hips to slide it over your ass and letting the flimsy fabric dangle on your ankle.

He intended to teach you a lesson, but his brain short-circuits when he sees your weeping cunt. Your chubby lips were glistening with slick from his teasing, that pretty clit hidden under your swollen folds. Kento hasn't had a taste of pussy in years, so he can't resist leaning forward to roll his tongue against your slit.

Immediately he's gone.

He laps at you like a man starved, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you spread open for him. Mrs. Nanami was never this wet for him and it had messed with his confidence for a while, but your sweetness was all it took to bring him back. His cock twitches at the sight of you writhing under him, the front of his slacks now completely stained with precum. Kento nearly forgot to breathe with how absorbed he was in your pussy.

“You're like a piece of candy,” he mouths against your sensitive cunt, pushing the tip of his tongue into your warm entrance. “So sweet, can eat you up all night.”

Your thighs tremble and clamp around his head, the action only pushing him closer against your waiting heat, nose bumping against your clit. Kento moaned as he flattened his warm tongue against you, making out with your cunt with more fervor than when he had kissed you. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Kento completely forgets about his aching hard-on, hips instinctively rutting against the mattress with every swipe of his tongue. Your lips were so puffy that he couldn't resist biting down, latching his lips onto your neglected bud and sucking hard.

You almost cry out at the sensation, reaching your hand down to pull at his hair as you thrash under him, feeling your thighs quiver. "S'too much! Gonna make me come—"

SMACK.

His palm had landed flat on your cunt.

"None of that. You wanted my attention, now take it." 

The mean rumble of his voice along with the harsh slap against your sensitive heat sent you over the edge, coming onto Kento's face as your back arched off the bed. He was more than eager, lips hanging open as he swallowed up every drop of your sweetness.

Like heaven on his tongue.

Your taste was addictive, making him groan with every bob of his Adam's apple. Kento slurps up all the wetness he can get, chin glistening with your essence once he pulls away. The sudden orgasm had you panting, only coming back to your senses when you heard the sound of a belt buckle hitting the floor, lifting your head up at the exact moment Kento tugged his ruined boxers down.

His heavy cock slapped against his sweaty washboard abs, leaking onto his abdomen. You had seen enough subpar dicks in your life to know that he was big, the idea of it stretching you open making your pussy drool. Pretty veins ran along the base, leading up to his thick tip that was already dribbling pearls. It was an angry red, sensitive from rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You could've sworn his cock twitched when his eyes locked with yours.

He reluctantly rolls on a condom, mumbling something under his breath as he strains against the pink rubber. Should just fuck this pussy raw. Luckily, he still had enough common sense to stop him from begging you to let him go in without protection. Kento grabs your thighs, hefty length dragging down your slit as he positioned himself between your legs. With his cock resting on your mound, you can tell he's gonna be so deep in your tummy that you'll feel him tomorrow.

“I'll make sure of it, pretty girl,” he chuckles, slapping his member against your puffy clit.

Did you actually say that out loud—?

Your cheeks puffed up at his words, an embarassed flush on your face at your little slip-up. He's so heavy between your legs that you wonder how he'll even fit. Kento's hand reaches to pull you flush against him by the ankle, propping your leg up his shoulder, groaning as his cock dragged between your lips.

"You're so wet," he muses, pumping himself lazily before he lined himself up your entrance. "Bet you're gonna take me like a good girl, hmm?"

You gasp when he pushes his flushed cockhead between your swollen folds, struggling past tight rings of muscle. So tight. Fuck, he should've known—you were just a little brat who thought she could handle him. He hisses as your walls clamp down around his tip, nails digging into your hips as he tries to catch his breath. 

"Loosen up, sweetheart. You're gonna snap off my dick."

Kento stayed like that, tip twitching inside your warm pussy, before he pushes forward once more. He's bigger than any cock you've taken before. Unprepared for the stretch, your brows knit together when he bullies his way into your cunt. He barely makes it a few inches in before your eyes start to water. Your insides were being stuffed to the brim. You take a deep breath, weakly shaking your head as your thighs tremble.

"K-Kento, please—" Please? 

You didn't even know what you were begging for, did you? How cute. With a sigh, he pulls out from the comfort of your pussy. You let out a sigh of relief, before a warm liquid hit your bare lips. With the viscosity dribbling between your folds, you realized that was Kento's spit. Your gaze flickered up towards him but he focused on other things—like the way your clit twitched when his saliva hit the neglected bud. Eyes dark and brows knitted, he reached down to thumb at your sensitive nub, a choked moan leaving your lips.

"Ease up, that's right," he praised, using the wetness to roll his hips forward. 

Your walls fluttered around him, your moans egging him on as he continued to feed you more of his monster cock. Kento never needed this amount of prep with Mrs. Nanami, considering she always seemed so...bored. He was even beginning to think he was bad at sex! But the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head told him all he needed to know. A low groan rumbled in his chest when he finally bottomed out, his tip kissing your cervix. After so long with only his hand as company, he worried he'd come the second he was inside you. The way you were squeezing his dick didn't help either. Kento swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths as he let you adjust to his size.

"How are you so tight?" 

When his panting reached your ears, you let out a slurred mumble, eyes unfocused as you tried to look up. He leaned down, forehead resting against yours to regain his composure. Body covering yours, he only buried himself deeper all the way to the hilt. It was like your mind went blank.

"Ngh—you're just too big!" you managed to shout, eyes glassy from how he kept nudging against your womb.

That was all it took for Kento to lose his mind.

Locking an arm around your leg, he fucked into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his hips snapped forward. His pace was merciless, knocking the breath out of your lungs with every mean thrust. 

"Yeah? How deep am I?" he growled, his grip on your waist bruising.

 All the way in my tummy, you try to say, but you were too fucked out to answer. Just a few thrusts had you dumb on his cock, glossy lips hanging open weakly. The sight makes Kento chuckle, holding onto your thighs as his skin smacked against yours.

It had been years since he had been in a pussy this wet and eager for him. He was in love with your cunt. The slickness as he slid past your folds, the way your walls tried to milk him—but the cock drunk look in your eyes was the cherry on top. Kento turns his head to the side, pressing kisses onto your calf as he fucked you. 

Come back, pretty girl.

When he notices your lack of response, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, emphasized with a harsh thrust that made you scream. "Kento, slow down," you cry out, heat churning in your belly from the cruel pistoning of his hips.

He only chuckles, shaking his head before he sped up his pace. The shocked look in your eyes made him reach down to rub tight circles on your clit for relief. Loud squelches and the slapping of skin-on-skin filled the air, the room reeking of sweat and sex. Kento's eyes locked on the way your ass bounced back against his pelvis with every thrust, cock twitching as he thought of taking you from behind. He continued to jackhammer into you, strings of profanities leaving his lips. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. As you mumbled incoherently on the verge of tears, a hand wrapped around your throat.

"Shh. Your sweet pussy's talkin' to me," he tuts, squeezing your throat to shut you up. 

His hand completely engulfed your neck, rough palm pressed tightly against your pulse. Gasping for breath, you could feel your head spin from the lack of air. You rake your nails along his back, digging crescents into his skin to try and make him let go. Kento hissed at the sensation, cockhead slamming hard against your g-spot. It was too much—the delicious stretch of his cock, the way his tip kissed your gummy insides with every thrust, his hand around your throat—the knot in your stomach snapped. Even when you tried to push the heat down, your climax ripped through you like white lightning. 

Your back arched off the bed, cursing out Kento's name as your orgasm shook through your body. The man nearly collapsed on top of you, a sharp groan leaving his lips as your walls clamped down and milked his cock so suddenly. His grip on your throat loosens and you thrash under him. 

You might die from how good he's dicking you down. 

Rolling onto your stomach, you stumble as you get on your hands and knees to try and crawl off the bed. A pair of rough hands grab onto your waist, followed by heavy panting that makes your blood run cold.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Kento spits, dragging you back against him. 

He'd be damned if he let the first good pussy he's had in years get away. Even when you try to thrash and break free, your body is too weak from coming so hard! His palm lands a harsh smack against your ass, your arms collapsing under your body as you cried out. Kento pushed your head down into the pillows, propping you up by the back of your knees. Face down, ass up. The sight of you so vulnerable with your glistening pussy on display made him lick his lips, quickly positioning himself behind you. 

"Naughty girl, trying to run away from me," he tuts, swiping his tip up and down your creamy folds.

As punishment, he reached down to pinch your clit, earning a choked sob from you. He rolled the bud between his fingers, resting his free hand on the plush of your ass. Cock throbbing for release, he buried himself to the hilt in one thrust, setting up a mean pace immediately.

Yep, might die from this dick. 

Every slam of his hips against yours had you sobbing into the pillows, the fabric damp with your salty tears. Your body was still reeling from your multiple orgasms, cunt fluttering around him. Even if it was too much, Kento was fucking you so good your insides had molded to every ridge and vein of his cock. Your tits jiggled with every thrust and he wasted no time in grabbing your hefty breasts, playing with your soft nipples. He buried his head in the tender area where your neck and shoulders connected, groaning against you. 

Kento was getting close, you could tell from how frantically he rutted into you. His cock throbbed inside you, pulsing against your gummy walls. You couldn't resist the urge to push your ass back into him, making his dick hit even deeper inside you. You were half sure he was bulging through your tummy at this point. The action made him suck in shallow breaths through his teeth, keeping a death grip on your ass as he bulllied your cunt.

"Fuuuck, I'm gonna come," he groans into your shoulder.

His face scrunched up in pleasure, panting heavily into your skin as he buried his cock deeper and deeper. Seeing such a composed man this broken made your cheeks flush. Your walls were heavenly, every clench pushing him closer to the edge. 

Screw his hand. Coming from your pussy squeezing him was better that jacking off to any porno he could watch online. 

With a strangled moan, Kento shot thick spurts of cum into the condom, as if he hadn't finished in years. He collapsed on top of you, the orgasm rendering him unable to even hold himself up anymore. It was like losing his virginity all over again. You whine as the rubber began to fill up with his load, heavy in your pussy. After a few moments to catch your breath, you tried to push yourself off him, worried he'd spill into you.

"We should probably take that off—" 

Kento shut you up immediately, grabbing your waist to drag your hips back on top of him. Now straddling his lap, his still hard cock prodded new places you had never even touched before, a pathetic moan leaving your lips. His blonde hair was messy and dripping with sweat, eyes glazed over as his cheeks flushed. You felt him twitch inside you when he met your gaze, the same fucked-out look in both your eyes. He definitely wasn't done with you yet.

"It's only midnight, sweetheart."

You'd be lucky to come out of here alive.

You spent the rest of the night going several rounds, trying every position possible before collapsing from exhaustion. What's for sure—sex would never be the same ever again. How could you go back to one night stands with shitty frat bros when an older man just gave you the dicking down of your life? 

The next morning, you roll on your side to see Kento sitting at the edge of the bed. His bare back was wrecked, littered with vicious nail marks and lipstick stains. You chew on your bottom lip, pulling the duvet over your chest. 

"Are we gonna see each other again?" you croak, voice hoarse from last night.

The muscles in his back tensed at your words. Kento didn't want to see the hickeys and bruises on your skin, undeniable marks of the years of frustration he took out on you. He actually slept with a girl almost half his age right after getting divorced.

Talk about issues. 

Though his stomach churned with guilt, the memories of last night flashed through his mind. How eager you were for him, your sopping cunt, your sweet whines. He was even starting to imagine what it'd be like to sink into you raw.

He couldn't deny how addicted he was to your body. Doing this once was one thing, but agreeing to meet you again? Kento let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Let me check my schedule, pretty girl."

TAGS: @lucakaneshiroswife @susanhill @hana-patata @kenzieluvsnanami @luvingmyships @sutaagaaru @secretfoxmaker @savannaounana @ilyjupit3r @h4n1vs @supernatrualqueen @mayhaps-nerd @1ennj4 @jiwooahae @gojomaki @raenfall562 @l0v3rgirl-owo @levisjinchuriki @yourgirljasmine5 @nanamiscsleeve @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jjkmenluver @vmpireslut @namorafushiguro @cindyneko-strider @zeunys @t4matar @c0ckdrunkk @mortallyshadysoul @red-writes @fferairy @vipblinkagase1111 @evieloves @jdopeisdope @cherryreads-blog @itsinherited @sparklyhologramstarfish @hannahhmelv @umiwu @sugurusjaz @miguelsonlywife @lyraa06 @illumissei @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @celestialhvns @nanamisd0ll @blushedcheri @grr457 @yogichi @kaislashes @briefrebelfanalmond @fictionalytmenhavemyheart @kekeanna266 @airandyeah @hollowwolf22 @ssstingrayyyyyyyy

[sabrondabrainrot]

Ok reading the tags

I do agree so much with Sun testing Moon. I have to add since coming back what promise has Moon full on kept?

I can't name one thing he honored.

It's like he can spew out promises like they're water, flowing between his fingers. Moon acts like he's 'oh so smart' but he's so insecure about his own intelligence. I still remember how Sun used to praise every single good thing about his brother he loved so much at the start of the show.

And Moon, after all this time, still can't compliment Sun without an extra backhanded insult.

I don't hate Moon at all but I have such a hard time understanding how can he just repeat "I can't understand. I don't understand him. I'll never understand what he thinks" when people who aren't Sun are directly telling him over and over and over again what he is doing is wrong.

Why is it so hard to understand that Sun is hurt? He's justifiably hurt?

And the worst part, Sun just has this disappointed resigned air to him. I feel like he's lashing out at others unexpectedly (very valid lash out imo) and right now I think he's going to just keep escalating things until Moon gives a real apology.

Worst part is I desperately want Sun to not forgive him. Moon has to learn.

The sad thing? Sun gave him so many chances.

Do we remember the Cosmos-Sun computer prank and Moon used the kill code voice on Sun? He broke a promise then and Sun... He just moved on.

When Sun had to kill Nexus, in that very episode Moon promised Sun he'd stay with him and they would talk. He bailed on that the second they got home.

He saw Sun as this broken thing and didn't care to try and just there for him, not until everyone kicked him in the pants

When Nexus came back Moon did stuff without Sun again. He came up with plans and Sun wasn't included at all. That's why Sun had to snatch the remote. No one even considered Sun seeing Nexus off.

Then the move itself ... Moon made so many decisions on Sun's behalf without consulting him. Sun was completely clueless and everything.

How about recently too, Moon has a promise to not do the shady stuff and Sun laughably fast catches him. He was so betrayed then.

Let's add to novafrost incident too. Sun woke up his body being modified against his consent and no one thought that was a problem.

I feel like not only with Moon, I think Suns trust in others is just .. Gone

I think Moon breaking yet another promise might have broken something inside of Sun and he's done asking Moon to be a brother.

There's more but I must go to bed.

No one should have to beg to be treated like an equal.

Anyone else concerned how everyone in the family just... Seems on edge on top of the twins fighting?

Potentially hot take, but I'm on Sun's side with this.

Yeah, he's being petty but what other avenue is there? What other way can he get the point across?

Let's say he tries other methods to convey to Moon how the secret-keeping and outright lying made him feel. This is, of course, glossing over all of the core, formative experiences he has had with Moon prior to the reset and subsequent resurrection.

Let's say Sun talks it out, regarding his emotions. Moon would loop it back to logic, and directly or not, would wind up invalidating Sun's feelings bc Sun's emotional and Moon isn't "good at that" since his are locked up.

Or maybe Sun could have had a big fight about it that he initiated. And that would have been exactly what Moon was expecting, a big blow out bc Sun only has some of the information and "this is exactly what I was trying to avoid" . All this is to imply, of course, that there's no other complications from previous experience where Sun crashed out and, yk, someone he loved was severely harmed if not outright killed as a result. :)

Oh, maybe we could even explore if Sun just... turned the other cheek. It's not like that promise was the core foundation of Moon being let back into his life. Not like it was a hard boundary for Sun, or if it was, it's totally negotiable for the right reasons. :)) let's say Sun just rolls with it. And what does that do? It sets a precedence. A dangerous precedence that could very quickly and very easily become incidental alienation, which... honestly, would land everyone in a similar situation as years ago with far more potential for things going horribly wrong.

This is my own personal opinion, borne of my own experiences as well here when I say this - Sun is being petty, but I wholeheartedly agree with it. Sometimes, you have to BE PETTY. Sometimes you need to POKE THE DAMN BEAR to make it turn around and SEE WHAT'S THERE. I think Sun did the safest and most effective thing in that situation to get his point across because it was an awful situation with No Good Options.

It's not about the promise itself - it's about the inability to see the impact of breaking it, as well as the lack of seeing things from another point of view.

[hauntingblue]

Oh my god why........ why would someone do this omg.... feminism would have saved them all... lesbianism too...

[frid4y]

you always looked past that quiet boy in your classes, occasionally sparing him a glance. that was until he became your partner for a project in a random class. surprisingly, he was friendlier than his appearance. the slight, agitated face he always had gone the moment you spoke, and you learned his name was suguru.

the long nights studying in the library & putting together your project helped blossom a friendship. what you only ever saw the relationship as. sure, he was really good-looking, but he's just your friend, right? along with your hunch that he's inexperienced, it's just the vibe he gives off. he probably wouldn't know what to do if he saw a naked girl in real life. right?

wrong. so painfully wrong. what originally was hanging out in your dorm room turned into suguru thrusting into your dripping cunt from behind, his hand pushing your head down into the pillow, which is stained messily with mascara and tears.

"you gotta be quiet, baby… wouldn't want anyone to hear how much you fucking love taking my cock, would we?" you only manage to let out a muffled moan, making him let out a small hum before your head is pulled up from the pillow and his fingers grip your hair.

two sharp smacks are delivered to your ass, and your lips part to let out a strangled gasp. suguru leans forward and captures your lips in a messy kiss, the sound blending in with the harsh noises of you being fucked stupid on his dick. you can't even remember how this happened. you guys were laughing about something, and suddenly you were being split open by his cock.

you want to let out your moans so bad. desperately beg for him to fuck you harder and deeper. but he's right, you gotta be quiet, these walls are thin. the whole floor doesn't need to know how much of a slut you were. or how bad you're clawing at the sheets of your bed, whining for suguru's cock like you've been starved.

suguru's grip on your hair loosens slightly as he begins to lose himself in the feeling of your pussy enveloping his cock, the feeling of your walls clenching around him being the source of his groans and small whimpers.

your mind and body register that you're getting closer, and you're now pleading for suguru to keep going, not caring how loud you are anymore. it just feels so good, and you just can't contain your moans anymore. the louder you get, the more it spurs him on to help you cum all over his cock. the little words of encouragement, mixed in with degrading names. it was just the perfect touch to make your orgasm hit you harder than ever.

suguru rubs your hip soothingly as your body convulses after that intense climax. "you did so fucking good… but i know this pussy can give me one more, can't she? now turn over, i wanna see your pretty little face while you're being a good little cumdump."

[lxvvie]

Simon doesn't think he's ever tasted something so good in his fuckin' life before.

He didn't know what he was in for this time when he got back from deployment, and nicotine and whiskey ain't got shit on this. Poor bastard can't remember the last time he had something so good invade his senses like this.

You said you had a treat for him, made him lay down, and promptly sat on his face, and Simon was fuckin' gone. Don't know what the fuck possessed him but he took one whiff and was instantly hooked.

Simon feasted on your cunt like a man starved. Tongue, lips, fingers, you name it. Anything to get his fix, anything to make you moan.

Anything to make you cum.

Didn't let up for shit, not even to breathe, and when you voiced your concern while whimpering and trembling, Simon didn't give a fuck and still continued to love on your pretty cunt because where the bloody fuck are you going?

Shut up. Shut the hell up and let him make you cum, sweetheart.

Actions have consequences. Shouldn't have made him feel so bloody good, shouldn't have poked at the beast, and he'd be damned if he didn't think this was the best post-deployment gift he's ever gotten. Better than the nicotine high or occasional pity wank.

Fuck, it's been so long and he's absolutely disgusting about it.

And Simon's aware of it all, the way his cock is so hard it's bloody painful and leaking in his pants, the way you're grinding on his face, smothering it and fucking his mouth (don't you dare stop, either), and how his everything is consumed by you. You coat his stubble, fill his nostrils up with your scent, his tastebuds are fired up—bloody hell, need he explain more?

Simon could die a happy man right now, and what would his gravestone say? Here Lies Simon Riley, Died Eating Cunt.

He'd chuckle if he wasn't too busy at the moment. Shit, he probably did if the way you're moaning is any indication. That felt good, didn't it, sweetheart?

It's your turn now to say his name like a prayer and believe in him just as he believes in you.

And it's the best fucking thing to ever bless his ears.

--

Turning Simon Out: Part I and Part II.

[kianamaiart]

"Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want to be a Magical Girl" Bios!

NAME: Aika (she/her) AGE: 15 Main Protagonist CV: Anairis Quiñones

BIO:

Aika is an easily excitable and energetic girl. She's generally optimistic and very friendly. She's always eager to try new things as long as it's not her fulltime job of being a magical girl.

As soon as her magical girl duties are brought into the picture, her demeanor changes. She checks out, and often looks for the quickest solution to solve the issue. No flashy transformations and special moves here. She's good with a metal baseball bat or a rocket launcher.

All Aika wants is to live a normal life, make friends and go to school. Unfortunately, like every main protagonist, trouble manages to follow her wherever she goes.

___________________________________

NAME: Zira (she/they) AGE: 16 Love Interest Best Friend CV: Bennett Abara

BIO:

Zira is everything Aika wants to be. Painfully average, under the radar and a self proclaimed loser.

She's a smart girl but has a hard time applying herself. Instead of paying attention in school, and doing extracurriculars, Zira would much rather be reading her favorite magical girl manga "Moon Sailor".

After Aika forces her friendship upon them, Zira now has to tag along on all of Aika's escapades and experiences new things. Ew. However, they admire Aika deeply and admire her even more after Aika's magical secret comes to light.

___________________________________

NAME: Hoshi (any/they/them) AGE: unknown Magical Sidekick CV: Christine Marie Cabanos

BIO:

Hoshi is a magical star being sent to find the chosen one. They made a great choice with Aika, as she's amazing at her job. The only issue is she hates it and is often trying to dodge responsibilities (and Hoshi).

When Aika first started, and still had her heart in it, Hoshi was definitely more neurotic and acted as your typical mentor/magical sidekick. But over time, they gave up on trying to tell Aika what to do and also became a little more apathetic. Aika was getting the job done at least, so what's the problem?

Hoshi still has to make sure Aika doesn't completely give up on being the Star Guardian: Guardian of the Stars, which Aika finds annoying.

___________________________________

NAME: Eclipse (he/him) AGE: 15 Minor Antagonist CV: Aleks Le

BIO:

Eclipse is a flamboyant and theatrical individual whose showmanship is out of this world. He refers to himself as

"Eclipse: Servant of Darkness".

He was a D-list antagonist that Aika and her team would fight on occasion. Mostly just saving citizens from him being a nuisance. Eclipse has deluded himself into thinking that he's Aika's rival, main antagonist and love interest. Their love is simply forbidden as he's chosen the path of darkness and her, the light.

After Aika ran away, he managed to find her again. However this time he actually has powers??? Where did those come from? It's as if he's made a deal with darkness itself.

___________________________________

NAME: Lady DeVoid (she/her) AGE: Old Main Antagonist/Big Bad CV: Shara Kirby

BIO:

Lady DeVoid is darkness itself. She's a mysterious being with an incomprehensible amount of power. Power that is currently weakened and that she actually has no idea how to use. She can't seem to remember for some reason...

All she knows is that a long time ago she was defeated and banished by a Star Guardian and that she now wants revenge. While unable to use her powers, she finds that she can pass them on to her new lackey, Eclipse. He's somehow able to use them better than she can right now.

With his help, she hopes to destroy the Star Guardian once and for all.

___________________________________

NAME: Miss (she/her) AGE: 39 Side Character CV: Michele Knotz

BIO:

Miss is Aika and Zira's very tired teacher. Looking at her, you might assume she hates her job, but it's quite the opposite. She pours everything into her work and into her students, leaving very little time for her personal life.

She's recently started trying to get it together (after her ex-wife left her) but is still struggling to find that work-life balance.

Prior to Aika enrolling, Miss was Zira's only friend at school and, though she'd never admit it, Zira's probably the closest thing she has to a friend also (oof). She's subsequently become a secret Moon Sailor fan too.

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ baby daddy!satoru who wants needs you back.

in fact, you should've known he was playing a game the instant that text blinked onto your screen: pick your daughter up from his place, not school. a casual oops, totally forgot it was your day! that sent a shiver of unease down your spine.

what choice did you really have? the entire drive to that too-familiar house, your nerves were a tangled mess. pulling into the driveway, parking crookedly in your haste, the only thing screaming in your head was this used to be ours.

this small, unassuming house, a world away from the sterile grandeur of his old penthouse. the first grand gesture of your marriage had been this new place.

"the bigger the house," satoru had murmured against your bare skin that first night, "the further i'd have to be from you." so, your mornings had begun with tangled limbs and hurried kisses, and your evenings had ended in the same breathless way.

it had been the kind of dizzying happiness you foolishly thought would last forever. but then the cracks had started to show – the endless work trips, the hollow promises of things changing. he had gotten better, ironically, after the papers were signed.

satoru stood in the doorway, that infuriatingly charming, utterly knowing smirk plastered across his face. your gaze darted around the living room, a quick, almost desperate search. "where's she?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

his reply was a casual flick of his wrist. "oh, she's at a friend's."

a harsh scoff escaped you. arms crossed tight against your chest, you scoffed, "what? why? i drove all the way out here!"

"you were coming anyway," he purred, those soft puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours. "i can bring her back later. thought we could, you know… catch up."

"catch up?" you repeated, incredulous. "are you serious right now? we're not catching up, satoru. we're divorced."

but those eyes. they always had been your undoing. and somehow, against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing to this ridiculous "catch-up." you'd pictured awkward small talk over lukewarm tea, maybe a stale cookie.

not this. not being bent in a cruel mating-press, his body a brutal, insistent press against yours, fucking you with a desperate hunger that stole your breath and any semblance of rational thought.

"god, it's been so fucking lo- long since i felt this," he grunted, his hips slamming into you with a possessive force that made you cry out. "this tight little cunt clenching - shit - around me like that."

"ah, 'toru," you gasped, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, clinging on for dear life.

"been even longer si- since i heard you say my name like that." his sweaty bangs were plastered to his forehead, a flush creeping up his neck. his pace was relentless, each thrust deeper, harder, a raw, primal need driving him. he hadn't touched anyone since you, didn't want to.

tears streamed down your face, a messy mix of pain and something dangerously close to pleasure. and that bastard, your soon-to-be-not-ex-husband-anymore, thought you looked beautiful. his thick cock stretched you, filled you completely, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

"did you miss this, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with lust. "because i fucking did. bet- bet no one else makes you feel like this."

a choked whine escaped you as his teeth sank into your shoulder, a stinging sensation hitting. you can't think of a response, literally. you can't even think of your own name - you can't remember.

all that mattered was the way he was making you feel, the dizzying spiral of sensation. and in the name of "catching up," he makes you come, at least half a dozen shattering orgasms ripping through you before he finally relented, burying his face in the space between your tits.

he looked up at you, panting, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "so… about moving back in?"

fuck those puppy-dog eyes.

[firingstars]

preciously mine

bucky barnes x medic!reader

summary: based on this request — recruited by the falcon himself and dragged out of your early retirement, you've started to work for the avengers as their one and only medic to keep them functioning and working after each and every mission. after a mission gone wrong, bucky barnes is forced to acknowledge your presence and finally seek out your assistance. after that? it's like the man can't leave you alone.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, handjob, oral (f receiving), makeout sesh, slight body worship, light choking, no use of y/n, language, fluff, brief angst, descriptions of injury, flashbacks of ptsd/trauma for reader, bucky's flirting in strange ways, reader is lowk horny, pet names (sweetheart, doll, soldier, sarge)

word count: 16k

a/n: i said i would post this yesterday...... i thought it was in the queue.......... my bad everyone. here it is now. also this was much longer than i intended it to be whoops

masterlist | bonus headcanon

Sterile antiseptic and latex is all you can smell right now as you work on sewing shut the body in front of you. You’d already followed out the previous steps– things that were automatic to your process. The bleeding had already been taken care of, and you were fine to continue on with the rest of your procedure. The wound was cleaned, the site was numbed, and you had the proper tools in hand to start your suturing. 

Your hands were smooth, your movements were precise– there’s no sweat coming off your brow. There’s nothing to be worried about.

“You know,” Sam murmured beneath you, “it would’ve been real nice if you were this calm back when we were on the field in Afghanistan.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at him. “I was a rookie back then. So were you. Now shut up before I ‘accidentally’ stab you with this needle the wrong way, just like the old days.”

“That’s cold,” he whispered, but there’s a smile playing on his lips despite the pain that he’s in– a good sign. There’s some color that’s returned to his face now, and his breathing had finally evened out from how it was when he was first brought to your table. 

You finished out your work on his torso, and bandaged him up. You could go into a long winded spiel on infection, and how he needs to keep the wound area clean to make sure that he doesn’t get sick otherwise he’ll have to come see you, but one look at Sam’s face tells you that you don’t even need to say it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he brushed off, carefully rolling over to his side to push himself off the table. You cringed slightly at the way he sat up– he’ll pop his stitches at this rate. “I know. You talked my ear off for years.”

“And here I thought, you never listened,” you scoffed, beginning to clean up the area around you.

“Oh, I don’t. I just let you think I do.”

You fight back the desire to roll your eyes at him, and he laughed– or at least he attempted to. Sam’s hand flies to his side, and he groans in pain. Instant karma. The numbing injection could only do so much for the pain, after all.

“Want me to prescribe you some painkillers?” you offered, a hum on your lips.

“Fuck you.”

You grinned, already pulling out a bottle from the medication cabinet to toss over to him. He catches it, obviously, but if he was who he was a few years ago? His reflexes wouldn’t have been this sharp. Sam had come a long way since the Air Force, and you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t proud of him.

Hell, you had come a long way from the Air Force.

You still remembered when he knocked on your door, and asked you if you wanted to join the Avengers initiative. You laughed in his fucking face, thinking that it was a joke– that it was just some funny opener that he was hitting you with after not seeing you for a while to make you smile after your shared grief of losing Riley. But Sam didn’t laugh. 

He said they needed someone reliable, a good medic on the team to patch them up after their missions— told you it was too much work and money to keep flying doctors into the country from other parts of the world. 

You had the same experience that Sam did, which was what he used to argue with you that you were more than qualified to join this team. You couldn’t really say anything against him when he brought up your history together. The two of you had been hand chosen straight out of basic training for the Falcon initiative, which was covered up to be known as the pararescue team that served two tours. 

Sam spent two weeks knocking on your door daily— sometimes multiple times a day. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was begging you to join him, to come back and fight beside him like you once did.  

You told him that you didn’t know if you were worthy of being an Avenger– not after what happened all those years ago. You couldn’t even save the people that you were supposed to protect during the war overseas. How were you supposed to protect the entire world?

So, you compromised. You would be their medic, just like he was asking you to do– but you didn’t want to necessarily join the Avengers in the way that he was doing it. You would keep up with the training to keep your body in shape if they really needed you– but you told Sam that you couldn’t live with yourself again if you lost someone right in front of you on the field. 

He understood. So, saving the world became his thing, while saving the Avengers’ lives became yours.

More times than not, you still ended up joining the Avengers on their longer missions away from the base. You wouldn’t necessarily join them on the ground, but you would stay back on the jet. You would keep an eye on the monitors that tracked each and every single one of their vitals, making sure that none of them entered dangerous territories of stress levels or suddenly passed out somewhere without anyone knowing. 

You were also there as their emergency evac if it was ever needed. You had military experience on the field, but Natasha helped train you to move more stealthily so that you could get across a battlefield without anyone noticing. 

When things were said and done, and if everything went miraculously well, all you had to do at the end of missions was just check up on everyone. Do quick, fine tune-ups, to make sure that everyone was alright– that they were cleared for the next mission without any concussions or any other traumatic brain injuries that would put them out of work for a couple of weeks. 

You’d treated almost every single one of the Avengers at one point. 

Shit– you’d become somewhat of a mechanic and a scientist overnight for what you had to do for these guys. After all– they weren’t fully human.

Steve was the first one to trust you with a more interesting question based on his genetic code. You should’ve expected it, honestly– Steve was the closest to Sam, and Sam constantly sang your praises to anyone that would listen.

“The serum that I was given– I don’t know if you know too much about it,” Steve said with a sigh as you patched up a gash on his arm.

“I’m kinda aware of it,” you hummed. “What’s going on?”

“Well, it’s supposed to accelerate my healing,” he said slowly, “but I feel like my muscles are still too tense these days? Like knots are forming all over my back– I think it’s affecting how I move on missions.”

You paused at his words, nodding slowly. You finished up on his arm before going around behind him, slowly running your hands around his back before sucking in a deep breath. 

“You do have some muscle tension,” you murmured softly. “Do you ever get massages? I think it might help.”

“I didn’t think super soldiers need massages.”

Your hands stopped their examination, and you stared at the back of his head, blinking at him. You let out a slow, deep breath before closing your eyes, taking a moment to calm yourself down. 

“Steve… You’re still human. You know that right? Your body will still hold tension and trauma whether you like it or not,” you said slowly.

“... Ah.”

You made Steve come back to your lab once a week so you could bully the knots out of his back, digging your elbows into his muscles until there was nothing left that could cause him discomfort. Then, you made him go see a massage therapist once a month. 

After that, you studied more of his mannerisms. You took note of how long his body healed compared to a regular human, and how fast he could run a mile– how much food he ate compared to Sam. You were studying everything about this enhanced human’s biology in case he came to you with something else.

Except the next person that came to you was Rhodey. Asking if you could help him out with his prosthetic because it wasn’t working properly and he wasn’t able to walk like he usually was.

“I’m not a mechanic,” you said slowly.

“Weren’t you in the Air Force?”

“Yes, but–”

“With Sam?”

“I mean–”

“Then you should have some basic understanding, right?”

“Rhodey–”

“Tony’s not here. You’re the closest help I can get, please.”

You prayed to every God out there that you didn’t fuck up the delicate technology of his metal braces. Honestly– this was more stressful than any other life saving technique that you had to do on the field. 

That night, you studied Stark’s machinery. You opened up his manuscripts and went through his lab. You made his stupid A.I. walk you through everything to help you out with the things that you couldn’t wrap your head around– and when Tony came back from wherever he went? You slammed his blueprints in front of him and made him explain.

That man was a little too excited to talk your ear off. 

Just when you thought that you had finally gotten a break, you had another visitor. One that made your blood run cold when you saw her waiting for you outside your med bay. Still, you invited her inside and asked her what you could do to help her. 

“Sometimes I feel a burning sensation under my skin," Wanda told you as she sat on your examination table. “Do you know what causes that?”

You could only stare at her blankly, a million different thoughts racing through your head. 

NO! you want to scream at her. I DON’T KNOW!!

Instead, you give her a smile and nod in understanding. “Does it feel like that right now?”

“Not right now, no.”

“Is it okay if I take a sample of your blood?” you asked, already moving towards your supplies. “And the next time you feel that burning sensation, come to me immediately so I can take another sample. I want to compare the two different blood samples to see if there’s a difference.”

Wanda nodded like you had somehow made a dent in cracking the code towards her existence as an enhanced individual– but you had no idea what you were doing past rubbing an alcohol wipe on the inside of her elbow and wrapping the tourniquet around her bicep.

Strangely enough– there was a difference in her blood. 

“Overuse,” you told her, exhaustion thick in your voice. “Your powers are burning into your blood, and mixing into your bloodstream. You’re basically ripping your blood cells apart. You need to be more careful, or just get a better grasp on your powers. Try to train more and increase your endurance.”

The only person that you have not had the pleasure of helping?

Sergeant James Barnes.

Part of you believed that he didn’t even know you existed. In fact, if it wasn’t for his curt nods of dismissal when you tried to check him over after missions, then you would’ve completely assumed that he didn’t even know that you were around. 

Bucky had been injured. More than once. You’d seen him walk onto the jet before, limping, holding onto his side, and closing his eyes while trying to pretend that everything was alright. Each time– he denied your help. Well, he didn’t even deny it. He didn’t even talk to you. He actively avoided your gaze, and only nodded at you if it was unavoidable.

You would’ve thought that you had done something to offend him, to bother him– but you had never even had a conversation with this man. No– you’d never even spoken one word to this man. Your interactions with him were limited to a nod, a head shake, and one second eye contact from across the jet. When you were in the compound? He walked straight by you in the hall like you were part of the air in the room.

You wondered if it had anything to do with his former Winter Soldier status, even though he wasn’t that guy anymore Right now, he was just another one of the Avengers to you. Albeit, he was a little grumpy, a tad bit mysterious, and very easy on the eyes.

You weren’t bothered by his lack of visits to your med bay. You figured that he just didn’t want strangers to touch him. You didn’t blame him for that. Besides, it’s not like he was required to use your services whenever he was hurt. You were there to help out if any of them needed you, and that’s all. 

After all— if none of them needed your help ever again, then that was the best gift they could ever bestow upon you.

The supply drawer slid shut with a satisfying click, and a smile fit over your face. 

Finally, you were done organizing the med bay. You’d gotten a new round of supplies a month back while you were out on a week-long mission with half the team, and returned to find that some of the recruits had just… haphazardly restocked your place. You wanted to scream when you saw everything. 

The rational part of you made you realize that you didn’t label any of your drawers or cabinets. Then again, you didn’t ever think that you needed to. It was only you that went through the items, only you that restocked the med bay, and only you that distributed everything. You had your system in your own head, and you didn’t need to explain it to anyone.

Except, it seemed that you needed to now.

You didn’t even have the time to organize everything for a while. The back to back missions, the influx of injuries that rolled through your doors– you had to make do with what you had, and fix everything as you went along, grumbling under your breath.

Now? Everything was right where it should be, even though it was nearing three in the morning. Still, sacrificing your sleep for this was worth it. You would wake up to find your workplace fully functional and prepared for another work week, and you would send out an order for the next restock to be simply left in its box if you’re not around to take care of it yourself. 

“Visitor outside Med Door One,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice suddenly rang through your lab, alerting you.

You paused, sitting up straighter on your stool as you turned towards the door– Med Door One was near where the hangar was. It was where the team would filter in after they came back from missions. You weren’t aware of anyone being dispatched. 

“Unfrost the glass, please,” you muttered, eyebrows still furrowed.

“Right away,” the A.I. replied immediately.

The entire glass wall turned clear, and you startled. Bucky was standing on the other side of the glass, a trickle of blood coming down from his temple along with a bruise on his cheek. He was nursing his vibranium arm, clutching it towards his torso, and leaning against the glass slightly. His eyes met yours without the obstruction in the way, and you immediately shifted out of your seat, breath catching in your throat.

“Unlock the doors,” you ordered, already moving towards him.

The glass slid open, and Bucky pushed off the walls. The man gave you a brief nod of acknowledgment as he attempted to appear undeterred by the injuries all over his body. 

“Didn’t think you’d be awake,” he forced out.

“I didn’t think you were gone,” you breathed, hands shooting out on either side of him in case he stumbled forth. “What happened to you?”

“Solo op,” he grunted, a low hiss escaping through his teeth as he took a few steps forth. “Left early this mornin’.”

“Jesus, Barnes,” you whispered, backing up slowly as he continued to step forward. Your eyes raced all over him, trying to take in his physical state. It was hard to decipher how badly he was injured with all his tactical gear still on his body, but from the way he was limping? “Why didn’t you radio back to base?”

“I made it back in one piece, didn’t I?” 

You don’t know whether to feel relieved or to shoot him where he stands. 

For now, you choose to lead him to the examination table instead, and you’re grateful that the soldier doesn’t dismiss you like he usually does when he’s injured. There’s a soft noise of pain that exits his lips when he manages to sit down, and you’re already reaching for your gloves.

“Is it okay if I take a look at you?”

“My arm is what’s killin’ me the most,” he muttered. “If you can do anything for that, then shit– go ahead. I think there’s a wire out of place in the bicep.”

Your hands freeze mid-pull of the latex glove, and your eyes drop down to the glistening vibranium arm. You can see it– the slight tremor of the metal, the involuntary twitching against his body as Bucky attempts to keep the prosthetic under his control. You suck in a tight breath, and remove the gloves on your hand, and go for a different drawer in your office– a toolbox that you had for when Rhodey came to bother you. 

Bucky looked briefly surprised when you turned back towards him, dragging your stool with you to sit in front of him, but there was no protest. His flesh hand dropped back down to his lap, and he let out a small sigh.

“Do the plates just pop out?” you asked softly, swallowing thickly. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous about this. Now that you were sitting right in front of him, you could hear the faint buzzing coming from within his arm, almost mocking you about your lack of experience with this kind of thing.  

“Yeah– just… be gentle,” he murmured, his voice tight. 

Your eyes flitted back up to his face, meeting his gaze. He didn’t look nervous per se, but he didn’t look relaxed either. His body was wound up tightly– and you had always known Bucky to already be a pretty tense guy. Even for him, this was pretty bad. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders were squared off– even his thigh muscles were flexed like he was waiting for the impact of something to hit him.

You could chalk it up to the fact that he had other injuries that were bothering him, but that wouldn’t be right either. You weren’t sure where his solo mission took him, but if Bucky didn’t even try to patch himself up on the way back to the base, then you were certain that he wasn’t even able to take care of himself with the amount of stress that his arm was putting him in. 

Shit– you weren’t even sure that Bucky ever had an issue with his arm in the past before, let alone let anyone touch it before. You didn’t even think Tony was allowed to make tweaks with it after Wakanda gifted it to him. If there had been any issues with his arm, then there weren't any incident reports logged in that you were ever made away of. 

“Can you take your arm off for me?” 

“With how it’s shocking my every nerve right now? I really wish I could.”

A shaky breath exited your lips as you looked back down at his arm– the vibranium seemingly shining back into your eyes under the sterile lighting of your lab. It really was pretty. You enjoyed looking at his arm– to steal a glance at it on the jet whenever you had the chance. 

Slowly, you reached out to touch him. You wondered briefly if he could feel the weight of your hands underneath the metal– if there were some sensors that were built into the new prosthetic that was gifted to him. You wondered how badly his arm was hurting him right now, and if your touch only added to the pain he was feeling.

You gently traced over the vibranium, your eyes studying the onyx and gold design as you felt each groove and plat beneath your fingertips. You were searching for the point of impact– where he had sustained the most damage for him to be complaining of some kind of pain. 

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you the entire time, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

It could be from the fact that you’d never treated him before. He’d never been under your care– he’d never been one of your patients. Out of the lengthy time that you had worked with him, this was the closest that you had ever been to the man, and this was the first and longest conversation that you had with him. You could laugh, honestly. You wanted to, if it weren’t for the fact that you had to deal with Wakandan technology and the highest level of technology you were ever formally trained to deal with was U.S. military.

You reached for your toolbox, and released a breath. You steadied your hands. This would be like any other procedure– you didn’t have to be nervous. If anything, the stakes were lower. There was no blood. Just some open fucking nerve endings that were directly connected to his arm, shooting pain directly into the rest of his body.

No pressure at all.

Gently, the plates on his arm came open. A soft puff of air escaped your lips– one that you didn’t even know you were holding. Your heart still hammered in your chest regardless, and you were certain that Bucky could hear it from how close you were to him. Maybe he could even sense the anxiety rolling off of you. If he did, he didn’t say anything– didn’t even make it known that he noticed. 

You were careful as you placed each of the vibranium pieces on the bedside table next to you, memorizing exactly which piece went where, and not taking out more than what needed to come out. You studied the hinges inside his arm, making sure that there wasn’t anything that you were missing as you took him apart.

Then, you saw it. 

The soft, electrical shock in his arm– a wire connected inside. 

“Fuck– what happened?” you murmured, eyes narrowing at the inside of his arm before you reached for the next appropriate tools.

“Asshole jammed this thing in between the plates– pumped me with several thousand watts of electricity. I think I’m lucky only one wire came loose,” he murmured back to you.

“Thing, huh?” you repeated with a laugh. “Can’t even tell me what it was?”

“I was a little busy trying not to die, sweetheart.” Despite the amount of pain he was feeling, he was well enough to hit you with a sarcastic remark— a great sign of his physical and mental wellbeing.

“Well, you did good on that front,” you told him, and looked up to meet his gaze before giving him a grin. “I’ll put you back into one piece, soldier.”

There was a soft chuckle of a response from him— gentle and light. Your hands paused, allowing the moment to pass before you went back into his arm to start poking and prodding once again. (This was an excuse. You wanted to listen to the soft rumble of his laughter.)

You tore your gaze away from his face, and looked back down to his arm, trying to focus once more at the task at hand. 

“I’ll contact Wakanda tomorrow morning… Talk to Princess Shuri, make sure that there isn’t anything else I need to do for you,” you said softly as you began to connect the wire back into its rightful socket. You took a mental note of the positioning, the color of the wiring, and everything else that you could think of. “Make sure that there’s nothing that we need to replace or fix so that it doesn’t become some sort of chronic pain for you.”

“You don’t have to do all of that,” Bucky sighed, shaking his head in dismissal. “It’s fine– I’ll figure it out if it happens again.”

“Are you gonna be able to pry apart the plates yourself if your arm goes to shit— You wanna scratch Wakandan vibranium?” you asked, glancing up at his face briefly.

Bucky met your eyes, and closed his mouth. He just stared back at you, and didn’t respond. You gave him a small smile, then turned back to the metal in front of you. You let out a small gasp as the wire finally connected, and the small buzzing noise in his arm stopped. 

“Flex your hand– be careful. Your arm is open. Think of it as if your arm is skinned,” you quickly warned him, almost frantic with your words.

“You’re kinda dramatic, Doc.”

“I’m being cautious, Sarge. Have you ever tried that?” you shot back.

A small scoff fell from his lips, and Bucky rolled his eyes– but there was a twitch of his lips, like he was mildly amused. It was there, just ever so slightly there, before it was gone– replaced by the perpetual stoic and generally irritated look he usually wore. 

Bucky’s fingers twitched first, almost as if he was afraid to move. The movement was slight and slow, but he eventually created a full fist with a slow breath exiting his lips. Soon, his palm opened back up, and he felt brave enough to lift his arm halfway up, and your own sigh of relief escaped your body. 

“You fixed me,” he reported, his entire body relaxing with his words.

“Told you I would. Now try not to die from things out in the field,” you hummed. 

“Alright—“

“I’ll get some replacement parts for wires and plates sent over from Wakanda,” you cut him off, humming to yourself. You reached for the loose plates that were at your side table, ready to put him back together. “I think you got lucky that nothing was fully damaged– just dislodged– but you’re not leaving my med bay without stitches on your flesh wounds though.”

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t argue with you. After you carefully put back together his metal arm, you were able to move onto his actual body– which was a hell of a lot easier on your nerves than the vibranium Wakandan tech on him. 

You breathed easier when your mind wasn’t racing a thousand miles an hour, and you didn’t have to force your hands to stop shaking under the constant pressure of fearing that something would go wrong. Bucky, of course, was as still as a statute the entire time. You were just glad that he didn’t complain when you told him to take off his gear so you could inspect his body. 

The sun was coming up over the horizon by the time you were done with your full examination on the soldier. You’d gone through several syringes of lidocaine in stronger doses– something that you learned that needed to be done when you had to patch up Steve– and had laced even more stitches through Bucky’s skin, but the man was finally in one whole piece before you. 

“If you take those stitches out yourself, I’ll kill you,” you threatened under your breath as you watched him slide off the table. “Come back here in three days.”

“Only three?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“You and Steve heal faster than the others,” you dismissed, clearing off the last of your workspace. “I’ll come look for you in two days and check your progress, but I think three should be more than enough. How’s the arm?”

Bucky’s arm rotated from the shoulder in a quick circular motion, and you could hear the gears whirring as he moved. His hand opened and closed experimentally, then he extended his arm outwards. All the while– the light shined upon the vibranium plates, the golden detailing gleaming against the black like starlight. It really was like artwork attached directly towards his body. 

You had to remind yourself to not openly stare at him.

“Good as new. I’ll let you know if it bothers me again,” he told you, grabbing his gear that you had stripped off of his body so you could have examined him properly. 

He was barely halfway out the door when you spoke again.

“I’m putting you on bed rest until those stitches come out, soldier.”

Bucky froze in his place, and turned back to look at you– to see if you were being serious about what you had just said. You could only give him an innocent smile before you sent off the report on your tablet. Moments later, a matching buzz resounded on his own phone– everyone on the team was now aware that he wasn’t allowed to be on missions or in training.

“You fuckin’ traitor,” he whispered, betrayal and a hint of respect written all over his face.

Strange things began to happen around you.

You sent out the order to make sure that no one would restock your lab on their own, only to find out that someone else had already done it for you.

Except, there was no log of it.

There wasn’t an incident report, and none of the recruits would tell you. In fact, they all looked like they were about to shit their pants whenever you brought it up. Last time you pressed one of the recruits, they ended up scrambling to check the security cameras because they mistakenly believed that you were asking because someone else had restocked your med bay without your permission and they needed to find out who to rat out. 

You had no idea what was going on. You didn’t even get a chance to tell them that no one had restocked– that you were just trying to get answers on who gave the order out before you could. In the end, it benefitted you, so you weren’t too upset about it. 

If this was all that happened, then maybe you would’ve left everything alone. Maybe the coincidences wouldn’t have bothered you as much.

You mentioned to Natasha that you were running out of your preferred bullet rounds– but it wasn’t urgent for Tony to order since it wasn’t often that you actually ended up going out into the field. You just wanted to let her know for whenever she did a bulk order of her own rounds so she could add your casings to it.

Two days later, you had a whole box on your bed, along with two extra handguns. It was the exact same brand and type that you specifically used– one that Natasha normally told you had you waitlisted for a few months when she ordered it directly from the supplier from how difficult it was to make. Naturally, you brought it up with the assassin the next time you saw her.

“I didn’t order anything yet,” she said, shaking her head. “I order everything at the end of the month, remember?”

“But on my bed…” you trailed off, gesturing down the hall towards your room. “Who got me the casings?”

Natasha only tilted her head at you, eyebrows furrowing as she stared at you. “I didn’t order anything,” she repeated to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine,” you said slowly then shook your head. “Never mind. I must’ve– uh. Sorry. I thought I was running out of ammo. I’m good. You don’t have to order me anything.”

Her confusion only deepened with your words, but you were spiraling. You managed to dismiss yourself from the conversation before you made things even more awkward. 

It wasn’t even limited to supplies or work-related items. 

After sending out a text in the shared group chat asking to borrow a phone charger for a couple hours because yours was acting up, you found yourself with a new phone charger in your room that same night– in the box with the plastic wrap untouched and everything. 

Later, you found a gift box on your work desk. Upon further inspection, you found that someone had mysteriously gifted you an assortment of your favorite time of the month snacks along with a fresh bottle of Tylenol. You were briefly disturbed, only until a brief memory came to mind of you asking Clint to pick up some feminine products from the store for you when he went out into the city.

“I only got you those pads and tampons you asked me for,” he said, holding his hands up in defense when you cornered him in the hall. “Besides, how would I know that you liked Ferrero Rocher chocolate? Or dried mangoes? You do your own grocery shopping unlike the rest of us– we make Tony have our shit delivered to the compound every other week since we’re too fuckin’ lazy to go out into the city. I only went out because I was getting some shit for my kids, and stopping at the store was just on the way–”

“You’re the only one I mentioned to that my period was coming up,” you hissed at him, frowning. “Are you the one that got me those guns, too?”

“Shit, someone got you guns and chocolate? You have a secret admirer, doc?” he asked, a teasing grin matching the light in his eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, that sounds like one hell of a way to flirt. Has your suitor tried getting you a new scalpel yet? Maybe some latex gloves?”

You’ve never wanted to strangle the archer so bad in your life. Unfortunately you took the Hippocratic Oath, and you had to let him free.

Your breaking point came when you said you wanted to start reading again in your free time, but had no idea what to read. An assortment of different books were waiting for you— science fiction, self help, and fantasy. All different things you enjoyed, but had never once spoken out loud. 

You searched the security cameras. You set up your own cameras in discrete corners, and didn’t tell a single soul. Whoever was leaving you these little gifts either didn’t exist, or had some sort of power that allowed them to be undetected by modern technology because you could never catch them. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was specifically ordered not to allow anyone into your room or med lab without your permission— only for you to find a pair of brand new combat boots waiting for you at the edge of your bed. 

The stupid fucking A.I. wouldn’t even tell you who managed to break through her security protocols. Tony couldn’t even figure it out, much to his dismay. Part of you felt bad for giving him something else to work on, on top of upgrading the entire team’s gear— but shit someone managed to bypass a Level One order and there wasn’t a trace. 

“I thought you were my friend,” you said into the void. 

“I apologize, doctor,” the A.I. replied to you. 

“I’m not a doctor,” you scoffed, shaking your head as you organized your notes on your most recent findings on Steve— the man purposely didn’t sleep as much as he should, but when he didn’t have anything to do? He slept like a man who had more than twenty four hours in one day. 

“The others refer to you as a doctor,” a new voice chimed in as the doors to your med bay slid open. 

“Didn’t go to med school, Barnes,” you said, pushing back from your desk to take a look at him.

Bucky was dressed in a compression shirt that left little to imagination, and you wondered if there was really no other size left for him to take when he joined the team. Then again, he also could’ve just gained all that muscle. Still, he could’ve worn another fucking shirt before coming to your lab. You could see every single line and ridge of his muscles with each movement and breath. 

“How can I help?” you asked, deciding to play off your blatant staring as a medical check.

“I have a contusion,” Bucky said.

“What?” you barked out before you could stop yourself. 

“You know, internal bleeding caused by—“

“I know what a bruise is,” you cut him off, holding a hand up to stop him from speaking further. “I— what do you want me to do about that?”

“Don’t you check out our injuries?” he asked, as if he was speaking the obvious. Which— yes. Obviously. You did check out their injuries. But none of them came to you for a fucking bruise. 

You could only stare at him, briefly wondering if the man was bullshitting you. Was this his attempt for conversation after fixing his arm, after ignoring your presence for who knows how long?

He wasn’t backing down from this. 

Bucky held your gaze, expectant and waiting for you to do something about his playground injury. You quickly realized that you would be fighting a losing battle if you didn’t just give in to his request. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Show me your… contusion.”

He took off his fucking shirt.

Your mouth went dry– and if you weren’t blatantly ogling him before? You definitely were now. You thought the compression shirt left little to your imagination? You were wrong. There was plenty hiding underneath the thin piece of fabric that he uncovered for you, now fully showcased. 

A thin layer of sweat clung onto his body, and you guessed that he had come straight from the gym— which would explain why his body looked so fucking massive right now. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath, how his abdomen muscles rippled as he shifted to the side to drape his shirt over a free table. 

Last time he was in your med bay, there was no need for him to strip down to his skin. He didn’t complain of any torso injuries, just some lacerations on his face, arm, and another cut to his leg that you took care of. 

Honestly, the human body shouldn’t affect you like this, not when you’ve studied it like your life depended on it, but this was different. This was a walking statue of pheromones and all things unholy and filled with temptation. 

“Doc?” Bucky called out to you, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Where’s the bruise, Sarge?” you asked, snapping out of it as fast as you could. 

The soldier turned his back to you, and you felt the final nail plunge into your coffin. He straightened his spine, his back muscles shifting along in the process as he did. You couldn’t help but lock your gaze onto him, the broad shoulders, the large wingspan of him—  Jesus Christ. 

Yeah. You were going to hell.

You forced yourself to collect your thoughts, clearing your throat lightly as you looked down his back. You saw it. The light purplish blue spot. Gently, you reached out, fingers resting upon his warm skin. Bucky didn’t flinch, but you didn’t press against him to elicit such a reaction either. You simply just grazed upon the hurt, feeling for any swelling or lump.

“Doesn’t feel like a hematoma, doesn’t appear to be large enough to be one either,” you muttered, a frown settling upon your face. “You’ll be fine, Barnes. Why did you come to me for this?”

Bucky shrugged, already reaching for his shirt. “Just making sure that it wasn’t anything serious.”

“I’m watching the discoloring fade back into your regular skin color in real time,” you pointed out, still zoned in on the injury. It was a fascinating scene– being able to watch as his body healed itself before your very eyes.

“Then write it down in your notes,” he said, tugging the black fabric of his shirt back over his head. “Better yet– start a file for me with all the other freaks on the team that you take care of. James Buchnanan Barnes, in case you forgot my full name.”

You almost missed it. The hint of jealousy in his voice– the way he didn’t turn back to meet your gaze. Your eyebrow twitched slightly as you stared at the back of his head, assessing him in a way that you had never seen him before.

You cleared your throat, and reached to push a couple files to the side. Bucky couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the better of him as he heard you shuffle some papers around.

A smile fit over his face as he saw it on your desk– clear as day. A folder with his name written on it, with your handwritten notes already tucked away neatly inside of them. When his pretty blue eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’ll add your little boo-boo to your incident report log, soldier.”

“You fuckin’ suck, sweetheart.”

Despite his words, Bucky still kept coming to you. In fact, you began to see more of him than you had ever seen before. It’s as if the barrier between the two of you had somehow got torn apart like it was never there.  

The next time he came to you, you almost ripped your brain apart. You were completely, extremely, and utterly distraught, as if you had somehow managed to miss something in the few years of research that you had been doing on Steve.

“You… have a headache?” you asked him slowly.

“Yeah. A horrible migraine,” he replied, nodding to you.

“Rate it on a scale of one to ten,” you told him, already reaching for your computer to pull up Steve’s archived notes. “Ten being: Please sedate me bad.”

“Uh– six.”

Your fingers paused over your keyboard. That wasn’t a horrible number, but not the best either– especially not for a super soldier. Six usually meant that the pain deterred a person from being able to do their tasks without thinking about the symptoms they were under, and he described his headache as a migraine. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you took in a sharp breath, looking back at him.

“Yeah, fine– sorry,” you muttered quickly, quickly browsing through Steve’s medical history. You didn’t find a single thing that could help you, and a soft curse exited your lips. You reached for your gloves, and quickly crossed the room towards him, already herding him towards where you wanted him to go. “Can you get on the examination table for me?”

“It’s– it’s a headache,” he stuttered, bewildered at your sudden hovering.

“Steve said that he doesn’t get headaches, and the serum that you got was developed after him which means that technically– you should be developmentally better than him biologically speaking,” you told him.

From the look in your eye, Bucky couldn’t help but listen to your orders, and got on the table. You kept him in your med bay for a while, trying to figure out why the hell his head was hurting– but he stuck to the same script. Said he woke up wrong, and the pain just kept increasing throughout the day.

There was an abnormal amount of muscle tension across his neck and back when you ran your hands across his body, but there weren't any of the same muscle knots that Steve had. 

“I stretch before and after training,” he muttered when you brought it up. His voice was a bit lower, slightly thicker. You figured it was from the pain he was feeling in his head. 

“You and Steve might just be carrying tension in your muscles differently,” you said with a frown, smoothing your hands over his shoulders. “He has back pain. You get headaches– makes sense though– are the headaches left side dominated since the metal weighs you down? I see you compensate for the weight, but when you’re tired you sometimes lean.”

Bucky paused for a second, then looked over his shoulder at you. “You noticed?”

“I notice everything, Barnes.”

His eyes stayed fixed onto your face for a bit, something unreadable in his gaze. You watched as he wet his lips slowly, and turned to face forward again. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the actions under your hands.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Left side dominant migraine.”

“I’m prescribing you 2000mg of ibuprofen.”

Bucky spun around to face you once more, and you could read the expression on his face this time– fucking shock and doubt. “Sweetheart, are you trying to kill my liver? What the hell are you going to do when it shuts down from shock?”

“Did you forget who you are, soldier?” you asked, staring at him with equal amounts of disbelief. “Your liver will chew through a regular dose of 200mg of ibuprofen and shit it out like it’s a tic tac– take 2000mg or you’ll spend the rest of the week with your own personal drummer using your head as its instrument.”

He grumbled, but you watched him swallow down the cup of pills you poured out from your stash in the medicine cabinet along with the water from your own personal water bottle. You quietly realized you would need to get a water dispenser in the med lab. Even so, you weren't in any rush to do so as you drank out of the same water bottle when he left.

Bucky continued to come to you for more… superficial wounds that didn’t require you to do a full body examination on him. You never meant to downplay the injury or the pain that he may or may not be feeling, but the super soldier came to you for you to blow on his scrapes. You were wondering what the hell his thought process was in his head, but you also couldn’t just turn away a patient. 

He had the leg of his sweatpants tugged up past his knee, but the fabric was strained against the thick muscle of his thigh. You had to force yourself to ignore the fact the stitches were basically ripping at the seams.

“This will heal in like, an hour, Bucky,” you told him. “You barely fell on your knee– this was definitely through the clothes.”

“You stopped calling me by my last name,” he said, ignoring your words of examination. His voice was soft– softer than you had ever heard it before. “When did that happen?” 

Suddenly, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were kneeling in front of him– the position you had so naturally assumed when he had exposed his leg to you, and he was just staring down at you. You could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, and you knew that he could see it. 

“Focus, soldier,” you replied, snapping your fingers in front of his face. You pointed your index finger between his face and yours, connecting a line between his eyes to yours. “Back to the scrape.” 

You didn’t know if you were telling him or yourself, honestly. There was a smile on his face that you would later categorize in your notes as devastating. You could barely tear your eyes away from his, looking back down at the already healing injury.

That day, you sent Bucky away with a saline wash and a bandaid slapped onto the joint, knowing full well that he would be fine. You hoped that he wouldn’t come back with something stupidly bad for your heart, but no. 

He just came back with something stupid period. 

“Back in my day, people used to die from papercuts. Did the Aerospace Medical Training not teach you that, Doc?” he mocked you.

“Did you Google which training I got?” you rolled your eyes at him. “Didn’t know that you knew how to use search engines, Sarge.”

“I asked Sam, actually,” he grunted, almost like he didn’t even want to admit it to you. 

“You spoke to him. Good for you,” you said, pretending to look impressed. “Did you guys argue before he told you who trained me? Did he tell you that I graduated top of my class, too? While we’re on the topic, let me tell you that I also retired from the military with the highest of honors–”

“Can you shut the hell up and look at my injury before I die from some unknown disease?” he cut you off.

You held his pointer finger in your hand, glaring at the tip of it like the pad of it owed you something. “There’s nothing here, Buck.”

“Do you need glasses? Goggles, maybe? I’m sure Sam can hook you up with that,” he chuckled, clearly happy with himself for the jab.

You really tried to fight back the smile that threatened to creep up onto your face, but failed miserably. You couldn’t help it. You also made fun of Sam the first time you saw him in his hero uniform– sent the picture straight to his sister and the two of you spent a good two hours on the phone cackling in front of him.

“There’s no papercut,” you told him again, releasing his finger. “And even if there was– people don’t die from papercuts anymore. Of course, unless you’re not fully vaccinated. And at that point… I don’t know what to tell you. Are you not vaccinated, soldier?”

“I’m vaccinated against everything that exists,” he informed you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s the vaccine called? H.Y.D.R.A. serum?” you shot back.

His reply came just as quick. “Yes, actually.”

“Sounds like some good stuff– how many times did you have to get it for it to be this effective? Do I gotta get it once a year like a flu shot?” you joked. 

“Just once, but there were all these different side effects, doll. Like, frying my brain, my personal agency ripped from me for several decades, and insane amounts of trauma– crazy shit. Don’t recommend it. I’d stick to what the CDC pushes out to the regular civilians,” he said, and waved a dismissive hand in the air. 

You had to bite back a laugh, covering your mouth with a hand as you looked to the side. You weren’t even sure if you were allowed to laugh at his trauma laced up with a pretty bow. 

“It was funny, you gotta admit,” Bucky said, nodding to himself more than to you. When you looked back at him, there was a charming smile on his face, one that you couldn’t even believe that he had on at that moment.

“You are awful.”

“And I’m still at risk of dying from an infection. Sweetheart, you gotta get me right,” he told you, a hint of a Brooklyn accent peeking from under his words. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a slight tingle than ran through your entire being at the sound of his voice.

You cleared your throat, attempting to steel your mind and soul once more since your body clearly wasn't listening to you. “Didn’t you just tell me that you were immune to every disease possible?”

Bucky’s lips parted, and he cocked his head to the side as if he was trying hard to formulate an excuse. You waited patiently as you watched him shut his mouth, and look over to the side as if your closed medicine cabinets would give him some answers.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” he settled with.

“Do you just come here for me to lick your wounds?” you asked, moving to go sit down at your desk. You couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Because I’m starting to think all you do is come here to waste my time.”

He shrugged, a little noncommittally. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to a friend.”

“A friend,” you echoed, a chuckle leaving you. 

“Yes, a friend,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously. “Why do you say it like that?”

“I just– I didn’t realize that’s what we were,” you admitted.

Once more, the man in front of you paused. This time, there was a crease between his eyebrows as he looked at you, and his hands fell to his sides. Confusion was evident on his face. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, the start of a frown beginning to settle over his face.

The change in the air was clear. Colder, and even though he was right in front of you, he had felt farther away than he had ever been before. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away from him, down at your desk in front of you. “We’ve worked together for years. You didn’t bother with me until three weeks ago, Bucky. Coworkers, yes. But friends? I didn’t think we were close enough for that.”

“You take care of the entire team as it is– was it wrong for me to try and take care of myself?” he defended himself.

Your gaze flitted over to him quickly, finding that he was leaning over one of your worktables, arms crossed in front of him. He was genuinely upset, you realized. You couldn’t figure out why. 

“No, Bucky– I’m just saying. You never even talked to me before,” you sighed, shaking your head. “At some point, I just gave up on communicating with you all together. If it weren’t for the fact you nodded at me during missions, then I would’ve fully believed that you just didn’t think I was there.”

“Of course I knew you were there,” he replied back instantly. “But you were busy. With everyone and everything else. Me and Steve heal faster than the rest of them, but you always seem to try and check up on us first.”

“Because you two never seem to take care of yourselves— it’s my job to take care of you,” you stressed to him. 

“I never asked you to do that for me!” he shouted at you.

You blinked at him, taken aback. Did he just yell at you?

 It took you a second to collect yourself, to be able to even look him in the eye without the last bit of your patience snapping. 

“It’s in my job description, just like it’s in yours to take care of me if I have to go out in the field for an evac, Barnes.”

“We’re going back to last names?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you. The edge in his voice was sharp, thick. It made you want to smack the attitude out his mouth. “So we really aren’t friends after all?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat. You brought your hands up to cover your face. “What the fuck is your issue with how I address you? Barnes is your name isn’t it?”

“Well, excuse me– I thought we were closer than that,” he said, spitting your words right back at you. 

You sucked in a deep breath before dragging your hands down your face to look at him without any obstruction.

“Okay, sure– then why did you ignore my existence for so fucking long despite us being on the same team? Even if you don’t need my help, it doesn’t explain you pretending I’m nothing but air around you up until recently,” you demanded from him. 

“I just– I didn’t want to add to your workload,” he told you, shaking his head.

“And you think that coming into my med bay with a fucking papercut isn’t increasing my workload? I have other shit to take care of,” you scoffed at him, voice laced with sarcasm. Your body felt the regret before your mind caught up with you– and you wanted to scream. The words had come out faster than you could stop it. 

Bucky’s body tensed, and his eyes dropped down to the metal table before him. His fingers tapped along it, a soft beat resounding against the silence as he nodded slowly, processing your words. Then, there was a wave of calm that rushed through him. His body loosened. Accepted your words as if they were scripture. 

“Okay,” he finally said, his voice softer, and his fingers stopped moving. He stood up tall, and didn’t look at you again. “I got the message. I won’t add to your busy plate. I know you have a lot going on.”

Bucky moved towards the doors. Something told you that he wouldn’t come back if you let him leave– even if he had some sort of grave injury. He would definitely try to take care of it himself.

There was a tightness in your chest that you wouldn’t be able to explain in medical terms. There were no heart palpitations or anxiety attacks. No, this was just you being a fucking asshole to him. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., lock the doors and frost the glass,” you ordered as fast as you could.

Bucky had to step back quickly, otherwise his foot would’ve gotten caught with how the doors came sliding shut. Finally, the soldier turned to look at you where you sat at your desk, frowning at him.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. unlock the doors,” Bucky said, holding your gaze.

“I can’t do that, Sergeant,” she replied, making a sigh of relief exit your lips. 

“You stupid fucking A.I. —“

“We’re in my lab,” you interjected his words, running your hand through your hair. “Within these walls, she listens to me. Well, usually she does. I still need Tony to fuckin’ fix her and tell me who’s been sneaking past my shut down protocols to sneak presents into my rooms when I’m not around.”

Bucky tongued at his cheek as his eyes narrowed at you. “Thought we weren’t close. Why are you holding me hostage in your lab, sweetheart?”

You released a breath, and gave him a small, weak smile. One that you hoped looked sincere. You watched as Bucky’s exterior slowly melted away as he stared at you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“You’re not adding to my workload– I didn’t… I didn’t mean that,” you whispered, still keeping your eyes locked onto his. “I like it when you come to visit me, even if it's for some stupid shit that I have to log into your file, but if you just wanted to be my friend– you don’t have to make up excuses to come and see me. You can just… come visit me.”

The silence was loud. You didn’t dare look away from him, afraid he would take it the wrong way if he did. Then, you saw it. A slight shake of his shoulders. 

The smallest of laughs escaped his lips, and he shook his head, chin tilting downwards to his chest until he was looking at his feet. You could see the slight tug of his lips, curling upwards into a smile.

“Activate Override: Protocol Doc authorized by White Wolf, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Bucky spoke.

You pushed out of your seat quickly, lips parting. You felt betrayal deep in your bones as you watched as the doors slid right open, and the glass turned clear once more– and there was a disastrous smile on Bucky’s face that stole the air from your lungs as he met your eyes.

“It was you–”

“We’re not gonna be friends, sweetheart,” he told you, a chuckle on his lips as he turned towards the door. “I don’t leave flowers and chocolate for my friends on their beds.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Flowers? I haven't gotten flowers!”

Bucky didn’t respond to you. The man just walked right out of the med bay, forgetting about the papercut injury that threatened his health, and left you with that fat piece of information to sit on. 

When you regained your senses, you rushed out towards the door, but it was useless. He was already gone. You couldn’t find him on either side of the hall. Your next stop was your bedroom, and just like Bucky said– there was a bouquet of fresh flowers waiting for you on the edge of your bed.

You could feel your blood pressure rising with each passing moment. 

The monitors mounted on the walls of the jet were blaring at you with different warning lights on each of the Avengers– showing you where each of them had sustained critical injury. Every few moments, an explosion went off, causing the aircraft to tremble with you inside of it.

“Can I get a status report?” you asked, eyes glued onto the screens.

Static crackled right back to you through your earpiece before it connected– you could hear the sounds of battle and gunfire. The sounds of the team shouting over each other to take cover, to watch each other’s six– it was too much. 

“Someone talk to me!” you shouted. “Do you need an evac?!”

“Stay put!” Steve barked on the other end. “It’s too dangerous for you to–”

The ground shook beneath the jet, toppling you over. The comms cut off into a buzzing silence as you hit the metal floors, your heart racing in your chest– that wasn’t just a mini explosion set off by Tony or Rhodey. That was something bigger. More lethal and heavy.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. get them back online!” you ordered as you scrambled to your feet, slamming your hands on the sides of the monitors to force them to reconnect with everyone’s suits. 

Slowly, the screens came back to life– and your stomach dropped through your body. Critical warnings were showing onto the screen before you. A gaping hole in the side of his torso that ripped through his gear. Foreign bodies were detected to have entered his skin– and the scans could barely show it but you were certain there were broken bones.

“Evac– Am I evacuating Bucky?” you demanded, trying to will your voice to stay even as you connected through the comms. 

Radio silence. The only noise that greeted you back was the sound of your own heart pumping wildly through your ears. 

You moved quickly, grabbing the keys to the motorbike that was docked at the end of the jet. There wasn’t any time to wait– not when the entire team was injured badly, and Bucky was potentially dying out in the middle of the field. You swung your leg over the seat, and removed the hooks that kept the bike in place–

You froze.

You had no information.

If you went out onto the field, you would be going into a warzone without any eyes or ears to let you know where to go. You’d be going in blind, creating more of a liability for the rest of the team to try and take care of while you pulled Bucky out of there. 

You had a failsafe. If they needed you to come out, and couldn’t reach you through the earpiece, then Tony would’ve contacted you through F.R.I.D.A.Y.. You had been instructed by Steve to stay put. Disobeying direct orders would put the entire mission, the team, and you at risk.

Your hands trembled as you rehooked the bike into place, and slowly unmounted the seat. All you could do was prep the examination table in the jet, pulling it from the middle of the floor, and grabbing out all the supplies that you could possibly need. 

All you could do was wait for the dust to settle, to watch the monitors for any more injuries that inevitably came– and pray to every higher being out there that Bucky’s heart didn’t give out before they brought him back to you.

Your earpiece crackled to life after what had seemed like an eternity. 

“Incoming!” Sam yelled, and you immediately moved to open the rear ramp. 

The shape that Sam was in– it made you want to throw up. His goggles were cracked, suit ripped in several different areas. This mission went sideways and been thrown upside down more times than you could’ve counted. 

But Bucky– he made your heart stop. His skin was nearly devoid of color, and blood fell down his body with each passing second in thick droplets. His lips were pale, dry, and cracked. Soot and ash caked onto his face, his hair sticking onto his forehead with a mixture of sweat and dirt. You didn’t even know where to start when you looked at him.

Sam dropped him onto the table, and you immediately took to his side, fingers pressing against the pulse point on his neck. It was faint, but there– but still wasn’t good enough for what you needed. 

“What happened?” you breathed out.

“Cap lost his shield– fucking RPG came out of nowhere. Bucky threw himself in front of it– blocked Steve from getting the blast, but he took the brunt of it,” Sam said, watching as you ripped open Bucky’s vest. 

Your eyes immediately fell on Bucky’s torso, your lips parting in shock. Shrapnel was buried deep into his side– but his body was already rapidly healing around it. You’d never seen this before– not with Bucky or Steve. This was different. Bucky’s body healed faster the more it was damaged.

“An RPG?” you whispered, meeting Sam’s eyes. 

Your hands were shaking. You didn’t see what happened, sure, but just from the looks of it– from what you were seeing in front of you? Bucky unconscious, the labored breaths, the blood seeping out from his side– the weapon that took him down– it was too much.

The flashbacks of everything were coming back to you. The failure, the fear–

“He’s still alive,” Sam cut through your thoughts, grabbing your wrist. “Don’t freak out on me now. We’re not back in the trenches. I need you to focus because Buck’s not the only one injured right now.”

As if on queue, everyone else started piling into the jet. A shaky breath exited your lips as you watched them limp on board, leaning onto each other and groaning in pain. For the most part– they were alive. They were doing much better than Bucky.

“How is he?” Steve asked, setting Natasha down onto the benches.

“He’s lost a lot of blood– Tony, we need to get back to base quick,” you told him, and watched as the man got out of his suit and assumed control over the front console. “I gotta get this shit out of his body before we get there– he’s healing around the metal.”

“How the hell are you gonna do that?” Sam asked, frowning at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes darting around your supplies. “You guys are gonna need to hold him down… I don’t have any anesthetics on board.”

Both men froze in front of you, but they shifted to assume positions. Steve rested his hands on Bucky’s arms, pressing down firmly, while Sam held onto Bucky’s legs. You released a breath before you brought the scalpel to his torso– you needed to reinjure him. You needed to open him back up quickly to pull out every single foreign body within him otherwise it would only cause him some more issues.

“Starting,” you muttered out your warning.

Then, you cut into him.

Bucky’s body tensed immediately, eyes flying open as he jolted– Sam and Steve fighting to push him back down. His left arm immediately tried grabbing for you, only for Steve to readjust his grip to force Bucky back down.

“Shit– Buck! It’s just us!” Sam shouted at him, trying to get his attention. “You’re gonna fuckin’ hurt her if you don’t calm down!”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes land on you, the breaths coming out of his chest fast and uneven. Soon, he managed to fall limp under Steve and Sam’s hands, though his body still twitched as you dug into him, retrieving each and every single broken piece of metal within him.

“I’m sorry– I’m so sorry,” you kept repeating to him, wincing as your tweezers dug deeper into the tissue– as you had to reach for the scalpel again to cut back into him. His body kept healing before your eyes. You hadn’t had to deal with this before. 

You could barely keep your hands from trembling. Every ounce of your concentration was going towards the task at hand, trying to pull out the smallest pieces of metal while also trying to make sure his wound didn’t heal too fast, but also trying to stop him from actively bleeding out on you– you were panicking.

It was too similar. Too close to home. It reminded you too much of what had happened back on the war field all those years ago when you lost Riley. There was nothing that you could have done to stop his pain after he went down. You were ill equipt– you didn’t have the right tools with you to help him. Your team was too far away from your headquarters, and it didn’t even matter how fast you got there. He was already gone.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Bucky’s hand cradled your face, the metal thumb brushing away a stray tear that fell.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he muttered to you, forcing his eyes open to look up at you. He offered you a small, weak smile. “I got that crazy vaccine, remember? I can’t just roll over and die so easily.”

“You’re going to die by my hands if you don’t shut the fuck up and save your energy,” you whispered back to him.

Despite the pain, he laughed on the table. He regretted the action a second later, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he struggled to catch his breath again, but you appreciated him all the same. He was attempting to make you feel better. And it worked.

Bucky’s hand dropped from your face, but it lingered on you. He rested it on your hip, squeezing you lightly whenever you had to cut back into him– a quiet move to let you know that he was okay and to keep doing what you were doing for him. 

With Bucky’s comfort, his touch– the light tap of his fingers against you– you managed to calm down your nerves well enough to get everything out of his body before the jet touched back down onto base. The second the doors opened, Steve and Sam were carrying him onto a stretcher for you to do your full assessment on him.

With how fast his body was healing, you needed to move rapidly– faster than you had ever done before. You didn’t have time to give him any numbing agents, despite how badly you wanted to. The fractures that the monitors had detected must be already attempting to set into place during the time that you were focused on his torso, and you really didn’t want to have to rebreak bone in order for him to heal properly. 

Even after Bucky was finished up, fully patched and stitched, you didn’t even allow him to leave. You managed to get him transferred from your table to a more comfortable hospital bed, then you drugged him to really make sure the man wouldn’t be able to walk out of your med bay. 

He was pumped with sedatives that you knew knocked out Steve, and you felt some sort of comfort when you watched Bucky fall asleep without pain etching into his features. While he slept, you had fluids pushing through his body, replenishing him while you moved on to take care of the rest of the team. 

Thankfully, they weren’t as bad as Bucky was.

You needed to push a collarbone back into place, reset a broken nose, stitch some wounds together– but nothing like pulling foreign bodies out of a torso. You could breathe easier. 

“You okay?” Sam asked you as you tugged the needle through his arm. 

“I think we should invest in a medical team,” you replied. “I think just having only one of me around isn’t cutting it anymore.”

Sam let out a small chuckle, and shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

Your hands paused over his arm, and you looked up at him. You met his gaze– he looked just as exhausted as you felt. Your eyes dropped back down to his injury, and you kept working.

“The hell are you talking about?” you murmured, even though you knew exactly what he was about to start on. 

“I haven’t seen you act like that since Riley got shot out of the sky,” he said softly. “Damn near thought you were gonna pass out on the jet.”

Your jaw clenched as you released a breath. “Sam…”

“It scared me, too– don’t get me wrong. It was… I’m glad you weren’t there to see how it all unfolded on the field.”

The words died down between you. You could only hear the light sound of the sutures being pulled through his skin as you punctured him repeatedly, gently closing the wound back into place. 

“On another note,” Sam spoke, breaking the silence, “Don’t think I missed the way that Robo-Cop held you on the jet–”

“We’re not talking about this right now–”

“And he called you sweetheart,” he whistled lowly, and you could hear the grin on his face without even looking at him. “Is there something you wanna tell me–”

A sharp cry exited his lips, cutting off his words as you dug the needle through him. Your eyebrows furrowed in feigned concern as your eyes flitted up to meet his gaze in mock apology.

“Haven’t heard you scream like that since Riley was around,” you mused, tilting your head at him. “You gonna pass out on the floor of my lab?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

This time around, Bucky wasn’t discharged back into regular duties for over two weeks. You put him on strict bedrest, even though he hated every single moment of it. Thankfully, the other members of the team snitched on him every time they found him roaming the halls near the training grounds, and you would immediately herd Bucky back into his room.

He told you that it was overkill. Subconsciously, you agreed. He didn’t need to be out of commission for that long, and he was honestly fine after a week and a half. You had already taken the stitches out of his body. X-Rays showed that his bones had healed the right way, and he had made a full recovery. 

You were still worried. You couldn’t shake the memory— having to continuously cut into him, him bleeding in front of you… It really did mess you up, more than you wanted to admit. 

One look from you made Bucky concede, and follow your wellness plan without another complaint. 

However, it didn’t stop Bucky from bringing you gifts. Except he hand delivered it to you now, rather than leaving it in your room like some sort of off season Santa Claus. 

Bucky sat on the bench beside you, watching you open up the little package. He wasn’t even around you the other day when you said you’d been having a hard time sleeping recently, and now? You had lavender incense and some candles– peach scented. Along with the aromas, he also presented you with a small plush toy.

“How the hell did you know that I like Miffy?” you asked, raising your eyebrow at him. “Scratch that– how do you even know what Miffy is?”

Bucky shrugged beside you. “You’re not the only one that notices everything.”

“So you just… never talked to me, but you remembered everything I ever said? Even when you weren’t in the same room as me?” you mused. You took out the small bunny toy and placed it on your desk like a little guardian watching over your med lab. You tapped on its head, a smile coming onto your face. 

“I’ve had a crush on you for a while, doll,” he said, as if it was old news. “I just didn’t really know how to approach.”

“So you thought depositing a gun in my room was the best way to approach me?” you questioned, turning to look at him. 

Bucky paused, the words going over his mind and filtering through. The man took a slow, deep breath before meeting your gaze. Then, he smiled. That same smile that made you go weak and dizzy in the head. “Kinda romantic, right?”

The sheer audacity of him made you roll your eyes, a scoff falling from your lips not too long afterwards. Even so, you couldn’t help but mirror his smile. You did have to admit it– fine. It was a little romantic. 

“And here I thought, we were gonna be friends,” you teased lightly.

“I told you, sweetheart– we’re not gonna be friends,” he shook his head.

“Oh? Then what are we going to be?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Lovers,” he said, like it was the most obvious answer. “Do you think I just take my shirt off and tell you to look at a contusion without any ulterior motives?”

“You keep saying it was a contusion to make it sound worse than it actually was, but it was literally a bruise, Bucky,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You’re sick in the head for that.”

“And you’re a pervert,” he accused. “I could feel you staring at me. Don’t tell me that you weren’t.”

“I’m the pervert?” you repeated, eyebrows up to your hairline.

Bucky hesitated for just a second as he looked at you. His eyes roamed over your face for a few moments, then he shrugged. “Well, I don’t think I can really say much. I really liked seeing you on your knees that one day.”

You slapped his arm, the smack resounding off the walls of your lab, quickly followed by the rumble of his laughter. You stood up, needing to take a second to get away from him as heat crawled back up your neck and threatened to appear on your face. 

“And I thought you were a gentleman,” you huffed, moving to turn towards your workbench.

Bucky’s hands caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. The action was so smooth– so quick, but so gentle all at the same time. You found yourself standing between his knees, barely any space between your bodies as he looked up at you. His hands slid down from your wrists to rest into your hands, lacing your fingers together.

“I can be a gentleman, sweetheart,” he told you, the softness of his voice matching the look in his eyes. “Is that what you want from me?” 

“You… are on bedrest, soldier,” you warned.

“What do you mean?” The corners of Bucky’s lips curled upwards slightly. “I’m not doing anything– is there something that you want me to be doing?”

Maybe you were the pervert after all.

All Bucky was doing was sitting there before you, looking up at you with those blue eyes that seemed to hold the world, and a soft smile on his face like you had given him that world– and you were coming undone. 

Was there something that you wanted him to be doing to you? Absolutely. You.

“Something about the way you’re looking at me right now tells me you don’t want me to be a gentleman right now,” he murmured to you, releasing one of your hands in favor of reaching up for your face.

“You spend too much time watching me if you can tell what my thoughts are just from looking at me,” you whispered back. You leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull you down into him until your forehead rested against his.

“You were mine before you even realized it, doll.” 

“Could’ve just hit on me sooner, y’know. Didn’t have to come here asking me to look at papercuts—”

“Shut up,” he sighed, his hand slipping to the back of your neck to close the remainder of the distance between you two. 

You could feel the smile on his lips against your own as he kissed you, tugging you impossibly closer to him. Your hands flattened against his chest for stability, a soft hum escaping your throat. 

Bucky’s teeth caught at your bottom lip, dragging down lightly until you willingly granted him the entry he was asking for. His tongue glided over yours, the hand at the back of your head pressing you deeper into him. 

He tasted sweet— like plums with a hint of syrup. You wanted more of it, wanted to consume him and his entire being into you. Thankfully, it seemed like he felt the same way. 

You found yourself fully situated on his lap, legs framing his hips. One of his arms looped around your waist, hand pressed onto your upper back to hold you against him as he kissed you harder. A sigh fell from your lips, one that he greedily swallowed up for himself. 

He pulled away, but didn’t stray too far. 

Bucky peppered kisses down your jawline and neck. You could only tilt your head to the side, giving him the space to play with whatever he wanted. 

“You’re so soft, sweetheart,” he murmured against your neck— right before he sucked a bruise right onto your skin. 

You forced back a gasp, your body tingling and screaming under his touch. He pressed his lips against the wound, tongue gently lapping over to soothe. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.—“ you called out, cut off by another nip of his teeth on your neck. You swallowed thickly, trying to get your bearings as you buried your hands into his hair, tugging him away from you to give you some space to think. 

“Yes, doctor?” the A.I. spoke, waiting for your instruction. 

You were breathless, just from one kiss and two hickeys. Bucky stared up at you, eyes filled with innocence, lips slightly swollen from the kiss you shared with him. From where your other hand rested, you could feel his heartbeat thrumming against his neck. 

“Block the glass, lock the doors, and turn the lights down. If anyone asks for me, I’m not here,” you ordered. 

“Understood.”

The room dimmed around you, and all doors slid shut. The glass and windows in your med bay turned to frost, while the blinds and curtains quickly got drawn shut. On the outside— it looked like you weren’t in. 

“Turning the lights down, doll?” Bucky whispered to you, a hint of tease in his voice. “Creating a mood for us?”

“Be quiet,” you muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Bedrest. Now.” 

“Something tells me that this isn’t the same bedrest you prescribed,” he whispered.

“You don’t want me, soldier?” you asked, tugging on his hair again. 

A low groan escaped his lips, and his eyes shut for a second. You watched how his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Don’t put words in my mouth, sweetheart.”

Bucky stood, carrying you with him as he crossed the room. He laid you down onto one of the recovery beds in your lab— the same beds that you would nap on if you ever spent too much time working. You were certain that Bucky knew that about you, too. 

His weight gently blanketed you as his lips caught yours again. Bucky slotted himself between your legs as if he’d always belonged there, like there was no place that he should’ve ever been. You wrapped your arms around his neck, a soft moan pulled from your lips as his hands dipped under the hem of your shirt, seeking skin. 

The contrast of the cool, smooth metal against the warm, calloused texture of his organic hand was enough to make your head spin. His hands continued their journey, fingers stopping just at the edge of your bra. 

“Is this okay?” he muttered against your lips. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s okay, Buck.”

He exhaled slowly, breath mingling with yours as his hands ventured beneath the last piece of clothing. He cupped the mounds, feeling the weight of you, and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck– I might die,” he whispered, massaging your breasts slowly.

“What?” you breathed out, trying to focus on his words as his fingers caught the hardening peaks of your nipples. 

“I might die, sweetheart,” he repeated to you, eyes glued to your chest even though he couldn’t see anything from the layers of fabric over his hands.

“You’re not allowed to. I want you inside me.”

Bucky’s eyes shot up to you, brain malfunctioning for a second. Then, he dropped his head down to your neck. He was trying to catch his breath– and you hadn’t even done anything to him. This reaction was purely from your words, from just touching one part of you.

“I’m trying real hard to be a gentleman here,” he murmured against your skin.

You huffed, reaching between the two of you. Bucky’s body twitched as you undid the tie of his sweatpants, loosening the fabric around his waist. Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of the fabric, feeling him waiting for you. 

“You can be a gentleman while you fuck me,” you murmured, taking him in your hand. A low moan filled your ears as you began to stroke him– the hard, heavy length of him. 

You could feel his resolve breaking apart with every single slow pump of your hand. Bucky groaned into your neck with each of your movements, his hips pressing deeper into your hand as if to assist you. 

You could feel him throb in your hand, a thick vein coming to life against your palm. You took him from the very tip, thumb brushing over the head of him and smearing over the bead of precum that leaked over, and ran it all the way down to the base of him. 

Part of you thought it was a waste. You wanted to lick it up– swallow whatever leaked out of him. You wondered if you would be able to convince him to let you get down on your knees again for him.

Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to entertain the idea any farther. His hand gripped at your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants as he sat up. His chest was rising and falling in slow, barely even breaths as he stared down at you.

The softness you saw earlier was gone. It was replaced with hunger, desire– you were about to be consumed by him. A tingle ran throughout your body, going straight down into your core as he reached for the buttons of your pants.

He moved slowly, peeling the fabric off of you like you were a present to unbox. Bucky even unlaced your boots, gently removing them and resting them onto the floor neatly before he was able to remove the rest of your pants. You could only watch with bated breath as he folded it, and put it on the bedside table, then turned back to you.

“Look at you,” he whispered, already shifting downwards onto the bed. “So pretty.”

He parted your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders before pressing a featherlight kiss to the inside of your thigh. He continued forth, more kisses trailing upwards towards where you need him most, but you couldn’t dare breathe a word to rush him– not when he was holding you like you were something precious, not when he was pressing kisses against your skin that felt more sincere than anything you’d ever heard before. 

“Do you like these panties?” he asked you, glancing up to your face.

“They’re comfortable,” you answered, resting up onto your elbows to look at him.

“You have more?”

“Yeah–”

The sound of fabric ripping filled your ears, then you watched as he chucked the ruined article to the side like it meant nothing. You didn’t even have a chance to say a word before his mouth closed around your heat, taking you in. Your head dropped back against the pillows, a shaky moan escaping your lips as his tongue flatted against you, then parted your folds. 

Bucky groaned at the taste of you, eyes fluttering shut like you were the best thing he had ever had. His hands tightened around your hips, tugging you closer to his face– trying to drown himself in you as his tongue nudged at your entrance, just barely dipping in and out. His nose brushed against your swollen clit, and your legs trembled around his head.

“Bucky–” you moaned, hands reaching for his.

His fingers laced with yours, and he hummed in acknowledgement. The vibrations only made your hips twitch against him, lifting off the bed and up into his face. You couldn’t help it– you were chasing the pleasure that he was giving you just with his tongue alone. 

Bucky’s thumbs brushed against the back of your hand in quiet encouragement– as if to tell you to let go whenever you wanted to. You wouldn’t be the one to deny him, not when he was giving it to you so deliciously. 

You came apart with his name on your lips, his head between your legs, and his fingers intertwined with yours. Bucky kept lapping up your arousal, desperate to not let a single drop go to waste. 

“Buck– shit– too much,” you gasped out, trying to wiggle yourself away from him.

A soft grunt came from him, but he relented. He came up for fresh air, licking his lips as he did. You caught the way your own slick glistened against his chin, how he looked so satisfied with himself– Jesus. It was a sight to behold. 

“Need you,” you whispered. 

“I’m all yours,” he replied. 

Bucky lowered himself back onto you without another second to waste. You could taste yourself on his tongue– the saltiness mixed with sweet. You craved more of him– all of him. You nearly cried out in relief when you felt him tug down the fabric of his sweats, pooling them around his knees.

You both moaned into each other's mouths as his cock pressed against your folds. Slowly, his hips moved, covering himself in your juices, the tip of his length nudging and catching on your clit every few moments. A shaky breath fell from his lips as you angled your hips just slightly, and his length caught slightly on your entrance. 

Very slowly, he stretched you out. Neither of you could say a word– you could hardly breathe as you took him in. You felt every single ridge and vein of his dick entering you, splitting you open and forcing you to learn the shape of him. 

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned above you, hips fully flushed against yours.

You could only nod in silent agreement, barely meeting his eyes. His breathing was labored as he looked down at you, eyes roaming all over your body before landing back onto your face. Bucky reached for you, and pulled your shirt up over your chest, taking your bra with it.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, grinding his hips against yours before he started at a slow pace. His hands ran up and down your torso, as if he was trying to memorize every part of you, catching every single contour of your shape. 

“You– you’re pretty, too,” you barely managed to force out as his thrusts naturally picked up speed, his cock dragging in and out of you in deep, hard strokes. 

Something mixed with a chuckle and a low moan ripped from this throat as he smiled down at you. Again– absolutely catastrophic. You couldn’t help but clamp down around him at the sight, and felt as his hips stuttered against yours. 

“You think I’m pretty, sweetheart?” he whispered, falling back into rhythm quickly. He found purchase at your waist, pulling you into him with each thrust, meeting you halfway– the pressure he was building was making you go insane.

“Mm– mmhm,” you nodded frantically, reaching to grab onto his wrists– his biceps– something to hang onto as he picked up the pace. “Your arms– fuck your arms are so pretty, Buck.”

“Knew you liked ‘em,” he chuckled, hips snapping into yours harder than before. A sharp cry ripped from you, as you dug your nails into him. “I always feel you staring, especially the left one. You really like this one, huh?”

Excitement shot through your body as you felt his vibranium hand trail up and close around your neck. Even against the dimmed lights of the med bay, the onyx and gold detailing still shimmered like stars against your eyes. You couldn’t help it– your walls clenched around him, fluttering madly.

You didn’t even need to warn him. Bucky’s efforts doubled in an instant, his cock hitting you deeper with renewed fervor. His other hand slipped between the two of you, fingers beginning to rub tight circles into your swollen clit. His metal hand tightened, just ever so slightly around your neck– and you were done for.

Bucky groaned out your name as you came on his cock, legs twitching on either side of his hips as he continued to fuck you through your high. It was too much, yet still not enough at the same time.

“Gonna– god, I’m close,” he grunted, his hands migrating towards your hips as he chased his own climax, using your body. “You’re so– fuck, you’re so warm, doll. So warm and wet and so fuckin pretty–”

His own words were cut off, your name falling from his lips once more in a choked out moan as his hips faltered against yours. You could feel his cock inside of you, trembling and pulsating as he emptied himself within you, painting you with a warmth that made you shiver beneath him. 

Bucky caught himself before he collapsed over you, forearms caging you on either side of your head. His breath fanned against your face as his forehead rested against yours. You tilted your head upwards, pressing a kiss to his lips– one that he returned right away. He kissed you slowly, moving against you with unhurried passion, just reverence and affection.

Slowly, his cock softened within you. The two of you sighed against each other as you felt him slip out. You could feel the remnants of him leaking out of you and onto the bed, but you would deal with it later. For now, all you could focus on was Bucky’s lips and the kisses he pressed all over your face.

Before long, Bucky carried you onto another bed– one that wasn’t soiled by your sinful activities. The two of you naturally shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, you tucked into Bucky’s chest with his arms thrown around you. 

“You still think we’re friends?” he whispered into your hair. You could hear the smile in his voice, and you nudged yourself deeper into his warmth.

“I’m gonna put you on bedrest for another two weeks,” you warned, though there was no edge to your voice. In fact, it came out a little sleepy. “You’re obligated to report to me daily in the med bay.”

“You’re threatening me with a good time, sweetheart,” he chuckled, squeezing you tighter against him. 

“That’s the point,” you muttered, settling into him. “You like my version of bedrest.”

Bucky didn’t argue with you, but you already knew that he wouldn’t. The soldier pressed another kiss to your hairline, then shifted to cradle your face, angling your head upwards towards him. His lips met yours once more in a brief peck– just to let you know that he agreed with your treatment plan. 

masterlist | bonus headcanon

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy @star-yawnznn @gallifreyansass @nanikio @jmclouds @sundaepoet @the-salty-asian @overwintering-soldier @kjmonster111 @okaytrashpanda @wandanatissuperior @bbyanarchist

[hcmoanima]

His head was pounding with pain. He keeps searching his mind for the moment he had been taken by Sirei. How did no one notice? He didn't want to ask. Maybe Eito didn't even know. Hell, he probably didn't... But he had to ask anyway. Because Eito was smart.

"Do you think they knew what he was doing to me...?" He needed the answer to be no. That was what he was hoping for. But he couldn't shake the anxiety. He had been SCREAMING. Had no one heard him? Even Eito heard his weak begging...

He was thankful that Eito was leading them. The idea of not having to worry anymore was comforting. He had been the leader of the SDU. And... it was exhausting. It was never a role he was suited for, was it?

"I..." He felt a growing fear that Sirei had given him brain damage. That he would always feel like this. Maybe his wrist would heal. His muscles would stop being strained from the spasms... But would like heavy fog over his mind last forever? Would his head hurt until he died? Would he never think straight again?

"I don't think I can talk to them right now. I can't.... even remember all of their names." It was horrifying to think about.

"I feel like... nothing is real. Aotsuki... This is happening, right? Or am I still there.... Just dreaming this up?" There is a sense of deja vu which increases his pain tenfold.

"Well, I'm sure you could explain some things, but are you really sure they'd be willing to hear you out? You just killed their commanding officer in cold blood. Even me attempting to do that got me locked up in a cage until now. What do you think they'd do to YOU, knowing you actually went through with it?" Eito points out, leading the way through the ruins outside the school.

"You'd be labelled a filthy little hypocrite, that's for sure. Going through all that effort and travelling back in time to stop me from doing what you yourself just did. Can you really say for certain your friends will ever trust you again after that?" Eito continues to feed doubt into Takumi's vulnerable mind.

"But, it's okay if your friends reject you for your decision. I fully support you, after all! And as long as we're together, who needs anyone else. Just you and me, two best friends alone against the world. I'll be by your side from now on, so you don't have to worry about a thing going forward."