#THE PRINCE OF KNOWLEDGE. reflection

[tidesfate]

THE MAW OF KNOWLEDGE // Hermaeus Mora

[eyehunger]

Okay I think the vibe is there actually I'm fucking with this

[eldritchborna]

I'll do a proper upload from my tablet to my computer later but finished the freak <3

[raayllum]

me holding tdp's list of motifs in my hands like "i love you guys So Much"

[tiramissyoucake]

Papa Viltrumite Mark pls? 🙇

Oooohh.... rubs my hands together mischievously. This is canon in the viltrumite Mark story but like further down the story after having a first son♡ high key fluff!!

"And what's the blue part?" Your son pointed to the vibrant blue of the illustration, the book would have told you that but humans know it as common knowledge, survivors of earth knew at least. "That's the ocean, sweetheart."

"Oshun?" Your son mimicked, looking at you with curious dark eyes. "It's pronounced 'O-shin', okay? It's a big body of water with all kinds of creatures and plants."

"Like a big lake?" Not quite, but he remembered the previous time you read to him, you smiled. "In a way, yes."

As your son peered over the worn book in your lap, his black head of hair blocking any clear sight of whatever parts of earth he was looking at, he pointed to an illustration of the earth's layers. "Is that earth's organs?"

You let out a small laugh, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Close, that's the earth's core."

"... mom? Can we go see earth?" He looked at you with so much hope, and it killed you to have to shoot it down. You didn't expect a child to remember that earth was nothing but a distant memory now.

You paused hearing the door open, a familiar exaggerative cape flowing in. "Dad!" You thanked God for children's low attention span as he kicked off the bed and sprinted to his father, Mark grinning and picking him up. "There's my boy."

You shut the book, setting it aside as you got up from your place. "You're back early..."

He hummed in response as he came close to you, kissing your cheek as your son gagged. "I couldn't stay away, I suppose."

"Dad, can we go to flying practice now?" The two of you perked up as your son excitedly held up a flying pose. "I think I'm getting the hang of it! I wanna do a loop-da-loop!" That brought out a laugh from the two of you, genuine from Mark, nervous from you.

"You'll be doing 'loop-da-loops' in your sleep soon enough but let's finish the basics before anything, okay?" Mark glanced at you, an expectant glint in his eye. "You'll come watch this time, won't you?"

"Oh- I don't wanna get in the way..." Your hesitance brought a pouty look to their faces, it was terrifying how similar they looked, Mark let your son down and before he could try to convince you, the boy was already on it.

"Mom, pleeeaaase? It's a lot of fun!! Dad can help you fly too!" He clung to your robes with the cutest puppy dog eyes, the dark hue reflected light so perfectly and made him look like an actual puppy. Your husband chuckled, setting a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm not opposed to that, I used to fly carrying your mother when she was pregnant with you, y'know?" Mark remembered the times he worried for you and resorted to carrying you for even the simplest tasks. "Did not need to know about the pregnant part!" Your son rolled his eyes, already inheriting his father's sass.

"Come on," Mark ushered. "It's like seeing him walk for the first time, you'll love it." Your son pouted, already floating out the door.

"No it's not! I'm a cool flyer! You'll see— ow!" You and your husband winced as your son bumped into the door too quickly in his flight, belting out an "I'm OK!" As he prepared for departure.

"... 9 months in my womb," you started, exasperated. "And he's nothing like me." You glared at Mark as he turned to you with a smile. "That's not true, he's got your resilience and curiosity." You rolled your eyes, he cupped your cheek to kiss you fondly.

"Maybe later, when he's all tuckered out... we can catch up?" His voice sounded too eager for it to be an innocent offer, his hands wrapping around you and pulling you closely. "I'll give you a preview during flying practice and—"

"Flying range isn't gonna wait forever, y'know?!" Your son interjected from somewhere in the hallway, causing Mark to sigh and part from you as you tried to calm down your flushed face. "He's got the ego of a Viltrumite Prince, that's for sure."

[0798f]

💞 — Secret Banter.

RELATIONSHIP: Ootori Kyoya x Reader

SUMMARY: Somehow, discovering a disheveled Kyoya in a commoner mall was only the second strangest thing Haruhi found out that day. Your existence took the number one spot.

A/N: I love secret relationship trope so much... Tell me Kyoya wouldn't keep his relationship under wraps.

This was far from the worst day Kyoya has ever had, but. Well. Today was not making it into the top 10 of best days for sure.

He was dragged to a labyrinth in his sleep and then subsequently abandoned by his friends. In a terrible outfit, no less. Kyoya wasn’t sure if he was relieved to have Haruhi rescue him or if he was mortified that she had to see him in this state.

Haruhi wasn’t sure either. She was in awe watching Kyoya eat a burger— it was like entering an alternate timeline. Compared to the rest of the host club, Kyoya was always more knowledgeable on the lives of commoners, but in a superficial way. He knew statistics and basic facts about regular people like a child knew facts about dinosaurs. Without Haruhi, Kyoya was as disconnected from the real world as everyone else at Ouran.

“… Kyoya?” The pair looked up at the voice calling Kyoya’s name. For a second Haruhi thought someone from the host club finally came back to look for their missing parent, but the person standing in front of them was a stranger to Haruhi. They had a bag of groceries and a confused expression. An utterly normal person.

The strangest part was that Kyoya clearly recognized this person. “(Name)?” His eyes reflected the same confused expression that the bystander had.

“Why… are you dressed like that?”

Now Kyoya was sure that mortification was the strongest emotion he felt today.

“Kyoya-senpai, you know this person?” Haruhi tried to figure out what kind of person would be shopping for groceries at a commoner’s mall but also be acquainted with the shadow prince of the host club. Related to the owner of the mall? No, that was too small scale for the level of high society that Ouran students dealt with. Them being related to the CEO that owns every mall chain across Japan was more likely.

He hesitated to answer, gaze lingering on the person in front of them. Kyoya carefully put down his burger before pushing up his glasses and stating matter-o-factly, “yes. Haruhi, this is my partner, (Name). (Name), this is the Haruhi Fujioka I told you about.”

Haruhi blinked. Partner? She went through her known information about Kyoya, which admittedly wasn’t a lot, but nothing pointed to him having a partner. Especially not a commoner! But the living proof was standing right next to their table and Haruhi was miffed, to say the least. “Partner?! Kyoya-senpai, you have a partner?!”

“Must you sound so shocked?” Kyoya retorted, and there was some earnesty in his otherwise sarcastic remark. It wasn’t like she ever asked him if he had a partner. Everyone just assumed he didn’t.

(Name) bowed following the introduction. “Fujioka-san,” they smiled. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

They really were a normal person. Dressed in plain clothes and unassuming. And polite. Haruhi realized early on at her transfer to Ouran that polite was rarely a word to describe the children of the wealthy and elite. Haruhi stood up to bow in return. “It’s nice to meet you too, (Name)-san. Sorry, I hope my reaction wasn’t rude. I had no idea Kyoya-senpai had a partner. Do you want to sit with us?”

Before (Name) had a chance to respond, Kyoya already grabbed a chair from an empty table and pulled it over. One exchanged glance with Kyoya was all it took to get (Name) to sit down. “Don’t worry about it, Fujioka-san. Kyoya doesn’t really tell people about me.”

“Please clarify that it is a mutual decision to keep our relationship private,” Kyoya sighed.

(Name) laughed. “Sorry, I was teasing.”

“No one knows? Also, you can call me Haruhi. Please don’t feel the need to be formal!” Haruhi was trying to figure out how to phrase questions that wouldn’t immediately get shut down by Kyoya. How did you meet, how long have you been together, how is your partner a commoner?

“Well, Tamaki-san knows. He found out after—“

Again, Kyoya was quick to interrupt. “Please don’t explain that story. It’s embarrassing.”

“I didn’t know you were worried about shame. Could’ve fooled me with that outfit of yours and your peculiar new hangout spot!” (Name) grinned, and Haruhi found herself in awe for the second time that day. She was used to Kyoya always having a witty remark ready for when one of the club members decided to yell at him, but (Name) might be his equal in that regard. Not only could they banter with Kyoya— Kyoya seemed to enjoy it. He had an unbeatable poker face but Haruhi definitely noticed the corners of his lips curling upwards as he looked at (Name). There was a softness in place of his usual cunning.

Haruhi leaned back in her chair, pleasantly entertained by the pair in front of her. “I guess it makes plenty of sense for Kyoya-senpai to have a private relationship. But, doesn’t that mean you don’t have a lot of time to spend with each other?”

“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t call it ideal. But, Kyoya is married to his job, y’know? I couldn’t take that away from him.”

That time, Kyoya pinched (Name)’s cheek in retaliation. “You’re making me sound like a bad partner. Yes, we don’t spend as much time together as the average couple, but we always make time for each other.”

“Have I ever told you that you look uncomfortable when you explain our relationship to other people?” Kyoya pulled on their cheek. “Agh! Let go!”

Kyoya complied with the request, but not before pressing a light kiss to the cheek he just bullied. He was a host, after all. He knew how to treat someone right. His regular customers would probably be furious to know that he was so chaste on physical affection because it was reserved for his dear partner.

(Name) wasn’t wrong about Kyoya being uncomfortable. He knew how to play the role of a host, but having to be honest about something real, in public, was a different ballpark entirely. But the fact that he was in a space where no one knew who he was or what his status was served to be quite freeing. The usual pressure on his shoulders of being an Ootori was alleviated for once, so he locked hands with (Name) over the table.

It was Haruhi’s turn to be cunning since she would never be afforded this opportunity against Kyoya again. “Kyoya-senpai has been so grumpy today,” Haruhi started. “But he relaxed as soon as you arrived, (Name)-san. He’s really fond of you.”

If (Name) wasn’t here, Kyoya would’ve probably found a way to twist Haruhi’s comment into more debt for her to pay off. But (Name)’s eyes lit up, so Kyoya let Haruhi get away with it this time.

“You’re really good at reading him, Haruhi-san! I may be teasing a lot, but he’s really a great guy. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.” (Name) talked about Kyoya like he was the most precious thing on the planet. For (Name), Kyoya wasn’t just the third Ootori son. He wasn’t burdened with the harshest expectations. All he had to do was be good to them and sometimes Kyoya wished he lived in a world where that was the only thing he ever had to be worried about in his life.

But, right then, in a commoner mall Kyoya had no familiarity with, it was like living that alternate life. So Kyoya allowed himself to smile at (Name) and take in the praise.

“Neither could I.”

masterlists.

[winterarmyy]

Against All Odds | Part I

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 8.1k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)

P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.

He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation. 

Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.

They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.

She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence. 

And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.

Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.

"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.

Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"

Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."

Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"

Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."

Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.

Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.

"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."

Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.

Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family. 

Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.

The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.

As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.

When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.

There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.

When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time. 

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.

Could the rumors about him be wrong?

"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.

As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.

The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.

Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?

The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.

The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.

The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.

Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile. 

The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.

As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.

The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.

Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”

Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.

“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.” 

His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.

As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.

Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.

With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.

Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.

Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.

Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her. 

Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.

His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.

Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.

Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.

It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed. 

Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.

Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs. 

She admired his body as much as he did of hers.

But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart. 

Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.

But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.

“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.

Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.

So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.

Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.

It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core. 

When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.

“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?” 

She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.

Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.

Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied,  “Yes, please”.

Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.

“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.

The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again. 

The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure. 

His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue. 

“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything. 

Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.

Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.

And that is exactly what happened next.

The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.

He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”

Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.

Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.

Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.

Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.

“You’re doing so good, my dear.”

“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”

“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”

“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction. 

Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.

“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.

With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”

Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.

“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.

Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.

“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.

Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.

"My Dearest Y/N,

I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.

Yours always,

Bucky"

The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.

Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.

However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.

The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.

Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them. 

The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.

She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.

A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."

The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.

She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?

She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.

As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.

Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.

"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."

"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."

Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.

Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.

As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.

Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar. 

The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.

Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.

And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.

Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.

As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.

"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.

Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.

“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”

Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”

Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.

Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.

“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.

Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.

Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.

Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!

[jyeshindra]

Astro Observations - Pt. III

🤖 - I think those with lots of Leo energy in the chart (Suns especially) have karma to do with transcending the ego. The sense of self and the way self is expressed needs to be adjusted here. Sometimes the native may have too much ego, too much confidence. Sometimes too little. The fire must be tempered, nurtured, matured so that Leo can lead and help others spiritually develop and self-actualize.

🤖 - Mercury nakshatras have a cunning/beguiling element to them. Mercury is the prince/princess, there's something naive and innocent but observant at the same time. Perhaps they are not in charge, but they're in the rooms where decisions are made. Mercury is listening, watching, but free of the burdens of authority. The nature of these nakshatras and even Mercurial energy (Virgo, Gem, Merc Dominance) carries this watchful yet naive energy. One who possesses knowledge yet can feign ignorance when necessary.

🤖 - Sun dominants/Leo energy can be SO STUBBORN. They are unmoving and stick to their own way of seeing things even if it hurts them. Can be belligerent as well, similar to Mars. The general and the king are similar in these ways.

🤖 - I read online that Water Moons/Venus/Suns may be really attracted to antique items. Throw in Capicorn and Taurus too. Makes sense...they say they akashic records are held in water, creating a connection between memory/history and water. Even our bodies holding onto to experiences and trauma when it is mostly made of water. Capricorn is just a sign that appreciates age/time while Taurus appreciates quality which usually stands the tests of time. Water energy enjoys nostalgia and sentimentality, the type to hold onto memories, feelings, and experiences and love anything created from or to hold memories. The type to love something like Snapchat memories or time capsules.

🤖 - Aquarius is unpredictable, truly the lightning bolt--reflecting that Uranian quality. They tow this line between structure and innovation, being capable of seeing the form and changing it when necessary. Aquarius is the type who can justify murder if it is for the greater good. That cold detachment gives them the ability to be objective in a way that comes off as cold, but I think their perspective is a reflection of their kind of sensitivity.

🤖 - Capricorn/Saturn energy moves SLOWLY. Those with this energy can be very lazy! Saturn is time and it TAKES it's time. It's like these natives know they need to pick up the pace and move, but they can't help but indulge their own laziness. I know they're often seen as workhorses but I think they can be just lazy if not moreso!

That's all from me. Stay tuned for the next one :D

-Jyeshindra

[saintobio]

LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS !

amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.

♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader

♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au

♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added

♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D

♱ status. on-going (slow updates)

♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. THE LADY

ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE

ACT III. THE KNIGHT

ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS

ACT V. THE BLESSED

ACT VI. THE SIN

ACT VII. THE REVELATION

ACT VIII. THE ENEMY

ACT IX. THE LOVER

ACT X. THE EMPRESS

EPILOGUE.

PROLOGUE 

Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate! 

You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes. 

No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!

In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.

Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.

And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?

Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.

As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.

“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?” 

“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”

Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.

“Will you atone for your sins?” 

“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”

As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.

Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.

“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”

There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.

And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.

“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”

“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”

“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”

In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.

Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince. 

Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?

As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.

Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?” 

Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?” 

She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.

“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.” 

⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

[cjrae]

Rank And Responsibility. Or: The Hairpin Scene from Jinshi's POV.

Be warned now about the consequences of choosing to do an English Lit degree - you end up doing lit crit for fun. With that in mind, let's break down the hairpin scene at the end of Covert Operations (Episode 5). Mild spoilers for Jinshi's arc are below.

While this moment does kick off the romantic subplot, with all the implications that giving Maomao the hairpin out of his own hair has, I would argue that this is not the moment Jinshi realizes he's in love with Maomao. Instead, from his point of view, this scene demonstrates how Jinshi handles failure.

Holding Power In An Open Palm

This is still very early in the story. Our first hint to Jinshi's true rank does come in this scene, but for now we know him as the manager of the Rear Palace. For the three thousand people who live and work there, for all intents and purposes, Jinshi is the highest authority they will encounter. He literally has the power of life and death over them, either directly in the case of the servants and eunuchs, or in the case of the consorts, his word to the Emperor directly can serve the same purpose. We also see Jinshi use this power early on - he's not just there to keep order, but also to test the consorts' loyalties and virtue. We never see what happens to the lower-ranked consort who attempted to invite Jinshi back to her room, but at the very least that report ensures that her already small chance of the Emperor choosing her as a potential mother of the nation is utterly cut off - and if she doesn't bear children, she will be discarded.

We also know that Jinshi will not hesitate to order corporal punishment if he views it necessary - for example, when Maomao discovers that the toxic face powder is still being used by Consort Lihua's ladies in waiting, she mentions in the aftermath that the eunuch who failed to recover the powder was flogged, while the lady in waiting who hid the powder is put in solitary confinement. These are brutal punishments - and if we consider the historical inspirations, these are also very restrained consequences. For hiding an item that caused the death of the prince (unfortunately, the more valuable child) and has put the life of one of the Emperor's favored High Consorts in danger, Jinshi would be utterly within his rights to order executions. If ignorance is a sin, ignorance in the face of knowledge is a greater one.

Microcosm of Li

For all that Jinshi holds his power lightly, he also takes the responsibility that power bestows upon him quite seriously. It's worth noting that Jinshi takes over governing the Rear Palace shortly after Maomao's service contract is purchased. (Remember, Xiaolan talks about the "beautiful, new eunuch that's been posted to the central courtyard," which tells us that Jinshi has not been in the Rear Palace long enough to become a fixture - he's an object of speculation and admiration from episode 1).

In context it's clear that, with the birth of two Imperial children, his job is to ensure the survival of the Imperial line and investigate why children of the Emperor are dying consistently in one of the wealthiest and safest places in the entire empire. We're shown him running in between Lady Lihua and Lady Gyokuyou to ensure that their very sick children are being seen to properly, investigating what could be causing it, while also managing tensions as rumors about the Emperor's children being cursed begin to spread and outright accusations of sorcery are being thrown between consorts. While the audience might immediately scoff along with Maomao at the idea of one consort cursing another, if Maomao hadn't found the cause of death, those types of accusations followed by Lady Lihua's and Princess Lingli's inevitable deaths could have ended with Lady Gyokuyou's execution.

The Rear Palace is a reflection of the nation as a whole. No Imperial heirs plus the deaths of two High Consorts with various foreign and domestic political ties had the potential to thrust the entire nation into chaos. Jinshi's choices have very real consequences, so when Maomao discovers what the true cause of death is and sends her warning, Jinshi looks at Maomao and doesn't see a person. He sees a "perfect pawn." A tool, one with talents that have ensured that at least one Imperial child has survived and providing a rational explanation why these children have died so that it can be prevented from happening again - and a skill set that can be turned to preventing any more shenanigans in the Rear Palace that could threaten the empire's foundation.

And, as Gaoshun points out, in the beginning of the hairpin scene, she is a toy. Maomao amuses Jinshi up until this point.

For all that Jinshi is shown wielding power with a light hand and a responsible mindset, it literally doesn't occur to him that the people working in the rear palace have stories - some tragic - about how they came to be there. They are resources to be used as befits the Emperor's (and therefore the nation's) need.

Hidden Beauty

When Maomao turns around and Jinshi doesn't recognize her until she speaks, he's shocked. He thought he knew exactly who and what this girl was - ugly and unremarkable, except for her intellectual brilliance and the challenge in managing her by other means than empty compliments and smiles. He attempts to recover and assumes that she is enhancing her looks - and is shocked again when he realizes that the face Maomao has presented to him so far is a protective mask against attracting attention. In a world where beauty is both a currency and a tool that others covet, Jinshi doesn't understand why Maomao would deliberately devalue herself like that. So she tells him.

This is the moment Maomao becomes a person to Jinshi.

Not a toy, not a pawn. Someone who has been ripped from her home and her life illegally and sold off. It's in this moment that Jinshi is forced to confront the ugly side of the society he lives in, people who would rape Maomao out of pure convenience or just take a "borderline marketable" girl off the street in order to get extra drinking money.

Worse, Jinshi is complicit in Maomao's captivity. The Rear Palace has bought her contract - and as the manager of the Rear Palace, Jinshi is responsible for everything that happens within its' walls. The fact that Jinshi does not personally oversee service contracts is irrelevant. The buck stops with him. If the Matron of the Serving Women or whoever is below her is buying these contracts without checking their sources, that is Jinshi's fault because he has allowed a lax enough system to flourish. He has failed to govern this microcosm of the nation wisely, with thought for the welfare of the least powerful among his people. Worse, he has failed to even notice the problem - Maomao may say she's angry about having been kidnapped and sold, but she doesn't react in a way that indicates anger. Instead, she's resigned. Yes, what happened to her was wrong and she's angry about it, but there's literally nothing she or Jinshi can do.

Or Is There?

Jinshi offers Maomao two apologies, the first of which is our first hint to his true status. "I'm sorry we couldn't police them better." Maomao immediately blows off this apology - she points out that there's no way Jinshi should have known and has a very "all's well that ends well" attitude about her situation - her contract will be up eventually and in the meantime she's managed to land in a fulfilling role. Essentially Maomao is telling Jinshi that this apology is not his to make - he's overstepping his responsibility. And, if Jinshi were simply the manager of the Rear Palace, she would be right. It's his job to ensure that the Rear Palace is properly staffed, not to regulate that all contracts comply with the law.

Jinshi apologizes again. This time, he offers no other context. He doesn't accept Maomao's absolution of responsibility - because he knows (even if we, the audience, don't) otherwise. It can certainly be read as Jinshi refusing to accept easy absolution, and the rest of those witnessing the scene, apart from Gaoshun, certainly take it that way.

Instead, he takes the hair stick from his own hair and places it in Maomao's. Their entire relationship has just been upended; Maomao is a person who has been gravely wronged and it is Jinshi's responsibility to begin to make it right. Aside from the personal implications of giving her the hairpin (and the faint blush on his face makes it clear that he's aware of them), it is a form of restitution. There is an unspoken social contract Jinshi is offering that Maomao does not understand in the slightest. It never occurs to her that Jinshi would do something for her with no thought of what he would receive in return, because of the difference in their social ranks. But, from Jinshi's perspective, that social difference is the point. He has failed her and, as the person of higher rank, it is his responsibility to do what is within his power to begin to remedy the situation in front of him.

And, of course, in that moment he sees Maomao in a new light, the other meaning of gifting her his hairpin has fertile ground to take root in Jinshi's mind.

[tidesfate]

Cat Mora for the festivities? Cat Mora for the festivities

[eyehunger]

Forgot to do proper layers rip but a Concept

[eldritchborna]

Throwback to the fact I gave Mora an illithid form and Ome a tes Seeker au. My cephalopods interlock

[haresvoid]

Okay wait forgot to post my sketches of Moras true form here given its whole statement of "the whole of self has never been seen" / based on its sigil on the black books

anyways hi

[aventurineswife]

Hi

How about a Honkai Star Rail fic with Phainon X Mydei x Jiyan male reader who’s a Chrysos Heir. And maybe if you have done Amphoreus quest. Something along the lines of Jiyan rushing to the fight with Nikkador to assist. Because a it’s his two boyfriends in danger even if they can handle themselves. And b he is also a medic as well and can tend to any wounds even if Mydei can heal, he wants to ensure they don’t die.

No Victory Without You

Summary: In the midst of Okhema’s siege, Phainon and Mydei stand against the Mad King Nikador, but even heroes have their limits. As a Chrysos Heir and a skilled medic, you rush into battle, refusing to stand by while your lovers fight alone. With your mastery of wind-based Resonance and healing abilities, you aid them in the brutal confrontation, proving that their strength is not just in their individual prowess—but in your unbreakable bond together.

Tags: Phainon x Male!Reader x Mydei, Battlefield Romance, Protective Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Emotional & Physical Tension, Reader is a Chrysos Heir & Medic, Jiyan based Reader.

Warnings: Violence & Combat (Sword fights, injuries, blood), Mentions of War & Destruction, Mild Injury Detail, Protective & Slightly Reckless Reader, Emotional Angst Over the Possibility of Losing Loved Ones, Flashes of Mydei’s Self-Sacrificial Nature, Reader Being a Fierce & Capable Fighter/Healer.

The battlefield was chaotic, the air thick with the stench of blood, ash, and the fury of an ongoing war. Nikador, the Mad King, had descended upon Okhema with a force that could shatter even the most stalwart of defenses. But two figures stood in defiance against him—Phainon, the graceful warrior of the Chrysos Heirs, and Mydei, the relentless and undying prince of Castrum Kremnos. They fought side by side, their blades cutting through the tide of enemies that sought to overrun the city.

Yet, despite their power, even heroes had their limits.

From the distance, the familiar figures of both men glimmered against the backdrop of the destruction. Phainon’s white and blue silk coat fluttered in the wind like a beacon, his claymore flashing in arcs of brilliant light. Mydei, the “Undying,” was a force of nature, his every strike carrying the weight of a thousand battles. Even with his strength, however, there was something in his eyes—something that reflected the weariness of battle.

That’s when you arrived.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you sprinted across the war-torn land, your hands steady despite the blood-soaked earth beneath your boots. As a Chrysos Heir yourself, you were no stranger to combat. Your training as both a warrior and a medic had made you a force to be reckoned with, capable of healing wounds as quickly as you could inflict them. But today, you weren’t just here for the fight. You were here for them—Phainon and Mydei, your two lovers, your anchors in the chaos of the world.

They can handle themselves, you reminded yourself, but that didn’t make the urgency of your mission any less pressing. The sound of your footsteps seemed drowned out by the roar of the battle ahead. You had seen them fight countless times, but the knowledge that they were both in danger at the same time had ignited a primal urge within you. They didn’t need you to protect them—but you couldn’t bear the thought of losing them.

Phainon, with his warm smile and gentle nature, had always been your steadying force, reminding you to slow down and focus on the details. His heart was pure, and though he had a cheerfulness that could light even the darkest corners of the world, you knew he bore a heavy responsibility as part of the Chrysos Heirs. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt, not when you were so close, not when you could help.

Mydei, on the other hand, was the fire that drove you. His unyielding will, his inner strength, and his fierce determination to protect those around him—those qualities had drawn you to him from the very beginning. But you knew, too, how much that fire burned him. How much he carried with him. And though his healing powers were unmatched, you always feared the toll the battles took on his body and soul. Even as he fought alongside Phainon, you couldn’t shake the worry that this battle might be the one to break him.

Reaching the battleground, you threw yourself into the fray, ignoring the carnage around you. The Strife Titans and their minions were relentless, but your focus was singular—them.

You found Phainon first, engaged in a fierce clash with a monstrous titan, his claymore cleaving through the air with precision and strength. His usual cheerfulness was absent today, replaced with a focused determination as he cut down enemies left and right. But you could see the strain in his movements—his normally flawless technique was slowing, his breath coming in heavier gasps.

“Phainon!” you shouted, rushing to his side. He turned to you, a brief flicker of relief in his eyes.

“[Name]!” he greeted you with his typical warmth, but it was clear that he was running on reserves. “What are you—”

“I’m not letting you do this alone,” you interrupted, grabbing a nearby shield and stepping into the fray beside him. You pressed your hand against his side as you summoned your healing ability, mending a deep gash that had appeared on his side, just below his ribs. He winced but nodded gratefully.

“I’m fine. Focus on Mydei!” he urged, nodding toward the distant figure of Mydei, who was locked in combat with Nikador.

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned your attention to Mydei, your pulse quickening as you saw him facing down the Mad King himself. Mydei was a force to be reckoned with, but even he had limits. Nikador was a monster, and every swing of his corrupted weapon seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. Your instincts kicked in, and you moved swiftly toward Mydei, blocking out everything but him.

As you neared, you saw Mydei faltering, his sword swinging more slowly than usual, his breath ragged. Nikador, ever relentless, pressed the advantage.

“Mydei!” you called out, rushing to his side and standing between him and the advancing Mad King. Mydei’s eyes locked with yours for a brief moment, and you could see the weariness and concern there.

“[Name],” he said, his voice strained. “What are you doing here? You need to—”

“Shut up and focus on staying alive,” you snapped, your tone leaving no room for argument. You pressed your hand against his back, mending the worst of his wounds, though you knew his resilience would keep him standing even without your help. But you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to do more. You needed to do more.

Before he could respond, Nikador advanced, swinging his massive blade with terrifying speed. Mydei barely had time to block it, and the impact sent him stumbling back. But you were ready. You summoned a burst of wind with your Resonance abilities, the force sending Nikador stumbling back just enough for Mydei to regain his footing.

“That’s enough of this,” you growled, standing tall. “You won’t take him from me.”

Your gaze turned to Nikador, your resolve solidifying. You wouldn’t let your partners fall—not today, not on your watch.

Just as you prepared for the final confrontation, a familiar voice called out, “We fight together.”

Phainon stood beside you now, his claymore at the ready, his spirit unbroken despite the toll the battle had taken on him. And next to him, Mydei stood tall, his expression fierce, as if he had never been hurt at all.

In that moment, you realized: This was how it was meant to be.

Together, the three of you would stand strong, and no Titan would take what was yours.

And as the final clash with Nikador rang out, you knew that this wasn’t just a fight for Okhema. It was a fight for each other—for the bond that held you, Phainon, and Mydei together, against all odds.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Does primarch physiology reflect space marine in terms of the extra organs and stuff? Or are they basically just biologically humans but Super Ultra Mega in every way? Two hearts, or just one Super Heart?

Primarchs are way more transhuman than marines, and what we know of their physiology reflects that. When Horus was wounded at Davin, the marines doing medical work on him didn't have a clue what they were looking at, internally.

To quote False Gods; Vaddon had never expected to have the Warmaster for a patient. The primarch’s biology was as far beyond that of a normal Astartes warrior as his own was from a mortal man, and Vaddon knew that he was out of his depth. Only the Emperor himself had the knowledge to delve into the body of a primarch with confidence, and the enormity of what was occurring was not lost on him.

And, on Konrad's body in Prince of Crows; Who among the Legion has ever treated a wounded primarch before? We’re working blind. The wounds have closed, though not cleanly. Blood loss is severe. Cranial damage and oxygen starvation are still both potentially terminal, or crippling. Haemorrhaging is rampant. Organs I cannot even name are lacerated and severed from vein networks we’ve never seen before.

There are surface similarities, of course; primarchs seem to have two hearts, and Konrad is capable of eating things for information. However, that doesn't mean a primarch has an omophagea, it's more likely the omophagea was created for astartes to mimic that ability. The geneseed process, super soldier stuff aside, allows marines to palely mirror and approximate aspects of their primarchs, more than anything else.

At the end of the day, the creation of the primarchs involved a lot of warp shenanigans, and it definitely shows.

As an aside, the "biologically humans but Super Ultra Mega in every way with one Super Heart" thing is Custodes. Custodes are alchemically perfected and ascended superhumans. Primarchs are probably closer to daemons than humans, or even marines, to be honest.

Good question!