#I’m never going to recover from this patch

[bwootster]

Baby Kinich…. Sob… baby Kinich you deserved so much better…

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi Pookie

I wanted to request A Max daughter one like Max and Kelly had the baby and the reader is like 16-17 (she can drive) and she gets into a really really bad car accident (like so bad she was in a coma or something) and the hospital calls both but they don't answer since they're busy with the baby. they have been neglecting her. Until they called another driver and they went to her and like they lecture Max and Kelly.

Unanswered Calls

Part 2: Answered Calls

Yn gripped the steering wheel with shaky hands, her breathing uneven as she blinked back the sting of exhaustion. The streetlights blurred as rain splattered against the windshield, the rhythmic thudding of wipers doing little to clear her vision.

She was used to being on her own.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t asked. Earlier that afternoon, she had stood at the kitchen counter, bag in hand, waiting.

“Mom, Dad, I have ballet at six,” she had said, shifting her weight awkwardly as Kelly rocked the baby in her arms and Max tried to calm Penelope, who was throwing a fit about something.

Neither of them had even turned toward her.

“I can’t right now, sweetie,” Kelly had murmured distractedly, adjusting the baby’s tiny blanket.

“Ask your mom, I—Penelope, please, stop screaming,” Max had muttered, rubbing his temple as he tried to negotiate with his six-year-old daughter.

Yn had nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn’t ask again. She was used to this—being the afterthought, the independent one, the one who didn’t need attention because she never demanded it. So she had grabbed her car keys, not trusting herself to be upset.

Now, barely an hour later, everything was going wrong.

Her tires hit a patch of water, hydroplaning before she could react. The world spun. A blaring horn. The sharp, crunching sound of metal on metal. A shock of pain. Then, blackness.

Daniel was halfway through dinner when his phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, expecting it to be some stupid spam call, but something made him glance down.

Unknown Number.

Frowning, he wiped his hands on a napkin before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Daniel?” A woman's voice, professional but urgent. “Daniel Ric—”

“Yes, yes, who is this?” He sat up straight, suddenly alert.

“This is St. James Hospital. Your goddaughter, Yn Verstappen, was in a severe car accident. You were listed as an emergency contact. We’ve been trying to reach her parents, but—”

Daniel was already on his feet, chair scraping against the floor. “Where is she? What happened?”

“She sustained significant injuries, including lung trauma. We had to place a chest tube to assist her breathing. The doctors have decided to keep her in a medically induced sleep for a few days to help her body recover.”

His stomach twisted. “And Max and Kelly? Her parents?”

“We’ve called multiple times. No answer.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “I’ll be there in ten.”

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something too clean to be comforting. Daniel rushed through the corridors, his pulse hammering in his throat as he found Yn’s room.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

She lay there, pale against the hospital sheets, her face bruised, her arm wrapped in gauze. Tubes ran from her chest, connected to a machine that beeped steadily.

A nurse—young, with kind eyes—stood by the bedside, adjusting the IV. She looked up as he entered. “Are you Daniel?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I’m Nurse Emily. She’s stable for now.”

He approached the bed slowly, his heart aching. “Jesus, kid…” He ran a shaky hand through his hair before sitting beside her.

For a moment, he just stared at her. Yn, who had always been so full of life, so determined to carve her own space in a world that never seemed to make room for her. Now she lay still, fragile in a way he had never seen before.

He reached out, brushing her hair from her forehead. “I’m here, Yn,” he whispered.

Emily hesitated before speaking. “You’re the first person who answered.”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “We called her parents over and over. No answer. No call back.”

Daniel’s hands curled into fists. “They didn’t even pick up?”

Emily shook her head. “Not once.”

Daniel let out a slow, furious breath. Then he pulled out his phone and called Max.

Voicemail.

He tried Kelly.

Voicemail.

Grinding his teeth, he left a message. “Max. Kelly. Your daughter is in the hospital. She was in a bad car accident. Call me back. Now.”

An hour passed. Nothing.

Two hours.

Three.

Four.

Yn remained unconscious, her chest rising and falling with the help of the machines. Daniel stayed at her side, his anger growing hotter with every minute.

When Max and Kelly finally walked through the door, he was ready.

Kelly looked tired. Max looked confused.

“Daniel, what’s going on?” Max asked, frowning.

Daniel stood up slowly. “What’s going on?” His voice was too calm. “You tell me, Max. Kelly. Where the hell have you been?”

Kelly blinked. “At home, we—”

“At home?” Daniel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Your daughter has been lying in this hospital bed for hours, and you were at home?”

Max’s expression darkened. “We didn’t get any calls.”

“Bullshit.” Daniel pulled out his phone and waved it. “I called you. The hospital called you. They tried for hours. But I guess you were too busy to notice your own daughter almost died.”

Kelly paled. “Died?” Her voice wavered as she looked at Yn. “Oh my God.”

Max took a step forward, but Daniel blocked him. “Don’t.” His voice was steel. “You don’t get to come in here now and pretend you care.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Of course we care.”

Daniel scoffed. “Do you? Because she drove herself to ballet since neither of you could be bothered. She’s seventeen, Max. A kid. But she didn’t even ask twice because she already knew the answer.”

Kelly looked away, shame creeping into her features.

Daniel continued, voice shaking with anger. “She was alone when the accident happened. Alone when they brought her here. And when the doctors needed her parents, where were you?”

Silence.

Daniel exhaled sharply. “She’s used to this, you know?” His voice was quiet now, but no less furious. “She’s used to being second to Penelope, to the baby, to everything else in your lives. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t make a fuss. She just… deals with it.” He swallowed hard. “But this? This she couldn’t deal with alone.”

Max ran a hand down his face, guilt creeping in. “I—”

“I don’t want excuses,” Daniel snapped. “I want you to do better.”

Kelly’s eyes filled with tears. “Can we see her?”

Daniel stepped aside. “She’s been waiting long enough.”

Max walked to the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for Yn’s fingers. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice broke.

Kelly sat on the other side, her hand covering her mouth as silent tears slipped down her face.

Daniel crossed his arms, watching.

They could cry all they wanted. But the real question was—would they change?

And for Yn’s sake, they damn well better.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you. No Part 2 requests, please.

-🩷🎀

[lhseungs]

* ˚ ✰    — ‘ KISS IT BETTER ’  p.sunghoon

. . . WARNING / TAGS: smut 18+, minors dni, masturbating, fingering, sunghoon just watching you masturbate, virginity losing (implied), praise

. . . SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend sunghoon walks in on you moaning his name while fucking yourself. wc - 775

. . . A/N: another literal copy and paste from my og blog oops. new works coming soon though so stay tuned!

two years. you and park sunghoon have been together for two years and still haven’t fucked, but you blame it on yourself. you’re always so hesitant when it comes to this, never going further than a makeout session with your boyfriend. you love him, you do, but your nerves took over every time you sat on his lap, tongue in his mouth and the boner so evident in his pants. you always felt bad cutting it short, sensing the disappointment in hoons eyes even though he’d tell you, “whenever you’re ready!”

the burr of the pink vibrator on your clit and your quiet moans were the only sound in your bedroom. a wet patch formed on your panties as you pressed the vibrator harder against you, growing bigger the longer time passed. you needed to release some pent-up stress that piled up throughout the day and what better way to do it than masturbating? all your plans were canceled for this moment, this moment of peace.

sunghoon crossed your mind. your sweet and wonderful boyfriend with his long and thick fingers, his long, messy black hair that you just wanna pull, his sweet and soft lips. unconsciously your fingers slid into your panties, vibrator getting momentarily cast aside. you inserted two fingers into your cunt and started thrusting, imagining it was his. sunghoon’s name fell from your lips, your back arching as you quickened your pace.

so enveloped in your pleasure, you didn’t hear keys rattling outside your front door. you didn’t hear your boyfriend call your name as he slammed the front door shut, and you definitely didn’t hear him drop bags in your kitchen as he headed to your bedroom door. no, all you heard was your moans echoing the room as you came, sunghoon’s name slipping through as well.

before being able to recover, your bedroom door opened revealing your tall boyfriend, white t-shirt too big on him revealing his collarbones, and black jeans growing too tight as a result of his hardening cock. “is my precious girl putting on a private show?” he asked, lips curling. “just for me?”

you didn’t even have a response for him, too embarrassed to even form words. you realized the vibrator was still on when all you were able to do was whimper in front of him. “turn that shit off,” sunghoon scoffed, walking closer to your bed to yank it off of your clit himself. “why use toys when i’m right here.”

“hoon-“ you muttered, not moving an inch as you watched your boyfriend take the vibrator and throw it to the side. he grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

his large hands rubbed up and down your thighs as he took in your beauty. “do you need a little help, sweetheart?” your eyes widened, but you nodded nonetheless. he instantly brought his hand to your soaking panties and moved the fabric away from your dripping cunt. “‘m gonna make you feel so, so good.”

sunghoon started with one finger, slowly inserting it into your pussy and thrusting it at a brutally slow pace. you were too stunned to even tell him to go faster. the fantasies that you were having just minutes earlier were coming to life, and god his fingers were better than you imagined. sunghoon inserted another finger and increased his pace.

your hands gripped the bedsheets, back arching as his fingers hit just the right spot. his long fingers reached places your own could barely skim, sending you to heaven. he moved up and faced you. “such a beauty for me,” he said, “and you’re all mine.” he crashed his lips into yours, sucking on your tongue as he continued to finger you. mouth still on yours, he thrust his fingers faster and harder and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning against his lips. you grabbed his hair, pulling it as sunghoon’s fingers curled in your pussy, making the knot in your abdomen tighten. you yanked him away

from your lips, moans fully echoing the room.

“fuck, fuck. sunghoon, FUCK!” you screamed his name, vision turning white. without being able to even tell him, you came, legs shaking as you creamed around your boyfriend’s thick fingers.

he pulled away from you completely and licked his fingers one by one, sucking your juices off his digits with a smirk on his lips. sunghoon locked eyes with you, still catching your breath from your orgasm.

“now, tell me,” he asked, pulling his pants down in the process. his cock sprang free from it’s restraints and your mouth watered at the sight. “wanna have a little more fun?”

. . . TAGLIST: @sailoryuns @gukkiebug @skibidihan @tobiosbbyghorl @wontechno

[demonic0angel]

Young Justice hanging out at Fenton Works, and meeting the Fenton Family. For whatever reason you choose.

Wonder Girl coughed lightly. “Uhm. It’s okay if we hide in here, right?”

Spirit nodded, as she guided her friends to her parents’ house. “Yeah, it’ll be okay. My parents should be home, but it’s alright, they’ll help us.” Without hesitation, she threw the doors open and called it, “Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

Two people popped their heads out of the kitchen window and beamed. “Dani!” A woman cooed. She was wearing a turquoise hazmat suit and cheerfully holding a turkey. “I didn’t know you were going to visit home!”

The man next to her, who was wearing an orange hazmat suit, grinned at them and then quickly ran off, calling, “We didn’t get enough food! Wait here! I’ll get another turkey!”

“Get three!” Dani’s mom called before she ushered everyone in. Impulse had already rushed inside and was inspecting everything enthusiastically, but she didn’t even seem to care. “Aww, are these your friends, Dani? They look a little bloody— is that normal?”

It was Superboy who answered respectfully, “We’re sorry for intruding, ma’am. Uh, we were nearby due to an interdimensional demon and we needed a place to lay low for a while and recover. If that’s okay, ma’am.”

Dani’s mom beamed. “Oh, that’s perfectly fine! I’m so glad my baby girl has friends! Jazz and Danny never bring their friends around anymore. They’ve all moved out, you see, so we’ve been feeling a bit of empty nest syndrome. Come in, we’ll feed you and you can all rest!”

Everyone gave each other relieved looks and then thanked Dani’s mom who waved it off, pushing them into the bathroom to wash their hands and the blood off. Dani immediately set out to patch everyone up, grinning all the while as they were all squished into the tiny bathroom.

“Your mom seems nice,” Anita said. She looked vaguely shocked by everything.

“Yeah, she and Dad adopted me and Dan even when they didn’t need to,” Dani said. She quickly slapped a bandaid onto Slobo’s arm, who was already healed from his regeneration abilities, before she moved onto Red Robin, who was quiet and still masked.

Cassie asked, “Would we be a bother? I know my mom would be furious if we ever came to her like this.”

“Nah. They’re ghost hunters and Danny is a hero too, remember? They know what it’s like to raise heroes, so it’s fine.”

Dani cheerfully patched them all up and then they were quickly seated at the dinner table, where Dani’s dad had already came back with three more turkeys and a whole bunch of other groceries, quickly whipping up a feast for their impromptu guests.

“We should visit more often if we get to eat all of this every time,” Slobo said with a grin.

“You really don’t need to do this,” Cassie said, looking guilty. “It’s enough to just let us rest. We can’t finish all of this food!”

“I can!” All of the boys chorused and received the nastiest glare from their leader for their exclamation. They all smiled at her in varying levels of sheepishness.

Dani’s mom beamed. “It’s no trouble at all! You kiddos can eat, we’ll take care of the demons for you! Oh, and you, ghost-girl-that’s-not-my-daughter! We have food for you too!”

Suzie’s eyes widened. “You do?”

Dani smiled brightly. “Told you they’re the best! C’mon! Let’s eat!”

As they ate, Dani’s parents geared up in more guns and weapons before marching out the door.

“Remember to wash the dishes!” Dani’s dad said. “There’s brownies and ice cream in the fridge! Heat up the brownies slowly in the toaster oven! The microwave is contaminated again, so don’t use it until we disinfect it.”

“Okay! Got it, dad. Thanks again! Good luck!”

Red Robin leaned in close to Bart, who was chowing down noisily. “Is this what having attentive, present, and supportive parents feels like?”

[heliosunny]

Hi, can i request for a Yan Mydei with a vampire readerr?? Like how you do with Phainon, but instead the reader is th one who willingly tried to drain all the blood from him not knowing his noble (?) identity

i hav an idea about him, a human, being half dead in near the vampire's house, so they took him in and tend his wounds only for him to find out that theyre keeping him as a food(?) but soon his men will lookout for him and rescue him only for him to come back to reader?? pleasee, i'm craving more mydei x reader from u

Yandere!Prince Mydei x Vampire!Reader

You hadn't fed in days. The moment the aroma reached you, you moved instinctively, the forest around your manor blurring as you followed the trail.

A man lay slumped against a mossy boulder, his cloak soaked crimson. A sword wound tore through his side, and arrows pierced his thigh and shoulder. Yet even on death’s edge, he clutched a bloodied dagger.

He didn’t even flinch when you knelt beside him.

“…Are you Death?”

You didn’t answer.

His blood smelled divine, so you brought him home.

You licked the blood from his skin to close his wounds, fed sparingly to preserve his strength. But you didn’t know who he was.

If you know anything about the royal family, you’ve heard of Prince Mydei—the second-born son, abandoned and cast aside by his own kin. His elder brother, consumed by envy, could not bear the way the nobles whispered of Mydei’s talents, his striking looks, or the loyalty he inspired. So, in the shadows, the crown prince sent assassins to silence him forever. And you—you wouldn’t be foolish enough to save him.

He survived.

Now, he’s recovering in your manor, watched over by you, his mysterious savior. You think he’s a lost traveler.

But every time you bring him food, every time you touch his skin to check his healing wounds, his eyes follow you with such intensity.

“You saved me... Why?”

“Didn’t want the blood to go to waste.” you said flatly. “You’re a walking feast.”

You started walking toward him, your steps silent on the wooden floor. “I figured I’d patch you up. Let you ripen a little.”

“…Meal?” His brows knit faintly.

You reached the edge of the bed and tilted your head.

His eyes widened. He tensed as your legs straddled his hips, your body sliding over his. “I’m a vampire” you whispered, your breath brushing his throat. “You didn’t figure it out from the whole ‘blood licking’ thing?”

“You—” His voice faltered as your fingers brushed back his hair.

“Don’t worry” you said, “I won’t take too much.”

Then your lips pressed to his neck, and your fangs sank in.

His body jolted beneath you, fingers clutching the sheets. A hundred years of hunger wouldn’t have prepared you for the taste of him.

He tried to speak—maybe to resist, maybe to beg—but his strength was fading fast.

Moments later, he slumped beneath you.

You pulled back, licking the blood from your lips. “Tch… You’re weak” you muttered, brushing his hair away from his dazed face. “That’s no fun.”

You slid off him and leaned back lazily against the pillows, watching his chest rise and fall.

When he woke up, the room was quiet.

He looked around—but you weren’t there.

Only a neatly folded note sat on the table nearby, beside a tray of food.

"Eat. Don’t bleed out again."

That was all.

The days passed in fragments.

You were never home when he awoke. Just more notes. More food. Sometimes an extra bandage, a cloth soaked in herbs. Sometimes silence.

By night, he’d wait for the sound of the door—only to find you passing through like a shadow. You’d glance at him, then head to another room as if he didn’t exist.

He started trying to stay awake longer. He sat on the bed, waiting. But every time, you’d return late, and sleep always claimed him before you came close.

And so, it continued.

Until one evening.

You opened the door to his room just before sunset. He was pretending to be asleep again.

But this time… you stayed to check.

He was healing well. The color had returned to his face.

You turned to leave, but his eyes fluttered open. He didn’t say anything—but there was something burning in them.

The next day, for once, you didn’t disappear.

You stood by the wall, arms folded, watching as he quietly ate the food you left him.

When he finished, he wiped his mouth slowly, then looked up.

“…You’re leaving again?”

“I have things to do.”

His fingers brushed your sleeve, “Wait.”

You stopped.

Glanced back over your shoulder.

“Don’t be too kind” you warned, stepping back toward him with a gleam in your eyes. “People might take advantage of that.”

But he didn’t move when you leaned in.

Didn’t flinch when your hand brushed his neck.

Didn’t even blink when you straddled him again, your fingers tilting his chin up.

“Like me.”

Your fangs sank in without hesitation.

He gasped, but… there was no struggle. His hands gripped your arms. He held you closer.

-----

You smelled the fever before you even stepped into his room. His blood was boiling in his veins, you cursed under your breath.

“That’s what happens when you feed a vampire and let them treat you like a wineskin.”

You soaked a cloth and pressed it to his forehead, fingers brushing his cheek.

“…You better not die on me now.”

Still, even in his fevered sleep, he leaned into your hand.

You left before sunrise, locking the door behind you.

He wouldn’t wake for hours anyway.

You needed medicine, food… and answers.

Because last night, in town, you overheard the whispers.

A prince gone missing. Not just any prince—the second one. The one the crown prince had always seen as a threat. Rumors swirled that it was a staged accident… or an ambush.

That night, under the veil of darkness, you paid the palace a visit.

Not through the front gate, of course.

The crown prince slept alone, golden rings on his fingers, a goblet still full on the bedside table.

He woke to the press of cold fingers on his throat.

And before he could scream—

Later, you pulled back with a disgusted snarl and spat into his sheets.

“Yuck.”

He was unconscious before he even realized what you were.

By the time you returned, it was nearly dawn again.

You opened the door silently, the faint light of your lantern casting golden warmth across the room. Mydei was still resting—sweating less, breathing evenly, his fever finally passed.

You sat beside him and rested the basket of supplies on the floor.

That prince’s blood left a foul taste in your mouth. You needed something real to wash it out.

You climbed back on top of Mydei, easing your weight onto him like you had before.

“…You came back…”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Had to rinse the taste of garbage from my mouth.”

He didn’t understand what that meant.

But he let you drink.

Even now, just barely recovered—he offered himself to you willingly.

And you took it.

--------

You swore humans were something else.

Even after all the times you'd sunk your fangs into him, draining his strength and leaving him dizzy with fever, he still flinched and blushed like some sheltered maiden every time you barged in.

Like this morning.

You pushed open the door without a word—just to check on him—and there he was, mid-change, shirt halfway over his head.

You stared.

He turned crimson.

You rolled your eyes.

“Relax,” you muttered. “Not like I haven’t seen more than that while drinking you dry.”

He didn’t respond. Just yanked his shirt down and sat at the edge of the bed, trying to hide the fact he couldn’t meet your eyes.

That should’ve made your appetite wane, but—if anything—it deepened the hunger.

You tilted your head, watching him. His heartbeat was steady again. But your instincts warned you: he was still recovering. Your “walking blood supply” wasn’t ready for another feast just yet.

Ugh.

But you couldn’t have him dropping dead. Not yet. Not when he’d just started tasting good again.

So you spent the afternoon rummaging through your old tomes—dusty, brittle, half-forgotten until now.

And finally, you found one.

A rare herb. Said to regenerate blood thrice as fast. Strengthen the body. Even make the blood sweeter over time.

Perfect

Without delay, you threw on your cloak and grabbed your satchel.

But just as you stepped toward the door, Mydei called out behind you, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re leaving?”

You paused.

“…Yeah.”

“Where to?”

“Somewhere far. I’ll be back.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

You smirked, tugging your cloak tighter. “You’ll slow me down. Besides, I’ve got others to feed on if needed.”

That shut him up.

As the door shut behind you, the air in the house turned heavy.

And Mydei sat back on the bed, “…Others, huh…”

He didn’t believe that. He couldn’t.

But still… Why did it hurt so much to hear?

The journey was brutal.

The herb grew deep within a cursed forest, guarded by illusions and creatures that hated anything living—or undead. You battled through fog that whispered in your ears, creatures that clawed at your cloak, mud that swallowed your boots, and shadows that tried to rip your senses apart.

But you made it.

You clutched the herb in your hand like a trophy.

It was worth it.

You knew what this herb meant: he would recover faster, grow stronger, become yours for longer. And maybe, just maybe… you wouldn’t have to hold back next time you fed.

The thought made your blood stir.

The second you stepped inside your house, the door slammed behind you with a loud click.

Mydei stood there.

You noticed the fine magic thread strung across the floor. The faint shimmer of runes etched on the walls. The scent of crushed herbs—some of yours—burned into a faint ward.

Your brows rose.

“…You little snake.”

“You were gone for three days”

You raised the herb lazily. “Brought you a gift, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even glance at it.

“You lied,” he muttered, “You said you had others to feed on.”

“Jealous, are we?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just thought I owed you a proper welcome.”

Your grin grew sharp.

“Well,” you said, shrugging off your cloak. “You’ve got my attention now.”

You took a single step forward—

And the trap flared beneath your feet.

Your knees buckled slightly as the energy locked your limbs.

“Sit”

You had to obey.

He stood tall in front of you, finally holding the upper hand—or so he thought.

“I’ll give you what you want” Mydei said, “My blood. But from now on, only under my conditions.”

You watched him. His pride warring with the way his pulse sped up just standing this close to you. You could smell the heat in his blood.

It made your mouth water.

“And what conditions,” you drawled, “does my little hostage offer?”

“No biting unless I allow it,” he said firmly. “No sneaking into my room.”

You snorted. “You think you get to own me now?”

He stepped closer. “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

So you waited until he was close enough.

You leaned in.

He thought you were accepting his terms.

You smirked faintly, the crushed herb still between your cheek and tongue. You whispered against his lips:

“Too slow.”

And kissed him. He gasped.

And you took that moment to shove the bitter herb down his throat with your tongue.

His eyes widened as he instinctively swallowed, choking slightly at the sharp, earthy taste.

You grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm upward—mouth pressing into the soft skin just above his inner elbow. The vein there thrummed like music beneath your lips.

You bit.

Harder than usual.

“You—cheated—” he managed to whisper.

You sucked deep, your hand gripping his waist to keep him from falling.

Then finally, when his legs wobbled and his breathing hitched—you pulled away.

“You’ll thank me,” you said coolly. “That herb’s going to make you stronger than ever. You’ll be able to handle so much more of me.”

“...You're insane” he whispered, half in awe, half in breathless disbelief.

You smiled.

“Maybe.”

Then you pushed him onto the floor.

“I hope you recover fast. Because next time, I’m not going to stop until I’ve had all of you.”

----

You expected that herb to make him recover quicker—he should’ve been bouncing back, your little blood bag practically glowing with vitality by now.

But the bite on his arm was still healing.

The skin was bruised. No signs of the usual quick regeneration. It had been days.

You squinted at it when he wasn’t looking.

Something wasn’t adding up.

“…Can you reach the top shelf?” you asked lazily.

Mydei, ever eager to be helpful, nodded and moved to stand on his toes—stretching upward, fingers brushing the jars of dried herbs.

His back was to you.

A perfect moment.

Quietly, you slipped behind him, eyes locking on the side of his neck.

No.

Too obvious.

Your gaze dropped lower—to the soft skin between his shoulder blades. Covered just barely by the loose hem of his shirt. An untouched spot.

Your lips parted.

And you bit.

“Ah—!” he jolted, hands smacking into the shelf as jars clinked loudly. “W-What the hell?!”

You hummed around the flesh, holding him in place with your grip on his hips. It was a small bite, shallow. You drank just a little. Enough to taste the faint herbal sweetness still lingering in his blood.

“Y-You can’t just bite me out of nowhere—!”

“Shh”. You pressed two fingers to the bite, watching intently.

The skin was already sealing.

Interesting.

“So it’s not the herb…”

“H-Huh?”

You leaned back against the wall, licking your thumb as your mind turned.

“It’s the spot,” you said aloud, more to yourself than to him. “Or maybe the duration.”

He blinked at you, shirt half-fallen down his shoulder, flustered and confused. “What are you—?”

“The longer I suck from the same place…” You stepped forward again, “The more damage it takes. The slower it heals.”

He backed up against the shelf.

“That’s why your arm still looks like a bruised peach.”

“You could’ve just asked me to—”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured, dragging your finger across the newly bitten spot. “But this… this opens up options.”

You leaned closer, lips brushing his ear.

“I’ll just have to find fresh spots each time.”

-----

It wasn’t just you who changed.

At first, Mydei had flinched. Shied away. Hid the marks under layers of cloth and half-hearted glares.

But lately…

You noticed the shift.

He no longer yelped when you leaned in. He stopped trying to cover the bites. And sometimes—just sometimes—when your teeth sank into his skin, he’d lean in ever so slightly.

He wanted more of that.

So when you were away one night, he found the old alchemy book tucked behind your things. Inside were potions, ingredients, little scrawled notes in the margins.

And one page caught his eye.

Bloodlust Enhancer.

A simple potion. Nothing too suspicious—just enough to heighten a vampire’s thirst.

He read it again.

And again.

You’d scribbled “dangerous if used frequently” beside it.

He smiled.

And started brewing.

The next evening, you returned to your cozy hideaway.

He greeted you with a smile, already in the kitchen. “You look like hell” he said gently, offering you a mug of warm tea.

You took it with a scoff. “I am hell.”

You sipped.

Bitter.

Spiced.

Sweet.

Your brows twitched, but you brushed it off. A taste like honey and heat hit your tongue, warming your throat as it slid down.

He watched you closely.

And, deliberately, he adjusted his shirt.

It slid lower across his collarbone.

And when he reached for a book, the hem of it rose, revealing the pale skin of his side.

You didn’t even notice you’d stepped closer.

Didn’t realize how badly your body wanted it until your fingers curled in his shirt and you pressed your lips to his skin, just above his ribs.

He gasped, already bracing for the bite.

You didn’t even warn him.

Your eyes rolled shut as a growl built in your throat.

His knees buckled.

He gripped the shelf behind him. His own breath stuttered from the pleasure of it.

He trembled beneath you, fingers twitching against your back.

“…What the hell was that?” You said after regaining your consciousness.

You didn’t see the empty vial hidden beneath the shelf behind him.

-----

It happened one night, after a particularly long feed.

“Make me a vampire.”

You blinked at him, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. “What?”

“I want to be like you.”

You sat back, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard all week.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re delirious.” You stood, brushing your hair out of your face. “You wouldn’t survive the transition. And even if you did, I’m not interested in making a mini-me.”

He sat up, “Then what am I to you?”

You glanced back at him with a flat stare. “My walking blood supply. You’re cute when you blush, and I like the taste of your blood. That’s all.”

You didn’t stay to see how his expression cracked.

He waited until you left again. For herbs, or ingredients—some errand that gave him just enough time to sneak away.

He didn’t take much. Just his coat and a hidden pendant he’d stuffed away in a drawer weeks ago.

It didn’t take long to find his men. They were still searching the outskirts.

“Your Highness!” one of them gasped, “You’re alive—! The crown prince said—”

“Don’t mention him” Mydei said coolly. “I have no intention of returning to that snake’s court.”

“But—”

“I found someone.” He looked off into the woods, where the path to your hideout lay shrouded in shadows. “Someone I’m staying for.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances.

“I need you to… hurt them.”

“Not kill, of course. And they’ll come to me.”

Silence followed.

------

The world spun.

Branches clawed at your clothes as you stumbled through the forest, your vision blurring.

Blood seeped down your side.

They came out of nowhere. You didn’t have the strength to fight all of them, not in your current state. You barely escaped with your life.

By the time you reached your door, your knees buckled. You nearly collapsed against the frame—but you dragged yourself inside.

“Mydei—”

He was already running out from the back room.

You didn’t even speak.

You just grabbed him.

Pushed him back, pinning him to the nearest surface. Your hands shook as you shoved his shirt up.

And your fangs sank into the skin just above his hip.

Your nails dug into his sides as your lips sealed over the bite, drawing blood like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

And he felt it.

Something was different this time.

Your fangs hit deeper, and something in him responded.

By the time you finally pulled away, he was pale and shaking, his hands gripping onto your shoulders to stay upright.

“You…” you panted, still leaning into him. “Your blood… feels different.”

“So do you.”

You stared at each other for a moment.

----

You were resting for once—deep in sleep, finally letting your body heal.

Mydei sat nearby, a book open on his lap though his eyes never moved along the lines. His senses were buzzing.

Every crackle of the fire. Every heartbeat from the forest outside.

He could still feel the echo of your fangs in his body, the lingering euphoria bleeding into something else.

He heard it then.

Crunch.

A twig snapped outside.

His head snapped up.

Footsteps—three, maybe four.

He was on his feet before he realized it.

The knock came a second later.

“Your highness?” a voice called. “We heard word from the village—someone saw you. We’re here to bring you back.”

They were here to take him.

He opened the door slowly. The men looked relieved at first, two stepping forward.

“Your highness, we feared the worst—”

He grabbed the first one by the throat.

The second man barely had time to draw his blade before Mydei was on him, sucked his blood dry.

Their blood filled his mouth— but it tastes like nothing.

The third man turned to run. Mydei caught him before he made it ten feet from the door.

It was over within minutes.

He stood alone outside your home, blood staining his hands, the corpses of loyal men crumpled around him.

He wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand, and when he stepped back inside, closing the door quietly, he looked toward your sleeping form.

No one could ever take him from you—not when he’d rather die than leave your side.

[wheneverfeasible]

It had just been a joke.

He’d been bleeding out, dying, the pain from the demobat bites fading as that unending cold started to seep into his limbs. He was dying and Dustin was crying over him and he didn’t want to say goodbye but what else was there to do?

Pounding footfalls and then Steve and Nancy and Robin were skidding to his side amongst the fallen demobats and Steve was telling him to hang on, to not die, that they were there. Nancy and Robin were tearing garments to wrap around his bites but he didn’t care overly much, figuring it was for nothing. Instead, he was focused on Steve’s hand in his, pleading with him to hold on, and it was clearly just him babbling, but he’d said he’d do anything Eddie wanted if he just hung on.

And really, what better time to come out as gay to your crush than on your deathbed? Or, death-patch-of-dirt anyways.

“Go on a date with me then, Harrington,” he coughed out, choking on blood that splattered on his chin. Sexy.

Steve was noticeably shocked, and confused, but he gamely agreed if Eddie just promised not to die. Eddie blacked out with a grin on his face. He’d thought that was it, thought it was all over, except then he started feeling pain again. Which fucking sucked. Kind of rude to feel pain in death, unless Hawkins had been right and he was in Hell now. Bummer.

But then he heard the beeping, felt the cold air being forced into his nostrils, and he blinked open eyes that felt glued shut. Things were all woozy and fuzzy, but he saw big brown eyes staring at him and a smile he’d never thought he’d see directed at him of all people, and Steve was holding his hand again and that was nice.

Apparently he’d been in a coma for a month. Hilarious.

Steve had told him he’d been begging him to wake back up, they all were, and Eddie was high enough on pain killers to tease, “Didn’t think I’d let you out of our date that easily did you, big boy?”

He’d fallen back asleep almost immediately afterwards, so he didn’t get to see Steve’s reaction to that one, which was probably for the best, all things considered. Except Steve kept coming back, and he kept up the joke about taking Eddie on a date once he was better, even using it as encouragement when Eddie wanted to just give up and die from the pain he was in due to the multiple surgeries he was recovering from and undergoing.

Despite all that, he slowly but surely healed, able to finally move into the small house the government’s hush money had bought for them with Wayne after they also got him cleared of all charges yadda yadda yadda. Pretty sick deal, all things considered. All it took was being framed for multiple murders done by a psychotic supervillain and nearly mauled to death by demon bats. Easy peasy.

When Steve had given him a time and date for their supposed date, Eddie was just happy that the guy was able to joke about it with him instead of freaking out in typical Straight Jock. Steve apparently acknowledged his crush and still wanted to be friends, which was better than he could hope for. Or so he thought.

Because there was Steve, on his front porch, flowers in hand and looking far spiffier than Eddie ever recalled him looking like before. It looked like he’d even gotten a haircut. Good lord.

And it was amusing really, truly it was funny how far Steve was willing to take the joke, but something broke inside Eddie too because he was For Real Super Gay For Steve Harrington, but for Steve it was Just A Joke. And Eddie couldn’t take it anymore.

He snapped, hurt by his feelings not being taken seriously, and ranted about ex-jocks and pretty straight boys who treated being queer like a joke. Though Steve looked shocked at first, he ended up just looking amused by the end, which annoyed Eddie further. He was just about to enter another diatribe when Steve cut him off with a simple sentence that took all the wind out of his sails and left him gaping like a fish.

“Thanks for calling me pretty, but I’m actually bisexual.”

Eddie blinked. Steve smiled. Flowers were pressed into his hand.

“Now, the only joke around here is thinking my date can wear sweatpants to our dinner reservations, so go change into something appropriate, Munson. Honestly.”

As Eddie was ushered to his bedroom to change into something more fitting than stained and holey sweatpants, he tried to figure out where he had, in fact, lost the narrative. Because it had just been a joke.

But somehow he had ended up with a first kiss, a real life boyfriend, and a happily ever after he never would have expected. Go figure.

[littlejoels]

“Accidents”

synopsis: after going on a run with joel and ellie despite joel’s request for you not to, you get hurt in the process, and joel helps you recover. word count: 1,4k warnings: smut, female receiving, use of curse words

joel has always had pretty eyes, guess seeing him this close and in the light you truly noticed how pretty and tired they are. the wrinkles in his face that haven’t yet been mirrored in yours—god, that thirty-year age difference was sometimes worrisome. you desperately want him to see you with crinkled eyes and wrinkles; brushing his hands through your grey hair like you did his when he goes—

“darlin, are you even listening to me?” he groans out on his knees, massaging your injured ankle. “this is why i tell your dumbass to stay and not go out on runs with me. i already have to keep myself safe and ellie safe, but you just…” he trails on about safety.

he wraps his thick hand, covering the entirety of your ankle. you can feel his calluses rub against your skin. it makes you wet just thinking of those same hands wrapped around your neck not even a day ago.

“you guys needed help and i didn’t want you to get hurt,” you manage to make a noise, putting your dirty thoughts away. “i’m young, meaning i’m strong… isn’t that a quote?”

on the run, joel, ellie, and you were spotted by clickers. trying to protect him, you jumped in front of him before a clicker got him, but as you killed the clicker, you twisted your ankle.

your handsome man lets out a groan and a laugh. “you’re lucky i put up with you.” he finishes the massage, wrapping it with medical tape. “you’re not going to be able to go to the movie night.”

“man, that blows,” you say, leaning on the pillow he brought out of the bedroom. “i wanted to see forrest gump. i’ve never seen it.”

he smiles, not reaching his eyes. “you and i are going to stay here until i patrol, and ellie will switch. you can see forrest gump another time.”

he grabs a blanket, covering your legs. you hadn’t noticed that it got cold, even though you were only in your panties and his flannel. you mumble a thank you, grabbing a book from the bookshelf next to you.

he picks you up, placing you on his lap, blanket still on you; rocking you back and forth, kissing your neck and biting your earlobe. aw man, what did you do… he always did that when he wanted to either have sex or he was upset but didn’t know how to express it.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you say, putting your book to the side and leaning closer to his touch.

“i just… i was scared… god, you just don’t listen sometimes,” he groans out, still sucking the skin around your ear. “i can’t always protect you, sweetheart.”

you nod against his lips as they travel down your neck. “next time i tell you we’re going to be okay… trust me… me and ellie came here after so much, so we can handle it.” he pulls your legs open, careful with your left ankle.

“i know—i know i’m just a little protective over ellie… i don’t want anything to happen to her.” you moan lowly as his hand finds the inside of your thighs. “i, uh—mhm—uh, i was worried about you too.”

joel's breath is hot on your skin as his mouth trails down your neck. his beard scratches against your pulse point, a coarse drag that makes your thighs twitch. his fingers press into the flesh just above your knee, working higher, the calloused pads teasing the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

you’re still wearing only his flannel, swallowing you whole, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, the top few buttons undone from when you tugged on the collar earlier, needing to breathe.

his hand brushes just beside the wet patch forming on your panties. he doesn’t move fast. joel never moves fast unless he’s angry or desperate, and right now he’s just worried and horny; trying to express it the only way he knows: by touching you.

“you’re real mouthy for someone laid up with a busted ankle,” he mutters, lips curled just slightly as he looks up at you from where he’s pressing soft kisses into your collarbone. “goin’ out there like you’re fuckin’ invincible.”

“i just wanted to help,” you breathe, trying not to writhe against his lap like a bitch in heat. his hand is under the blanket now, pushing it aside, fingers ghosting along your hip, then back down between your thighs again. your panties are soaked, practically clinging to your lips.

“help?” joel chuckles darkly, teeth scraping against the shell of your ear. “you’re damn near helpless now, sweetheart. can’t walk, can’t run. you’re stuck right here.” his fingers hook under the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs, slowly. the air is cold against your slick folds, but his fingers are warm—he's warm—thick digits sliding through your slit.

“you listening to me now?” he says gruffly, pushing two fingers into your cunt, slow and firm, the stretch making your breath hitch.

“mhm,” you murmur, thighs trembling. “i’m listening.”

“good,” he whispers, pumping those thick fingers in and out of you, the rhythm steady, relentless. “ ’cause i need you to listen when i tell you that if somethin’ ever happened to you, i’d lose my fuckin’ mind.”

your pussy clenches hard around his fingers, the rough rasp of his voice sending sparks down your spine. he curls his fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes your vision blur. his other hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair, holding you steady as he tongues the crook of your neck and bites down hard enough to bruise.

“joel—fuck,” you whimper, grinding helplessly against his hand, your fingers gripping his flannel, knuckles white.

he groans low in his throat, a gravelly, needy sound as his palm presses harder against your clit. “that’s it, baby. let me take care of you, yeah? you need this. after scarin’ the shit outta me.”

“i’m—i didn’t mean to—”

“shhh,” he cuts you off, sucking a mark into your throat that you’ll probaly feel for days. “you can say you’re sorry with your cunt.”

now that makes you moan. the sound rips from your throat as your hips start rocking against his hand without shame, soaking his fingers. he adds a third finger, making your whole body jolt.

“you hear that?” he growls against your ear, lips slick with spit. “listen to how wet you are, baby. drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand.”

slap, slap, slap—the obscene noise of his fingers plunging in and out of your pussy echoes in the small room. you grip his shoulder, nails digging into the soft flannel, trying to anchor yourself as your orgasm coils tighter.

“i was fuckin’ scared,” joel whispers again, almost broken now, voice cracking as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. “thought i was gonna lose you. and the worst part? i wouldn’t even know how to go on. not after everythin’.”

“i’m here,” you manage to gasp, barely able to speak as the pleasure crescendos. “i’m here, joel.”

“show me,” he growls.

your whole body jerks when he flicks your clit with just the right pressure, and the dam breaks. you cry out, grabbing at him as your orgasm crashes over you, pussy clenching hard around his fingers, body trembling in his lap. he doesn't let up, fucking you through it until you’re twitching.

joel pulls his fingers out slowly, smearing your slick all over your inner thigh, then dragging them up to his mouth. he sucks each one clean, eyes locked on yours, expression unreadable.

“you’re stayin’ here next time,” he says, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “don’t care how young or strong you are. if you want to be useful, you stay alive.”

you nod, still panting, chest heaving.

he kisses your temple, soft and slow. “next time, you tell me what’s goin’ on in that stubborn head before you throw yourself into danger.”

you grin, still hazy. “next time, you just fuck me before patrol and i’ll be too sore to even leave the house.”

that gets a real laugh out of him; his hands settle under your ass, shifting you closer on his lap. his cock is hard under you, pressing insistently through his jeans, but he doesn’t move to unzip. but for now, he just holds you, body warm, rocking you gently till you fall asleep.

notes: my first joel writing ahhhhh

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @555aturn

[multific]

Burnt Pancakes and Bullet Wounds

Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Somewhere between the stitches and the sarcasm, something real begins to bloom.

The knock on your door came at two in the morning.

You weren’t expecting anyone.

You never were, especially not her.

But when you opened it, there she stood. Leaning against the frame, her jacket torn, blood seeping through a makeshift wrap around her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, as if this was normal. “You said I could crash here if I ever needed to.”

You blinked. “I thought you meant emotionally.”

She gave a crooked smile. “Do I look emotionally stable to you?”

Then she collapsed against you.

You managed to get her inside and on the sofa. She refused the hospital. You didn’t argue.

You learned by now that arguing with her just made her more determined.

You did the best you could to patch her up. Cleaned the wound.

Stitched it, hands trembling but steady enough.

She didn’t make a sound, just stared at you with something unreadable in her eyes.

“You done playing nurse?” she asked once you tied the last knot.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just didn’t want blood on my cushions.”

“Sure,” she muttered, smirking as she let her head fall back.

The first few days were rough.

She barely moved from the sofa, she was stubborn and snarky even in pain.

You brought her water, changed her bandages, and endured her very ungrateful commentary on your “atrocious tea-making skills.”

“You’re Russian,” you said one morning, setting down a mug with more force than necessary. “You don’t get to judge tea.”

“I’ve been in the UK for years,” she said, nose wrinkled as she sipped anyway. “This is offensive. My tastebuds are offended.”

Still, she drank it all.

By day four, she was limping around like an angry cat.

You caught her trying to make breakfast.

“Are you trying to die?” you asked, watching her burn a pancake to an impressive crisp.

She turned slowly, spatula in hand, face deadpan. “I was going for crispy edges.”

“That thing’s cremated.”

She scowled at the pan. “Fine. You cook.”

So you did.

She hovered by the counter, pointing things out with irritating confidence.

“You know,” you said, flipping an actual edible pancake, “this would be more helpful if you didn’t sound so smug about it.”

“I’m recovering. This is my version of emotional support.”

Things fell into a rhythm.

She’d complain about your cooking, and you’d remind her she couldn’t even lift a kettle at the moment. You’d bicker over what to watch, only to both end up falling asleep on the sofa halfway through some terrible crime documentary.

And in the quiet moments, those half-lit early mornings or late nights when neither of you could sleep, she’d talk.

Not much, not directly. But enough.

Little things.

Memories from before it all went wrong. Mentions of places she missed. People she didn’t.

And you listened.

You always listened.

One night, a week in, you found her in the kitchen staring into the open fridge like it held the answers to life.

“You alright?” you asked softly, rubbing your eyes.

She didn’t look at you. “I’m not good at this.”

“At what? Stealing my leftovers?”

She smiled faintly. “At staying still. At being... cared for.”

You stepped beside her, close enough to share breath. “You’re doing fine.”

���I don’t know how to relax.”

“That’s okay. I’ll remind you.”

She turned then, tired eyes searching your face. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Being soft.”

You swallowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said. “Just... don’t disappear.”

You touched her hand. “I won’t.”

The kiss wasn’t planned.

You were making tea, she was hovering too close.

Something about the way she looked at you made your heart stutter.

“I’m not good at this either,” you murmured.

“Guess we’ll figure it out,” she said.

And then she kissed you. Gentle, slow, tasting of burnt toast and something more fragile than you’d ever imagined in someone so strong like her.

She stayed.

Even after the wounds healed.

Even when she could walk without flinching, cook without help (though still terribly), and go back to her old life.

She stayed.

Not because she had to.

But because she wanted to.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[twistedpink]

honeymoon night with silver? 😋

I’m getting a better grasp on his character so I hope you like it!!

Boyfriend!Silver’s proposal was planned for years subconsciously. He’d picked your favourite spot, filled you up with your favourite sweets, and just when he had you buttered up- promptly passed out on your shoulder. After your lengthy relationship there was no more fanfare for when he fell asleep in public (your camera roll is full of him already), and he would’ve recovered after wiping the drool off, but he just gets into situations sometimes..

Silver being your best (and only) fiancé never gave him a free pass from the announcement zooms, and every friend you told was regaled with the tale of “Hubby’s glorious fumble”.. He’d been spooked awake by a passing bike :0! Dropped the ring, and saved it by diving into the pavement! His notoriously pretty face had won him a successful proposal, applause from that family in the background, and a “get well soon” kiss when you patched him up <3 God you guys are cuttteeeee,,

Fiancé!Silver doesn’t hesitate to pull his weight during wedding prep, (as anyone should) and organizes what little finances he has to very quickly after father’s “charitable donation”. He doesn’t cry during the service, but is bordering on helicopter with how attentive he is- Lilia teases that you’re the only person he’d be so careful with, and Silver tries his best to play it off, but is proven very wrong a few seconds later when he dozes off while dusting your outfit off. Is it so wrong to preserve it, when this is the best day of his life?

Husband!Silver gets down to business!!! With all the paid leave Malleus granted him (Sebek didn’t even bother with the scolding), what else is he supposed to do, but enjoy his beautiful spouse? Your honeymoon cabin is isolated enough for undisturbed lakeside “activities”, but close enough to the nearest town for emergencies. During your actual wedding night though, he gets below you and is wide awake. The two of you sleep the next day away (after going at it again, and again), you receive many letters of congratulations and smaller gifts after your “festivities” have ended, but even the texts you get seem to have been delayed by a few days,, How curious. Fae magic really does work miracles, and your father in law is expecting a much bigger family soon! (Fur babies included lol)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Two words (MAX’s THIGHS )🫠🤭

The Real Prize - Thighs || MV1

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, thigh riding. WC: ~550

Pre-Gala || The Real Prize ||Jealousy || Panties || Captivity || Rocky || Escaping || Thighs || Consequences || A Mile High

Max kicked his dress shoes off as soon as he walked in the door and tossed his suit jacket onto the coat rack. You had retired to the room earlier knowing he would be kept back late for the formalities. 

“Schatje?” he called out, quietly enough to keep from waking you if you were asleep but loud enough to announce his arrival. 

“In here, baby.” You had just finished relaxing in the bath and wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped into the bedroom to meet him. His white shirt hung open and inviting as he sat on the edge of the bed, sighing to himself after the long hours of socialising. “You look tired.”

“I am tired.” He pulled you between his legs the moment you stepped into his reach and you brushed his shirt off his shoulders. A soft groan fell from his parted lips when you massaged the tension away and the sound made you clench your thighs together. 

“Sit,” he ordered as he tugged the towels away and saw the signs of your arousal, peaked nipples begging for his mouth. 

“But you’re tired,” you murmured hesitantly. 

He shook his head and pushed his knee between your legs, forcing your stance wider as his hands guided your hips down until you were sitting on his thick thigh. “I’ll never be too tired for this.”

Slowly, he began to rock your hips and you moaned at the friction his trousers gave you at the juncture of your thighs. He wasn’t fazed in the slightest that you would likely ruin the expensive bottom half of his Amari suit when you came, he just wanted to see the look of pleasure on your face again. 

“Go on, schat, take what you need,” he encouraged. His hold loosened on your hips and you gripped his shoulders as you rode his thigh. With his hands free, there was nothing stopping them roaming your body. You gasped as he pressed a thumb to your clit and it sparked your cunt to clench as you ground yourself against him. “You’re gonna ride my thigh until you come, aren’t you, my good girl?”

“Mmm yes…” you whined as you laced your fingers in his hair, tugging his face down to your chest until he sealed his lips around your nipple. “Yes, oh god, Max.”

“That’s it, schatje, keep going, you’re doing so well.”

Your hips rode the hard length of his thigh, feeling each strap of muscle that was hidden beneath the dark fabric he wore. You rode him harder as the pressure in your abdomen grew and your head fell back with a cry of delight. “Maaxxxx…I’m, I’m…fuck!” 

Your orgasm washed over you in waves that shook your body and each twitch ignited aftershocks as the cotton teased your already stimulated nerve endings. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he praised. His large hand cradled your head to his shoulder as you sagged into his embrace to recover. 

“I ruined your trousers.”

He chuckled as you climbed off him with unsteady legs and saw your arousal thick on the material. 

“So did I.”

You looked further up his thigh and giggled as you found another damp patch. “I really did good, huh?”

“Mmm, the best,” he hummed as he fell back on the bed with a contented sigh. “Now I’m very tired.”

[bunji-enthusiast]

hello Benji , first time requesting and I wanted to ask if you could please do a peni parker from marvel rivals inspired reader in the invincible. Peni parker!reader as mark grayson superhero friend .and just anything really about her in the invincible universe.

𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍

Peni-Parker!Reader

Summary || hero friend to Invincible himself, technological genius and your this universe’s one and only spider-woman!

Note // I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that Peni is very precious to me and deserves a good life. wrote it from second person this time around.

Let’s just say "Invincible" is no longer flying solo.

Ever since [Name] joined the roster, Mark's chaotic, high-stakes, punch-first-ask-later lifestyle has gained a layer of tactical brilliance and cyberpunk finesse. Together, they balance each other out—Mark brings the raw strength, emotion, and overwhelming power of a Viltrumite, while [Name] delivers methodical strategy, defensive control, and precision takedowns with her Cyber-Web tech and SP//dr.

Mark might barrel through starships, but when he’s grounded—literally or emotionally—[Name] holds the line. She doesn’t just back him up; she orchestrates the battlefield. Her Cyber-Webs control the flow of combat, slowing enemy movement and giving Mark time to strategize or recover. And when he’s overextending himself (again), she’s right there snaring enemies mid-charge or unleashing a Bionic Spider-Nest to create a killzone.

While Mark punches holes through buildings, [Name] is crawling up the walls—vertical wall-running at 90°—flanking, sniping from odd angles, and setting up Arachno-Mines in his wake. If a fight’s about to go nuclear, she pulls him out of danger using her Cyber-Bond web-strand. Mark calls it “getting yanked by Spidey-Sis,” which she rolls her eyes at but secretly finds kind of sweet.

Mark’s powers are boosted by emotion, but they also cloud his judgment. He goes too far. Pushes too hard. [Name] doesn’t just patch up the battlefield—she patches up Mark. She sees his grief. His doubt. She’s lost a father too. So when the weight of being “Invincible” nearly breaks him, she reminds him he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

During a mission against a rogue Viltrumite using echo-frequency tech, Mark was grounded, screaming in pain. [Name] singlehandedly web-snared the enemy mid-air using a trick shot with her Cyber-Web Snare, then surrounded them with a Cyber-Web zone laced with hidden Arachno-Mines. The explosion? Minimal. The impact? Lethal.

After Mark was critically injured fighting Conquest’s backup clone, [Name] activated her SP//dr’s emergency override, placed a Bionic Spider-Nest to deter enemies, and web-slung Mark out of a collapsing space station. She didn't say a word. She just saved him. And he’s never forgotten it.

During a cross-reality incursion, they defended the Web of Life and Destiny from multiversal threats. Mark, for once, wasn’t the one calling the shots—[Name] led the charge, weaving strategies like her webs. She even inspired Mark to call her the “Webwarden.” She kind of liked that one.

What Mark thinks of [Name]:

“She’s not just smart—she’s brilliant. And tough. And scary in the best way. I’ve seen her stand toe-to-toe with things that made even me flinch. She doesn’t flinch. Not for anyone. I might be ‘Invincible’... but I’m only alive ‘cause she’s got my back.”

And yeah, Atom Eve gave her the stamp of approval too. That’s not easy to get.

From a villain's perspective?---

“If you see a cyber-web at your feet, pray it's just her. If Invincible’s flying in behind it? You’re already done.”

So yeah, with [Name] Parker by his side, Mark’s not just a powerhouse anymore—he’s a tactical nightmare for anyone dumb enough to mess with Earth, the multiverse, or the people they love.

Mission Log: "Threadline Protocol"

Date: April 11th, Earth-Time Location: Sector 019 | Interstice between Earth-616X and Webworld Prime Subjects: Agent Invincible (Mark Grayson), Cyber-Operative [Name] Parker (SP//dr Unit Alpha) Mission Objective: Prevent the unraveling of the Web of Life and Destiny due to a multiversal breach by rogue Viltrumite dissident factions allied with Angstrom Levy.

[MISSION START - AUDIO RECORDING]

MARK: (breathing hard) "Okay. I’m here. I got eyes on the breach. Or, uh... the ripping hole in reality the size of Texas. You seeing this too, [Name]?"

[NAME]: (calmly) "Confirmed. It’s a quantum destabilization spiral. Webline fibers are detaching. If it expands further, we’re talking multiversal collapse. And it’s not just a tear—it’s a trap."

MARK: "Of course it is."

[NAME]: (typing rapidly into SP//dr’s HUD) "Tracking three hostile Viltrumite signatures… wait—scratch that. Five.They’re masking their presence through Levy’s tech."

MARK: "He just had to show up again..."

[MISSION PHASE ONE: Breach Defense]

As Mark launches into the air, five Viltrumites emerge from the rift. Meanwhile, [Name] deploys from a vertical surface, crawling 90° up a fractured monolith, Cyber-Web Cluster primed.

[NAME]: "Mark—dive right! Now!"

A Cyber-Web Snare lashes through the air, catching the lead Viltrumite mid-charge. He’s immobilized instantly, crashing into a building-sized thread of Webline.

MARK: (grinning) "That never gets old."

[NAME]: (smirking through the comm) "Try not to get disemboweled this time."

MARK: "No promises!"

[MISSION PHASE TWO: Crowd Control / Nest Deployment]

As chaos erupts, [Name] drops a Bionic Spider-Nest at the rift perimeter. The glowing device anchors itself and spins a wide Cyber-Web dome. Hidden Arachno-Mines skitter out and vanish into the surface of the Web.

[NAME]: "Perimeter secured. Engage but pull hostiles into the web zone—I’ve turned the battlefield into a minefield."

Mark crashes two Viltrumites through the web line. Seconds later—click… boom. They vanish under a precision detonation.

MARK: (laughing over the comm) "You seriously scare me sometimes."

[NAME]: "Good."

[MISSION PHASE THREE: Mark Down]

A surprise ambush hits Mark from above—another Viltrumite, enhanced with Levy’s tech, drives him into the ground hard enough to crater the Webfield. He’s bleeding, coughing, barely conscious.

MARK: (strained) "Took… a hit. That one’s faster."

[NAME]: (tone shifts instantly—urgent but focused) "SP//dr—tactical override. Deploy rescue strand."

A Cyber-Bond web-line fires, latching to Mark’s armor and pulling him out of the blast radius. [Name] swings in mid-air, body spiraling like a silk thread in wind, grabbing him mid-pull.

[NAME]: "Told you: no disembowelment today."

MARK: (choking on a laugh) "I owe you… like... a thousand burgers."

[MISSION PHASE FOUR: Finale — “Threadline Protocol”]

As the rift begins destabilizing further, Angstrom Levy himself appears, surrounded by ghost-versions of Earths destroyed by alternate Marks. The Web shudders.

LEVY: "Too late. The collapse has already started. The Web of Life unravels now."

[NAME]: (voice low) "No. It won’t."

She activates the Threadline Protocol, fusing her SP//dr core with the breach’s epicenter, becoming a living conduit of cyber-web strands across realities.

[NAME]: "Mark—fly. Push the rift closed. I’ll hold the lines."

MARK: (furious) "No! You’ll be torn apart!"

[NAME]: (softly) "So were our fathers. This is our fight now."

Mark’s power surges, eyes glowing. Rage. Grief. Love. All of it. He flies harder than ever before, punching through the collapsing rift. Meanwhile, [Name] is a storm of webs, strands, code, and resolve, her SP//dr glowing like a spider-star.

[MISSION END]

Status:

Rift sealed.

SP//dr intact.

Mark sustained 2nd-degree internal trauma.

[Name] offline for 8 minutes post-merge, recovered at 93% functionality.

Final Notes (via Mark):

"She’s more than a teammate. She’s the net that keeps me from falling. You ask me what it’s like fighting beside [Name] Parker? It’s like having a second heart. One made of steel, silk, and stubborn fire. And I’d follow her into any reality."

MISSION LOG: "Web of Stars" Date: April 11th Location: Earth-919 / Outer Expanse of the Life Thread Conduit Operatives Deployed: Invincible (Mark Grayson), SP//dr Pilot [Name] Parker, Atom Eve (Samantha Eve Wilkins) Mission Directive: Investigate and contain anomalies in the Life Thread Conduit—a cosmic artery of the Web of Life and Destiny intersecting unknown galactic ley lines. Reports indicate a hostile biosynthetic consciousness consuming molecular threads from multiversal anchors.

[MISSION START - MULTI-CHANNEL RECORDING]

[NAME]: (sliding along a sheer crystal wall with that clean 90° crawl) "Looks like our weird thread-snake problem just got friends. I'm counting at least three biomatter distortions wrapped around the conduit… feeding off it."

MARK: (hovering, fists up) "Guess we’re interrupting dinner."

EVE: (descending in a swirl of pink light, calm but sharp) "Let’s make them choke."

[PHASE ONE: Coordinated Strike]

Eve extends both hands—matter around her vibrates, shimmers, and instantly reconstructs into massive crystalline pillars slamming through the feeding nodes of the anomaly. It shrieks, recoiling. Mark rushes in, his punch detonating shockwaves through the exposed neural core.

[NAME]: (drops a Cyber-Web Snare on the left flank) "Snared the neural tendril! Mark—go!"

Mark shoots past Eve, launching a meteor-blitz uppercut into the core’s heart. Eve’s constructs encase it, locking it down like a glittering cage of molecular bonds. Behind them, Arachno-Mines crawl silently across the now glowing web.

[PHASE TWO: The Hive Wakes Up]

Suddenly, the conduit pulses—and the feeding anomalies split. The three become fifteen, glitching and reforming like broken digital gods. They surge toward Eve.

EVE: (calm despite the chaos) "Yeah, no. That’s enough."

She lifts both hands—and instantly reconfigures the broken asteroid field around them into a massive energy-based ecosystem, complete with defensive flora and terrain made of restructured carbon.

[NAME]: (in awe) "Did you just build a living terrain during a fight?"

EVE: (grinning) "I multitask when I’m mad."

[PHASE THREE: SP//dr Unleashed]

As Mark tank-brawls the biggest hive-entity, [Name] deploys her Bionic Spider-Nest inside Eve’s crystallized environment. The entire battlefield becomes a maze of glowing cyber-webs and invisible mines.

MARK: (throwing a bleeding tendril into the web) "[Name], now!"

[NAME]: (from above, voice cold) "Weblock engaged."

The nest pulses. Dozens of mines detonate in chain precision, ripping apart the swarm. Glowing fibers snap together midair like fangs sealing a trap. Eve reorients all matter into a bio-lock cocoon, and Mark hurls the remaining core into the cage.

[FINAL PHASE: Web Singularity Detected]

Just as they begin to regroup, a deeper hum resonates. The anomalies weren’t attacking randomly—they were installingsomething. A dark sphere begins forming. Time dilates.

EVE: (a bit breathless) "They’re seeding a singularity into the Web’s backbone. If it ruptures, this reality will fragment."

[NAME]: (focused) "Mark, fly. Eve—back me up. I can link SP//dr to the webline. We might… rethread it. But I need you both to cover me."

SP//dr’s chest opens. The Cyber-Bond cable fires out and hits the core web—[Name] jerks as the suit lights up like a neural star.

MARK: (teeth gritted, shielding her) "You better not die, Parker."

[NAME]: (grins through the surge) "Only if you let anything touch me, Grayson."

EVE: (hovering behind them both, eyes glowing) "Try and stop me."

Eve ignites. Her powers shimmer to near godhood, her constructs fractalizing space itself—redirecting gravity, rerouting energy. Mark flies loops around them, punching anomaly cores out of the air like a cosmic wrecking ball.

SP//dr floods the webline with stabilizing pulses. Slowly, the singularity folds inward, sealed beneath layers of matter-energy coding woven by Eve and solidified by [Name]’s cyber-architecture.

[MISSION END - DEBRIEF]

Status:

Conduit sealed

Singular anomaly terminated

Mark exhausted, hair singed

Eve elevated energy saturation; temporary power cooldown initiated

[Name] stable; SP//dr at 87% system load

POST-MISSION VOICE CLIP — Mark Grayson

"How did I get so lucky? Two of the smartest, strongest, most badass women in the multiverse watching my back? I don’t know. But I’m not letting either of them go. Not now. Not ever."

It was a rare moment of peace, the kind that didn’t come often for people who routinely saved cities—or timelines. The backyard of the Grayson house had become a makeshift recovery zone, with Mark flipping pancakes on a griddle that clearly wasn’t cooperating, and [Name] reclining upside-down in a lawn chair like gravity was optional. Eve hovered lazily a few inches above the grass, sipping coffee, looking as serene as ever—until the topic of conversation took a sharp turn.

“I still can’t believe you, Eve,” [Name] said, tapping her smoothie with a straw like it owed her answers. “You, of all people, Ms. Rewrite-Reality-With-Your-Brain, prefer fantasy over sci-fi?”

Eve raised an eyebrow without breaking her meditation float. “Because dragons have soul, [Name]. They have personality. You can bond with a griffin. Try having a heart-to-heart with a neural interface.”

[Name] gasped dramatically. “You take that back. Sci-fi has stakes, consequences. You build a giant spider mech and earn your victories. Fantasy just... chants gibberish and wins.”

Mark, hunched over a plate of increasingly burnt pancakes, muttered, “Still better than these pancakes obeying the laws of physics.”

“Fantasy is hope,” Eve said, now gently lowering herself to the grass to retrieve a fork. “It’s about becoming more than what you are. It defies logic on purpose.”

“Sci-fi is imagination with a brain,” [Name] countered. “It says, ‘what if?’ and actually answers it. The multiverse is real, I have a psychic bond with a radioactive spider, and you're telling me elves are cooler than that?”

Eve took a slow sip of her coffee, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “Your giant spider mech couldn’t even get us out of that web singularity without my ‘fantasy nonsense,’ remember?”

“That was a team effort, and my emotional support stat carried us,” [Name] said, sticking her tongue out.

Mark finally sat down between them, his plate full of charcoal-scented regret. “Can’t we all just agree the best genre is one where both of you exist and somehow still talk to me?”

They both turned to him in unison.

“No,” they said flatly.

Silence fell for a moment. Then a gentle chirp came from the SP//dr parked nearby, the cockpit lights flashing as it projected a small holographic speech bubble:

“QUERY: Why not cybernetic dragons with neural-linked magic cores?”

Eve squinted. “Okay... that’s actually pretty cool.”

[Name] smirked, sipping her smoothie like it was a victory toast. “That’s called science fantasy, and guess what side that leans toward.”

Eve rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she nudged Mark’s plate. “You really gonna eat that?”

“...I tried my best.”

[Name] gave a sympathetic pat to his shoulder. “At least in fantasy, the food magically turns out edible.”

Later that afternoon, Mark sat cross-legged on the garage floor, surrounded by scattered tools, half-disassembled power cables, and the ever-present aroma of engine grease and strawberry smoothie. SP//dr stood idle in the corner, its eight sleek legs tucked neatly beneath it like some industrial-grade arachnid in meditation mode. Its single eye pulsed softly with cyan light. [Name] was half inside a maintenance hatch, her legs kicking lazily behind her while synth-pop music played faintly from a speaker that may or may not have been jury-rigged to a toaster.

Mark squinted at SP//dr. “Okay, so I’ve got to ask—how exactly do you two talk?”

A quiet whrrp came from SP//dr. A small digital heart emoji appeared on its outer display. [Name] snorted from inside the hatch.

“We just do,” she said, voice echoing slightly as she reconnected a few neural relays. “It’s a psychic link. Thought-based. Emotion-coded. Intuition-forward. Kinda like... feeling in full sentences.”

“That means nothing,” Mark said, genuinely confused but trying not to sound defeated. “Is it like... telepathy?”

“No,” [Name] said, sliding out on her back and blinking up at the ceiling like it owed her rent. “Telepathy’s like listening to someone in your brain. This is more like... feeling what they’d say before they do. It’s real-time understanding. Like an instinct you trust.”

SP//dr emitted a soft hum of agreement, its eye blinking twice in a way that [Name] immediately interpreted as “Yep, he’s lost.”

Mark stared. “So, what, you’re telling me you can look at that thing”—he gestured vaguely toward the glowing mech—���and know when it’s mad at you?”

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation, now wiping grease off her hands with the leg of her suit. “And it gets verymoody when I ignore its diagnostics for too long. You ever been guilt-tripped by a spider mech? It’s brutal.”

SP//dr rotated slightly and projected a tiny hologram of a sad face with big sparkly eyes and the words:

“❤️CHECK MY COOLANT LEVELS, I AM DYING INSIDE❤️”

“Oh my god,” Mark said, slowly turning back to [Name]. “You trained it to be dramatic.”

“I didn’t train it. It inherited that,” she said, smirking and patting the side of SP//dr’s chassis affectionately. “My dad coded the emotional response matrix before I even bonded with it. SP//dr’s always been... expressive.”

“And this is what counts as normal for you two?”

“Normal’s a sliding scale. You should see what SP//dr thinks of your sense of fashion.”

SP//dr chirped again, this time projecting a low-res animation of Mark’s yellow-and-blue hero suit, now with added glitter, an oversized bowtie, and a cape that said “STYLE ICON.”

Mark groaned. “I saved the galaxy in that.”

“Exactly,” [Name] said. “You peaked.”

Mark leaned back on his hands, watching the banter bounce between girl and machine like it was the most natural thing in the world. He still didn’t get how it worked—how two beings so completely different could move in perfect sync. But he figured that’s what made them a great team. They didn’t need words. Just trust, instinct, and a little sarcastic flair.

“Okay,” he said at last, “but if SP//dr ever starts talking in my head, I’m moving to Mars.”

SP//dr slowly rotated to face him. A digital graphic of a rocket taking off appeared.

“🚀Bags packed.”

[strialternatives]

You mentioned in the tags of I think your comic of Akira and Akechi traveling that Akechi is first-aid certified in multiple countries. Does this mean something to any headcanon’s you have about what his adult life would be like? I love your palace au and i’m really interested in how he recovers afterwards!!

If it was just a joke then you don’t have to answer :)

that actually wasn't a joke! :D it started off as a "taking care of akira" investment that got outta hand ya see-

some background first! in my head shuake wind up traveling after Akechi's physical therapy and Akira takes an "extended leave" from uni then just. never goes back.

they travel China, then Thailand--near all the countries in east asia. at first, its about putting some distance between themselves and tokyo and all that metaverse ptsd baggage no one wants to acknowledge or talk about-

not that they don't have talks. they talk a lot, they have a lot of hard talks in hotel rooms, during quiet moments, about everything and nothing at all. akira is devastated to learn that his future husband is a dog person.

then, literally as they're about to book the plane back to tokyo, after months and months of travels and late night talks--akira offhandedly, mentions that he's always wanted to visit paris.

there's no reason for them not to. akira has an absurd amount of metaverse money, akechi has the key to a good chunk of shido's offshore assets. akira picks up languages quickly thanks to his personas and so does akechi.

and it kinda spirals from there. after that they only drop by tokyo for holidays and planned thief get-togethers.

akira's the type of wild card that picks up confidants everywhere he goes, he likes to help the people he connects with, and sometimes that comes with dangerous situations and hospital visits.

(the two of them are nosy, reckless and don't know how to mind their own business to save their lives. and akira is so kind to others and willing to help and his and akechi loves and hates him for it so, sooo much.)

at first akechi learns how to patch (his) idiot up for his own peace of mind, its manageable, he's used to patching up real world wounds. his initial mementos explorations were full of trial and error, after all.

--then there's this awful business with the russian mob that akira's gotten involved with during that part-time bodyguard gig protecting some small time lawyer's child during a court case and, well. he's two years in, somewhere between learning how to suture a stab wound from an underground doctor and looking up tameki-san again,

akechi realizes he's in this for the long haul. that he has to--unfortunately--lock in.

and he's GOOD at it, akechi likes being good at things.

he's not planning on being a doctor or anything, can't stay in one place long enough for a degree. but, picking up certifications still scratches an itch he wasn't aware he had. to heal instead of hurt--it helps that it starts with akira.

anyway, sometimes when he's bored and they're in one place for more than two weeks he'll go hit up foreign clinics who need a temp helper.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I've wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we're all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however... I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The shanks of brown hair rests between your fingers as you angle the shears. The snips is precise and careful. You work diligently, wordlessly, as the duke stares at his reflection. He’s lost in thought as you are cautious of his mindless tilts and tweaks. 

“It is looking rather better since Kennick’s butchering,” he muses. “I feared I might sport a monk’s pate anon.” 

“Your grace,” your keep your focus set, not looking up as you snip away another length of hair. 

“Not much shorter than that. Winter will be here soon enough,” Lord Rogers girds. “What of the beard? Shall I keep it for warmth as well?” 

“Your grace,” the reply rises again, a different lilt to it which says, it is upon your prerogative. 

“Hm, many other lords I’ve seen as late sport the like. As our king does,” he continues on. “Is it very common of me to do the same?” 

You draw a lock away from his face and stretch it above his forehead. Your voice does not rise as you bite the tip of your tongue with great concentration. You think of Kennick and the lashes on his palms. He is only a young boy; how could he be asked to do such a delicate task? 

A knock rattles the door. The lord’s eyes flash in his reflection as you peek at the mirror. There isn’t alarm, only attention. He flicks his fingers. 

“Please, pip, see to it,” he commands. 

You lay down the shears and leave him. You go to the door and draw it open. It pushes from the other side and you stumble back behind it. You nearly fold completely as you recognise the bearing of the broad shoulders. It is hardly a surprise for the king to appear, only that you forgot yourself in the calm of the previous moment. 

You keep your knees bent and head down as King Bucky strides towards the duke at his looking glass. You gently close the door as the liege receives barely a glance from the man at ease on his cushioned chair. He huffs and tugs his ear. 

“Is that how you receive your king?” King Bucky taunts as Rogers swats away his hand. 

“I wouldn’t want to make a mess,” the duke retorts and gestures again, “pip, it is still uneven.” 

You set your chin and return to the vanity table. You pick up the shears and nod your head, “your highness.” 

The king does not answer and he leans on the other corner of the table. He crosses his arms, the deep blue leather of his jacket straining. The duke tufts his chin again, paying heed to the patch of silver there. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your recent bout of baldness,” the king mocks. “Your head is much too lumpy for it.” 

“Have you come only to jeer me?” Rogers asks dully. 

You measure another shank and trim carefully. Often, you’ve done similar for your fellow servants. Usually with duller blades or a razor to the scalp. The duke usually only requires a tray or a flagon of you. The request was unexpected but undeniable. 

“Forgive me for disturbing you and your barber. I’ve a fine man from Rivard who sees to my own. A gold coin would’ve brought him to your stead,” the king suggests. 

“A waste of good coin,” Rogers sniffs. “Looking at you, I’d never assume any barber saw to that nest.” 

The king takes affront and smooths his dark tresses, a subtle wave near the bottom of his strands as they frame his chin. “Eh, you speak treasonous words. To insult a king’s hair is next to blasphemy, duke.” 

“Shall I take the cattails in hand?” Rogers counters. 

King Bucky chortles, “if I didn’t fear you’d aim them at my hide, I’d agree to it.” 

You peek up at the noise of his laughter. You’ve not heard it often from the king, not that you are often in his presence. He seems of a bright disposition that day. Even so, you flinch as your eyes snag on his. You quickly put your mind to the shears.  

“Mm, and what has brought on your good mood?” 

“Why shouldn’t I be in fine spirits?” 

“I ask why you should,” Rogers, turns his head and you recoil. A dusting of hair falls from the towel around his shoulders. 

“I should ask why you seem rather the opposite,” the king mutters. 

“I am not... unhappy. Pensive,” Rogers admits. “You’ve heard from Stark.” 

“Aye, whoever doesn’t hear him when he opens his mouth?” 

“Hm, I would think a rasher response of you,” Rogers intones as he turns to the mirror again and you comb your fingers from his hairline to his crown to compare. The king shifts as you sense his observation of your reflection. 

“Isn’t it what he intends? What good is it to feed his pride? If he should like to put on this display, then he shall make himself a fool. I’ll be all the more pleased for it to be at my hand.” 

“You don’t think it is some ploy?” 

“Of course it is? A tournament of kings? For what purpose but to put to mind the matter of war? To suggest that should we not play nice, a horse and shield might be appropriate.” 

You shift around to the back of the duke’s head, the king leans in. His movement draws your gaze and you find him watching your hands. It makes them more prudent. 

“I would not speak it into this plain, but do you not worry for his machinations? At any tourney, there are those who might take a deathly blow, or slip beneath their steed’s hooves--” 

“When did you grow so cautious? I can lift a sword and sit a horse--” 

“Should either be sabotaged? Should your plate be poisoned at the feast--” 

“Is there something you are aware of that I should be?” The king challenges. 

“Only that he is his father’s heir, in many ways,” Rogers harrumphs. 

“You think I should fear a dagger up a sleeve when you’ve a servant with two so near your eye?” 

You pause and the duke tuts, “keep on, pip,” Rogers orders as he waves off the king’s devious suggestion. 

“Ah, gentle hands, I see, forgive the poor humour,” he unfolds his arms and grips the edge of the table as he leans. “Rogers, you will be close. Vigilant as ever.” 

The duke sighs, “the winter nears.” 

“Is that it? You never liked the cold, I should’ve guessed it.” 

“I can bear the cold, but travel would be arduous.” 

“You would wait for the spring?” 

“Perhaps,” the duke slides a ring to the tip of his finger and spins it. “And Thor? Has he sent his agreement to this Field of Silk?” 

“I was to ask you the same. I presumed with how you get on, he might prefer you as his messenger,” the king says. “Very well, I will think on your concern.” He clucks and stands, moving closer as he watches you with intent. “I am surprised, I thought you would be most eager for a tournament. You were the Knight of the Lilies for years anon.” 

“A time ago,” Rogers rebuffs. 

“And time is still left,” King Bucky reaches again to tweak his ear, “I know they are rather big, but try not to snip them off, eh?” He japes as Rogers tilts away from his touch with a growl. “I shall leave you to your grooming, though perhaps next time you should just call the stabler.”  

The king strides away as the duke pushes his ring to his knuckle. The shears continue to snip noisily in the silence. The door announces the king’s departure with a sonorous echo. 

“My luggage will need prepared,” Rogers resigns. 

[poetsblvd]

SKINCARE BABE ꪆৎ CL16

“How do you not get confused at all?” Charles mumbles in awe of your skincare collection, staring at the jars and tubes of different sizes that sit prettily in organised containers on the large vanity of your bathroom.

You shrug, pulling him lightly by his knuckles towards a seat facing your bathroom mirror. “You get used to it, now sit!”

He smiles softly taking a seat on the cushioned stool next to yours, nodding as you pull out an array of different types of face masks to try with him.

“I have so many fun ones we can do! There’s this clay mask, this gel one, that’s a sheet mask, and then this one peels off.” A delicately manicured finger pulls out the containers and thin boxes from cabinets and lays them down in front of him.

He doesn’t quite know what you’re saying at all, the words mostly fly over his head and he doesn’t understand much of what you’re saying, except that maybe the world has far too many face masks to choose from, but he knows he can listen to you prattle on for hours on end about sheet masks, gel under eye patches, everything really, and never tire.

You hum in concentration, still looking through drawers for anything you may be missing to show him, completely unaware of your boyfriends’ attention being solely on you rather than your skincare.

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He murmurs smiling up at you.

Your hands pause in their movements, a pretty flush creeping up your cheeks and down your neck, only endearing you more to him.

His hands come to rub at his chest unconsciously still staring at you in awe, a soft gooey feeling coating him turning his eyes into hearts and making his brain go almost numb.

‘’Tellement jolie.” He smiles, large hands carefully sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to stand in front of him, chin resting on the pretty pink silk robe that coats your body. ( so pretty )

“Mon belle amour, comment ai-je eu autant de chance?” He wonders, laughing softly when your hands bashfully come up to cover your face, french glossy nails shining in the light. ( my beautiful love, how did i get so lucky? )

“Charlie!” You whine, dragging out his name in exasperation mumbling a shy I love you, that’s incredibly well received if his ear splitting grin and giggle are anything to go by.

He tugs you onto his lap, making sure you’re comfortable, hands still woven tightly around your waist, his head in the crook of your neck, he smears a soft kiss on your shoulders and nudges you to the face masks again.

“Tell me what face mask you like the most mon beau.” You pull out a small glass pot labeled ‘volcanic clay mask’ and he fights all his inner questions down when you start rattling off its benefits of how it minimises pores and helps target fine lines?

“Okay amour, will you put it on for me?” He smiles cheesily, pushing his face forward and turning you around in his hold.

“We have to push your hair back first love.” You pull out a brand new headband from the drawer next to you and present it to him, grinning at his loud bark of laughter at the lightning mcqueen skincare headband in front of of him.

“Oh my God!”

“You like it?” You question, happiness bubbling inside you.

Nodding eagerly he lets you slip it onto his head and push back his hair “Love it! Love you, so much, Je t’aime mon coeur.”

“Je t’aime aussi Cha.”

“Wow, I am going to be the coolest in the paddock, Lightning mcqueen headband? Max is going to be so jealous.”

love note , hi i hope you guys liked this!! i’m not the most pleased with this but i had the teeniest crumb of inspo to write and it’s 4:20 am (again) so please bear with me!! but i found the idea cute and i was struggling to put it into words, but it is what it is! also i have a bunch of reqs in my inbox that i promos i’ll get to, but i’m recovering from the most disgusting flu and have the most awful writers block, so we’ll go slow and steady!! anyways happy reading mwah xx

[gemstone-roses]

Please

Cooper Howard x fem reader

Summary: smut, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, choking , I know, I know, radiation poisoning? Hush, this is FICTION. Your on my blog and you’re surprised at this? No you’re not. minors be gone from here thankyou. 18+ only. It’s basically just smut. Mentions of a minor shoulder injury. No plot just smut. No spoilers.

Note: Not much background, I started this before I had surgery and wanted to get it posted, I watched most of this show whilst recovering from surgery and, off my tits on pain meds. I’m gonna preface this with it’s definitely not my best work, but when I feel bad I write, so please be kind as always 🥹Anyway. Enjoy. 🫡. Likes comments and reblogs much appreciated. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

I am in Spain without the s.

You’re not friends. You tolerate each other. That’s it. He pushes your buttons and you irritate him just by being in his presence. Anyone looking from the outside would think the two of you were sworn enemies, that’s not right though. He always comes back for you. He insisted on doing this bounty alone, you insisted on going with him.

Now your clutching your shoulder trying to pretend your not in pain and he is seething.

you lean against the rotted wood in the decaying structure you’ve holed up in for the night. It crumbles behind you and you huff.

“I told you to stay behind on this one” he thumbs the rim of his hat, sighing as he takes in the state of you.

“yeah well, I’m fine”. You whisper, not wanting to look at him.

“Y’ not fine! Look at ya” he steps in front of you, encasing you.

“I’m okay, it’s just a little bruise” you say defiantly, looking to meet his gaze.

“ya coulda’ died sweetheart” his voice cracks slightly as he speaks, scarred hands hovering over the thin material of your t shirt, he presses his hand gently into your shoulder, rubbing his thumb across the skin.

Your breath hitches at the contact.

“don’t feel dislocated” he mutters, his fingers still gently probing your shoulder.

“Mm, told you I was fine” you say. His head snaps to yours, his hand gripping your jaw, he tilts his head down slightly, snarling.

“You ain’t half got a mouth on you sweetheart” he tuts, thumb swiping over your cracked lips.

His eyes meet yours again and you can see the internal debate he’s having in his head.

“There’s plenty more I can do with my mouth” you whisper. And that’s it, that does it for him, he brings your face closer to his and kisses you. His other arm pulls you into him, his erection pressing against you making your core throb. He’s got an iron grip on your jaw but the kiss is gentle, slow, testing. You open your mouth, inviting him to go further, his hand around your waist traces the curve of your ass as he kisses you, you moan into his mouth and he grips onto you tighter.

“Please” you breathe , your body flooding with need at his teasing touches.

“What honey?” He smirks, breaking the kiss as his hand travels up your waist. he slips his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare side slowly.

“Touch me” you choke out, failing to keep the desperation from your voice.

“Oh, I am touching you honey” his voice tinged with amusement. He waits, keeps caressing your side, never venturing further, he keeps your gaze, watching as his every movement has you silently pleading for more. Your lips parted slightly, chest heaving. He smirks, he can play the long game if needed, he wants to see how long you’ll wait before begging.

“Just this lil touch is driving you crazy huh” he mutters, splaying his hand across your stomach, hovering just above where you needed him most. You grit your teeth, raising your brows, and he tilts his head, a lazy smile across his face.

“You need me to touch you here?” His fingers press delicately over your underwear.

You nod, and whimper.

“I can’t hear you” he drawls, tapping his fingers lightly over your core, over the wet patch that’s formed.

you lean into him, head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, fuck, please” you beg, and he your underwear to the side and presses a finger into you. He curls it instantly, making your legs buckle slightly. His free arm wraps around you tight, pulling you into him as he pushes his finger in and out of you.

“Mm, you’re very wet honey, this all for me?” he teases , pushing another finger into you, and your pussy throbs at his words. He smiles, speeding up his movements while whispering praise into your ear. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, your orgasm building.

“Shit- m gonna” - you pant, and he stops. You whine at the emptiness, frown at him before he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Mm” he groans. “As much as I’d love for you to come all over my fingers, I’d rather you came wrapped around my cock sweetheart”. You clench your legs together hoping for some relief.

“Lie down for me honey”. He instructs. You do, the wood beneath you creaks slightly, he takes off his jacket and tucks it behind your head. He hooks his fingers in the waist of your pants before pulling them down, slowly, he’s savouring this.

When he’s removed them he stands back, admires you.

“Well shit, your stunnin’” he sighs as he undoes his belt. You try and roll over to cover up, shy all of a sudden. “No no honey none of that” he tuts. Reaching for your neck he wraps his hand around it and squeezes slightly. He studies your face as your eyes blow wide, and he smirks. He removes his hand far too quickly for your liking though.

You watch, enthralled as he takes out his thick cock before kneeling in-between your legs. He taps the tip of his cock on your puffy clit a few times, making you jolt.

He chuckles. “Sorry honey, I like seeing ya writhe for me”. He leans in, steadying himself with one arm on the floor beside your head. The other wraps around his cock as he lines up with your hole. You tense as he begins pushing his cock into you.

“Deep breath sweetheart” he soothes, you relax slightly as you do and he buries his cock all the way inside you.

“Oh fuck” you choke, he’s not even moved yet and already pleasure is coursing through every inch of you.

He groans as he starts thrusting. His hand coming to cup your face, he runs a calloused thumb across your jaw as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

“That feel good sweetheart?” He pants, leaning in to nip at your ear. You respond with a moan, unable to form a proper word.

“Cooper” you whine, wrapping your arms around him, the rough of his skin adding to the pleasure he was making you feel. His cock twitches at the use of his name.

“Your squeezing my cock so damn good” he breathes, angling his hips so he hits deeper.

“mm fuck that - there- , don’t stop” you cry, the coil in your stomach building.

“Yeah? You gonna come honey?” He taunts, his mouth twitching, pleased.

“look at me” he growls, he holds your face as he stares into you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he thrusts his cock in and out of your dripping pussy.

“Keep, your eyes, on me” each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. Your eyes roll back as tears prick the corner of your eyes, you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm starts to wash over you.

He leans into you again, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers into your ear.

“Scream for me” he snarls, his hand snaking around your throat as he pushes into you harder, and squeezes the side of your throat just right as your pussy tightens around him, he chokes out a moan and spills inside you as you convulse around him.

You stay like that for what feels like hours. Him still inside you, his head lay on your chest as your fingers dance up and down his back comfortable silence broken every now and then of him whispering sweet words to you.

[buckyalpine]

I adore all of your stories and turn to them at night when my brain won’t stop running. I have kind of a weird request. How would Bucky react to his girl temporarily losing her memory? (I once lost mine for two weeks due to a bad reaction to a medicine, so this pops in my mind from time to time.) The reader doesn’t remember who he is, but still feels safest when she’s with him. I’m sure he’d be the absolute sweetest. And since he’d know what it was like, he’d probably know what’s helpful and what makes things worse. When she eventually recovers, she remembers all he did for her and falls even more in love 🥰 Maybe some spicy thank yous?

Sorry if it’s too specific or out of your comfort zone! Feel free to change anything (I did base it a bit on what happened to me, but I’m sure it’d be different for everyone). Thanks!!

YESS THIS IS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND ADORABLE

"I need back up on the east wing!" Steve's voice crackled through the coms, his breathing labored as he tossed off another hydra operative against the wall, "A-agent down!"

You were passed out on the floor, dust and rubble surrounding you after exhausting yourself, 3 stab wounds were bleeding profusely from your abdomen along with other cuts and bruises littering your skin. Your head throbbed in pain from where you'd been hit and with each passing second it became harder for you to stay awake. You'd tried your best to keep your eyes open with Steve's pleading but it was too much; the pain started to dull and the world went black.

-

"It's a strong medication and she might be out for a little longer but she's going to be okay. We just have to keep monitoring her" Dr. Cho's voice spoke softly just outside of the room where you still laid unconscious. After getting patched up and scanned for damages, you were dosed with anything and everything to keep you rested and to help with pain. You had visitors day in and day out to check on you but the one that never left your bedside was your sweet boyfriend.

"Baby please wake up" Bucky softly pleaded as he ran his fingers gently across your face, not wanting to disturb you but also unable to keep his hands to himself. Not when he just wanted to see you open your eyes again, hating the fact that he hadn't heard your voice in two weeks.

Two weeks.

That's how long you'd been out for.

He was patient, not wanting to rush your healing time but he missed you so much. He continued his soft ministrations, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and peppering kisses across your cheeks. He noticed the slight flutter of your lashes, sitting up immediately when your heart monitor picked up.

"Sweetheart?" He kept his voice low, paging for a nurse to come check on you while holding your hand, his heart racing when you finally opened your eyes. "Oh baby"

You blinked at the fluorescent lights of the room, looking at the sterile environment surrounding you. Bucky stroked your hand, hoping to ease away how disoriented you were probably feeling, giving you a soft smile when you finally met his eyes.

"How are you doll?"

"Um-I'm fine?" You stared at the handsome stranger that was by your bedside, his beautiful blue eyes swirling with emotion as he continued to clutch onto your hand.

"I was so worried y/n"

"Who-I'm really sorry, who are you?"

Bucky's eyes widened with horror, quickly recomposing himself seeing your confused expression. He dropped your hand, immediately adding space between you both, offering you comforting smile before heading out of the door.

"Let me get the doctor" He didn't want to worry you, keeping a steady voice as he spoke before speeding down the corridor as soon as he was out of sight. He wasted no time informing the others about what had just happened, the team all patiently waiting outside of your room while the doctor checked on you.

"Will she be okay?" the words came tumbling out of Bucky as soon as Dr. Cho finished running a few tests, shutting the door behind her, letting you rest. He'd been pacing up and down the hall like a changed animal the entire time, only stopping when he heard Dr. Cho gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Her memory will come back eventually but until then it's important things are calm for her. Between the hits she took and the medication, she doesn't remember much from the last 2 years. You have to remember, throwing too much information at her will set her back so do your best to keep things the way she'd understand"

It wasn't going to be easy. There was no time line for when your memory would return and you had just joined the team two years ago. You didn't remember anyone, having no recollections of all the memories you'd built with them, nor remembering any of the friendships you had. As soon as you were discharged, you took the first day to rest in your room, not knowing that Nat had cleaned out all memories of Bucky so you wouldn't feel more confused.

After sleeping for most of the day, a man knocked on your door and introduced himself as Tony Stark, the very Iron Man. You couldn't recall too much but the name rang a bell; you knew he was the main person for you to go to if you needed anything. His first task was to take you around the compound, introducing you to various members of the team.

You met Nat and Clint training together in the gym. Sam had been tinkering with something called Red Wing. Steve had welcomed you with a warm hug and Bruce had been working away in the lab. Tony continued his tour, walking you through the kitchen when your eyes landed on a familiar face from before.

"And whose that" You felt your face heat up as you pointed over to the handsome man that has been by your bed earlier in the day, still feeling his soft touch on your skin.

"That's Bucky, or Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes" Tony stated, smiling at the way your eyes lingered on the soldier for longer than necessary. "Here, let's go say hi"

Tony sauntered over to where Bucky was nursing a cup of coffee, the bags under his eyes growing from a lack of sleep but that didn't stop him from throwing you a bashful smile when Tony introduced brought you to him.

"Barnes, this is y/n, she's joining our team soon"

"Nice to meet you doll" Bucky shook your hand with the utmost care, the pet name he had just for you rolling off his tongue with ease. "Let me know if you need anything"

You felt butterflies at the smirk the soldier threw your way before making his way over to the gym, the blue eyes twinkling with something you couldn't quite place. The rest of the day went by smoothly and later that night you accepted the teams invitation to join them for dinner and then later a movie night.

You were aware that you'd sustained an injury which was affecting your memory; what you still didn't know was how much of your memory was missing. You felt nervous as you made you way to the dining table, everyone sitting in their designated spot, chatting away while passing dishes to each other.

Before you could quietly retreat to your room, you locked eyes with those familiar baby blues, a smile growing on his face. Bucky got up from his seat, noting how anxious you looked, understanding seeing everyone together would be overwhelming when you didn't remember any of them. He knew exactly how that felt and there was no way he was going to let you ever feel even an ounce of that.

"I hope you're hungry, doll" Bucky spoke to you softly, not bringing attention to where you'd backed up against the wall in hopes of not being noticed.

"A little" You lied, the rumble of your stomach giving away that you were starving.

"Would-would you like to join me out in the garden? I'll bring some food out for you" Bucky offered, hoping you'd feel less overwhelmed with a bit of space.

"Yes please, thank you Bucky" You shyly smiled as he stepped away to get you some food, taking both of your plates outside to eat under the soft glow of the moon. You appreciated that he didn't bombard you with questions; the both of you eating in comfortable silence until it was time for the movie. All the anxiety you'd anticipated feeling disappeared into thin air when Bucky made some space for you to sit beside him. He picked a section of the room where you'd be able to sneak off undetected if you wanted to leave early.

There was something about the Sergeant that made you feel safe. You felt loved by everyone but with Bucky it was just different. You felt safe around him. You trusted him. You didn't know him all that well and yet whenever he was around, you knew you didn't have to worry.

There were days where your anxiety would be at an all time high, worried about why you were getting vivid flashes of random memories and terrible headaches that made you nauseous. In those moments where you felt so lost, so out of control over your own thoughts, Bucky would ground you, just being around him making you feel better.

You couldn't understand why you felt so safe around a man you barely knew but you found yourself seeking him out more and more, desperate for more of his kind words, gentle touches and soothing voice.

He really was the sweetest.

-

It killed Bucky. His heart was hurting. He was a stranger to you and it shattered him, wishing he could kiss and cuddle you every night and tell you he was so glad you were okay, that a part of him nearly died when you didn't wake up. Everyday he had to bid you good night with nothing more than a smile, so badly wanting to hold you tight in his arms instead.

None of that mattered right now.

Not when you needed him the most even if you didn't know it.

He was going to do whatever it took to get you better, taking care of you every step of the way in the best way you needed until you remembered. He could tell by the way you giggled, by the way you smiled, that even if you didn't remember everything, there was always something between you both.

He'd never give up on you no matter how long it took.

-

"Shit" You hissed, dropping the mug of tea you were sipping on, the cup shattering on the floor with a crash. Searing pain felt like it was splitting your head into to, your hands clutching onto your throbbing temples, squeezing your eyes shut, the headaches you'd been getting happening more frequently.

You'd cut back on the medication you were taking, which had actually helped with regaining some of your memory but it also meant you'd go through bouts of pain without anything to help it. Flashes of a mission gone wrong streamed through you memory between fiery throbbing, even the soft day light overwhelming your sense.

"B-Bucky!!" You cried out, your knees buckling as you slumped onto the floor, blinking back tears as another wave of pain passed. You didn't need anything else but you needed your Bucky, the only person you felt felt safe with, the person you'd loved for all these years, the man who was by your bedside for days on end after you didn't wake up-

"Doll? Fuck, y/n, whats wrong sweets" Bucky found you curled up in a ball on the cool kitchen tile, sweeping you up into his arms and holding your head against his chest, his arms covering your face from the light, while his cool metal arm was pressed firmly against your forehead to ease the pain. "M'here y/n, you're okay, you're okay"

He rocked you, not moving from the floor while whispering in your ear, hoping the pain would pass quickly.

"Jamie, it hurts" You whimpered, clutching onto his Henley, the scent of his body wash calming you down. Bucky froze, not saying a word, his heart hammering against his chest at what you'd just called him.

Could that mean-

"Do-do you want to go lie down sweets?" Bucky spoke carefully, feeling you nod, still staying tucked against him. He carried you up to your room, only to have you shake your head as best as you could, wanting to go to his room instead.

"Just want to sleep for a bit baby, please?" you pleaded with him, hardly realizing the tears that were now streaming down his face as he made his way down to his room instead. He was your Jamie, your baby, you were finally coming back to him. Bucky pulled back the covers, setting you down carefully before climbing in with you when you tugged his wrist. Your eyes were still closed, the throbbing in your head slowly dissipating though not gone entirely as you snuggled against his chest, letting out a content sigh.

"Bucky?"

"Yes doll"

"I remember"

-

Bucky stirred awake to the sound of a whimper, his brows knitting together into a frown when he felt your body tremble in his hold.

"What is it baby?" Bucky's deep sleep laced voice carried through the darkness as he pulled you closer, soothing your sniffles. "Why are you crying darling, c'mere"

"Y-you didn't give up on me" Your emotions got the best of you, remembering everything from the moment everything went dark, to the panicked voices around you to the way Bucky had stayed by your side through it all, nursing you back to health while his own heart was hurting.

"Never doll, I'd never give up on you" Bucky said sincerely, kissing your forehead while stroking your hair, "How could I when I love you to much"

"But I-I didn't remember you-you still love me?" you whispered, feeling guilty that it had taken you so long to regain you memories and feeling more guilty that you couldn't remember Bucky for so long.

"Y/n, angel, I'd love you no matter what, do you have any idea how badly I wanted to tell you that for these past few weeks? That's all I wanted to do baby, just hold you and tell you how much I adore you-

You couldn't put into words how much love you had for him in that moment, cutting him off with your lips pressed onto his. The kiss grew more needy, hands desperately grabbing each other; you needed Bucky to know just how much you loved him too, feel every bit of what you couldn't say with words.

"Baby, let me- Bucky was ready to take care of you but that wasn't what the night was about. Not after all he'd done for you.

"No" You shook your head, gently pushing Bucky to lay on his back, straddling yourself on top of him, "Let me take care of you for taking care of me" you murmured against his lips before pressing them against his heated skin, tracing your tongue along the column of his neck. "Please Jamie, let me show you"

"D-doll-I-I can-

"Just let me Sergeant, please" You shimmed out of your oversized t-shirt before slipping your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, puling them down, leaving him perfectly bare under you. Bucky wasn't typically a shy person but the way you gazed at him with such love made him blush, his thighs tensing when you settling yourself between them.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-oh-f-fuckkk" His words melted into a deep moan, feeling your lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock, your tongue probing his slit, lapping up every bit of precum that dripped out.

You worshipped his cock with your mouth and tongue, making him feel pleasure like never before, your hand softly rubbing and rolling his balls. You pulled off with a pop just to dip your head lower, nursing on his heavy sack, the slutty, needy moans he was letting out growing louder.

"B-Baby, g'nna cum if you don't stop" His thighs spread apart further for you, back nearly arching off the bed as you licked a thick stripe from his balls to the tip of his cock, crawling back up his body to line your soaking cunt up with his length.

"Please y/n" Bucky blinked at you with glassy, lustful eyes, rutting his hips up to feel more of you, his hands flying to your thighs, needing to touch you.

"Anything for you baby" you cooed, gasping at the feeling of his tip catching against your hole, throwing your head back as you began to sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning together at the feeling of him stretching you open.

You began to grind your hips down on him, your clit rubbing against the curly hair at the base of his cock before slowly picking you pace up, your hands resting on his chest for leverage.

"Feel's so good princess" Bucky's eyes rolled back as you started to bounce up and down, practically squealing each time you slammed yourself back down, obscene squelching noises filling the room.

"You deserve it sergeant" you whimpered, letting Bucky's hands roam your body, grabbing and pinching your nipples, your tight cunt squeezing his cock.

"C'mere baby, c'mere please" Bucky pleaded, pulling you down to his chest and wrapping his arms around you, planting his feet against the bed so he could fuck up into you, "Fuck that's it, mark me up!"

Bucky could feel you nip and suck on his neck hard enough to leave bruises, your words starting to slur as you both got closer and closer to your highs.

"F-fuck I love you!" you cried out, biting down hard on Bucky's shoulder as you started to cum, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, his pace growing sloppy.

"I-I love you princess, I love you so much-God m'gonna cum-fuck-s'so much for you-HNGG" He clung onto you like his life depended on it, shoving his cock in as deep as it would go, ropes of his warm spend shooting into you.

"I love you so much Jamie" your pussy clenched around his softening cock making him jolt, the both of you panting, pressing light kisses on sweat slicked skin. "Fell in love with you twice Sergeant"

Bucky blushed before throwing you a cocky smirk, still feeling happiness beyond what words could explain having you in his arms again.

"I'll always love you" Bucky whispered before pulling the covers up over both of you once again, staying deep inside you as you started to drift off to sleep, "No matter what"