#Thread Lift Blog

[musubi-sama]

Papa Mama, Kiss!

Nanami Kento, girl dad, and how the small commands an almost-2year-old can etch into his heart.

A/N: Thanks @pseudowho for the gentle nudge to write this one out. And for everyone else, if it's not obvious, based on real events.

WC: 1.4K

Fatherhood, raising and nurturing children to become their best selves. To give them wings and teach them to fly on their own. This is what Nanami Kento dreamed of for years. But almost two years in, his daughter was testing his last thread of patience.

“Papa, milk!” Kento returns with a glass of milk.

“Papa, tea!” Kento blinks, and returns with a glass of tea, finishing off the milk for himself along the way.

“Milk?” Kento sighs. Just as he starts to lift himself from his chair, you put your arm on his.

“Sweetest, could you take a sip of the tea first?” you offer the glass to your daughter, and she happily starts to drink the water, quickly emptying the cup. Sufficiently satiated, she goes back to eating her lunch.

You shoot your husband a soft smile, you’re met with a weary, but loving gaze in return. Features worn by time, bolstered by love, and cut by the effort of child rearing.

You both had done your research, coming to similar conclusions with differing approaches on how to tackle the approaching “Terrible Twos.”

Kento couldn’t understand the parenting blogs, as they made any solutions to challenges seem so…. simple to solve.

“Guaranteed to solve purple crying with one simple trick!” “Sleep training made easy! You’ll have quiet nights in less than a week!” “10 steps to handling a temper tantrum in public. Number 6 will surprise you”

But every solution seemed to be milquetoast, at best, and unhelpful at worst. But almost two years in, he started to get the hang of things. The secret is that his daughter was her own person and required him to think on his feet. And despite the new levels of exhaustion he had reached, especially in the early days, Nanami Kento was euphoric to see his daughter every morning. He missed her in the depths of his heart every second she was at daycare, or even just with you running errands.

Kento was a modern dad, bucking the trend by taking the full year of paternity leave along with you. Reassuring you that there would still be an open spot in daycare once it was time to return to work. And he was right. He helped fill out the pages and pages of paperwork. And choosing the 13 facilities to rank in hopes you were offered a spot at your number 1? Of course, your salaryman husband excelled at sorting the data and organizing the thick booklets of information.

When it came time to drop off your daughter on her first day, and it was only for two hours, you both arrived with big, nervous, first-time parent jitters. And were the only full family there in the morning drop off. The other parents sharing knowing glances at you and Kento fumbling clothes, trying to find the bins you needed, almost dropping the thermometer, and giving maybe one, two, three, too many kisses to your daughter as you handed her off.

The walk to the local coffee shop was filled with dreams of what fun your daughter would have with her class. Kento was hiding his nerves well, but you could see right through him. You saw the tremor in his hand, the nearly imperceptible gravel in his voice. He didn’t hold back for the other parents’ sake; he’d never do that. But he didn’t want your daughter to catch his nervous and scared energy. He knew if she felt his anxiety, it would make handing her off so much harder. He couldn’t bear to hear your cries of separation.

So, when you both returned two hours later, Kento lit up with the biggest smile and the most eager arms as the workers handed your daughter off to him.

“Oh, my love, I’ve missed you! What did you play with? Who did you meet? Please tell me all about your day, spare no details,” your doting husband cooed at your one-year-old. He continued an entire conversation with her, even if words didn’t form from the baby babble.

You spoke with the workers to understand how she fared for the short visit. They told you how she didn’t cry not even once. And how tomorrow your daughter can stay even longer, through the morning snack. It made you so happy to get such fantastic feedback.

After a few weeks, you all settled into a lovely routine. Both of you working from home left flexibility for drop off and pick up. And as your daughter became more capable of bigger play times, Kento would take her out to the local park so that you could make dinner most days. You loved the peace and quiet, he loved the bonding time.

As your daughter’s language built up over the months leading up to her second birthday, she was beginning to string together commands. Able to ask for help, food, drink, toys. She even started to command who could sit next to her and then tell them to “moot (move)” away and a new person would be not-so-gently asked to sit next to her.

“Papa,” she would point to a spot on the ground next to her, in the middle of the playground. And Kento is not the type to ignore the requests of a child. He took a polite squat next to your daughter, waiting with bated breath for the next command she would give.

“Mmm. Ah…up,” she reached her hands up in the air.

“Do you want up?” Kento reached over to lift his little one up in the air with a light, controlled, toss.

“Papa!”

You sat on a nearby bench watching, camera clicking over and over, catching the precious moments to share with your friends and family across the world.

That night ran like every other, a well-oiled machine. You took a bath with your daughter, Kento took her for a fresh diaper, clean pajamas, and to help him make, and for her to drink, the nightly milk bottle.

And the final step, you welcomed a sleepy toddler into your weary arms. Tonight, she was laden down with her stuffies of choice, a small Sylveon and Doraemon.

“Okay, let’s cuddle up here, please,” you coax a sleepy toddler into your lap and to lay against your chest. It seems like every day it gets harder as she grows bigger. What happened to your teeny tiny bub?

“Good night, I love you,” Kento leans down to give a kiss to the tiny (well, not so tiny anymore) forehead. “And I love you,” he leans over to your waiting lips as you tilt your head up. Every night you get a soft, but gently urgent kiss from Kento.

“Papa iss?” you both break from the kiss to hear a tired request. Your daughter had sat up from your chest and looked expectantly at Kento.

“Of course,” he leans down for another kiss, this time her cheek. A satisfied smile spreads across her face.

“Mama iss?”

“Yes, love.”

“Mama papa iss?” and you looked up at Kento to make sure you heard her correctly.

“Did she…?”

“You heard her now,” and Kento leans down for another kiss, this time he lingers a heartbeat longer. As he pulls away, in the dim haze of the nightlight he catches your waterline beginning to fill.

“Oh, baby, you’re so sweet,” you coo at your daughter, pulling her into a tender hug.

“Good night, you two,” Kento is standing by the door, soft smile from lips to eyes. He slips out and gently shuts the door.

After you spend a few minutes cuddling with your daughter, you gently lay her in the crib and quietly slip out of the bedroom, leaving her to take the last step to dreamworld.

You sit down on the couch next to Kento. Still feeling the buzz from twenty minutes ago, he reaches over to cup your face.

“How are you feeling?”

“I am going to ride that high for weeks. I can’t believe it,” your eyes can’t hold back the tears of love and happiness. You feel every bit of the dichotomy between the hard moments and the soaring highs of happiness.

Kento could feel his heart grow and swell. The small command would replay in his mind until his dying breath. It would be a story he shared as the father of the bride. An endearing tale he treasured, a memory he could rely on to get him through overtime.

Coaxing you into his lap, Kento presses his lips to yours much more urgently than the last kiss.

[jj-one]

PRESS PLAY !

your boyfriend Jungkook convinces you to make a sextape with him, ultimately ending up with you getting wrecked on camera.

pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: pwp (plot is barely there), smut, piv, unprotected sex, dom!jungkook/sub!reader, manhandling, daddy kink?, there is absolutely nothing holy about this fic… read at your own risk that’s all i’m gonna say tbh words: 3.0k

[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror one last time, threading his fingers through his thick, silky hair before hitting the record button to start filming.

He had the camera set up on a tripod placed in front of the bed, flashing you a soft smile. You couldn’t stop ogling his divine features, he looked so damn good. His messy jet-black hair swept the sides of his face and was only in a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. He just looks like pure heaven, unable to keep yourself contained as you sneak glances at his nicely toned, heavily tattooed body. You can literally stare at his beautiful sculpted abs all day, he was the true definition of perfection.

‘How’d I get so lucky to have the hottest boyfriend alive?’ You often thought to yourself.

“M’kay, ready babe?” Jungkook asks reassuringly, he knows you’re excited to do this just as much as he is.

You nod your head “mhm, was born ready!” He chuckles at your cuteness, pressing the little red ‘record’ button on his camera.

Once the camera begins rolling Jungkook wastes no time to spring into action, turning towards you to cup your face in his large hands. He kisses you hungrily, causing you to moan ever so slightly into him, without breaking the kiss you both land onto the bed— he’s hovering over your frame providing light touches to your thigh. You were enjoying every minute of this so far, never getting enough of the sweet taste of him. Pulling away for a second, he grabs ahold of your neck, keeping you in place while his free hand roam all over your upper body. He presses wet kisses to your jaw and chin, then comes back up to kiss your pretty lips once again, making the kiss grow sloppier and heavier. A string of Jungkook’s saliva forms when he momentarily detaches hisself from your lips, smiling down at you. It was more of a devilish smile though, a smile that looks like he was going to snatch the soul out of your body. You two play around on the bed for a bit, passionately kissing and enjoying each other’s presence.

“Come here baby,” Jungkook says, instructing you to get on top of him now, positioning himself behind one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. You do exactly as you’re told and get on his lap to straddle him, he grabs your face with his left hand to kiss you some more while rubbing your ass, harshly slapping it in the process. You wore the tiniest pink micro skirt with bows on the side, it was a mesh material and super see through. Jungkook loved the outfit you were wearing since it was a tiny two-piece crop top and skirt, adoring the curves and shape of your body in the least bit of clothing possible. Slowly lifting up your skirt now, he licks his lips when looking down at your bare pussy, teasing your entrance with his tatted fingers. You quietly gasp as he rubs your soaked folds in an up and down, slow motion, making you subconsciously twitch from sensitivity.

“My god.. you’re so fucking wet babygirl,” Jungkook groaned as he slid two fingers inside, “look how much you’re dripping already babe.” he whispers, staring in awe at his fingers disappearing into your sweet cunt. The room’s filled with only sounds of your wetness, combined with the soft moans you utter, all the juices dripping down your legs and his thumb brushing over your clit was having you see stars.

“You hear that? That’s what good pussy’s supposed to sound like,” Jungkook brags while looking over at the camera, he’s taking this very serious, as if you’re going to end up posting this on PornHub or something. You loved it though and you can tell how into this he is, which only makes you want to do a better job at pleasing him. You moaned louder for him as his fingers go deeper into you, reaching those spots that you never could. Rolling your eyes back as he fingers you harder, he was soaked in your juices, obsessed with the view behold him. You match the movements of his pace, grinding against his digits whilst he reaches a certain spongy spot— feeling so close to cumming already.

Then he abruptly took his fingers out of your dripping cunt, denying you of your orgasm. You whined loudly, clenching again just to feel something, wanting more of him filling you up at this very moment. You childishly pout and beg for more, but he just shushes you and flashes a smirk at your whininess. “Don’t worry sweet pea, m’gonna give you exactly what you need..” Jungkook rasps, still staring down at your cute pussy, but this time spreading your lips apart. He ran his finger down to your clit once again to gently rub in circles, making it even more puffy and swollen. Basking in all your beauty as you threw your head back from the intense pleasure.

“Wanna taste you,” Jungkook’s voice almost sounds desperate, not wanting to waste another second. “Come sit on my face babydoll,” he motions for you to temporarily get off of him, lying down on the bed, requesting that you still keep your skirt on. Placing yourself onto him and comfortably sit on his face, his mouth attaches to your pussy quicker than you can form a thought, already ferociously sucking on your clit. His hands went straight to your ass, slapping each cheek every chance he could, forming blatant red hand prints on your butt.

Jungkook was eating you out like his life was depending on it, uncontrollably moaning his name over and over again. You were in a frenzy as you grind on his face, grabbing the top of his head as if he was able to even go anywhere, his face was quite literally glued to your pussy. Jungkook kept at it for what felt like hours, your juices leaking all over his face without a care in the world. Then all of a sudden you felt this weird sensation, something you’ve never experienced before. It was the same slimy sensation that was all too familiar, but just in a different hole instead. Jungkook was licking your ass, his tongue kept flicking it at first, but now he’s fully immersed into it. He’s never done this to you before but it felt so amazing, it felt just as good as him eating you out but had a distinctly different feel to it.

“You like it baby?” He asks when pulling his tongue away, replacing it with his fingers. His fingers go so deep in your little hole making you squeal out loud.

“Mmm… yes daddy, I do!” A string of moans escape you, sounding so pretty that it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears. Smirking up at you while his digits continue going in and out of your ass, planting a quick kiss to your pussy.

“Fuck, I love you so much my love,” even during moments like these, Jungkook still reminded you how much he adores you, going back to licking your sensitive clit while still fingering your ass. You were in utopia, lost in the magical feeling of his tongue and fingers doing wonders on you. Jungkook could totally be a pornstar if he wanted to, he had the looks, the skill, and stamina.

“I love you so much kookie..” you mewl, closing your eyes from how intense all of this was. You can feel your release coming any minute and you only got louder for him, grabbing the strands of his hair, gripping it with everything you had. You were riding his face like a rodeo and he was more than here for it, his tongue never letting up on your clit. When he dragged a long stripe across your heat, that was all it took for you to cum all over his face. Slowing down your pace as you finally chase your high, smothering Jungkook with your creamy, juicy pussy.

“Goddamn babe, you made such a mess.” Jungkook grunts out when releasing you from his grasp, his face completely drenched with your juices. You come down from being on top and lower yourself to kiss his wet lips, getting a taste of you on his tongue.

Jungkook tells you to get up and stand directly in front of the camera, you immediately follow his orders. He makes his way over to you, ordering you again to get on your knees in a stern tone. Situating yourself down onto the floor, you pull his boxers down and his cock springs out freely from it’s barriers. Making steady eye contact with the camera while grabbing his thick, lengthy cock, the tip was so red and puffy, precum leaking out to make you even more hungry for him. You wasted zero time in filling your mouth with Jungkook’s cock, it felt so warm against your tongue, loving the prominent veins that would show when he was extra hard. You start taking in his length and getting a good rhythm going, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook winces at the sensation, taking a fistful of your hair and slamming the entirety of his cock into your mouth. His length hits the back of your throat, coming into contact with your uvula, causing you to make a sudden gagging noise. The drool peeking out from the corners of your mouth becoming more apparent as he fucks your pretty mouth.

“You have the best lips for giving head babe,” Jungkook coos while sighing out and throwing his head back, “your mouth is so fucking good to me…” He couldn’t stop praising you, you were like an angel to him. An innocent angel that was only a freak for him. Jungkook starts to get a little rougher with you, forcefully pushing his cock even further down your throat, causing you to choke for real this time.

“Yeah just like that baby, choke on it,” he strokes your hair out the way to get a better look at you. He thrives off taking control of you, see how far he can push you, he knows you can handle it though, he does it out of pure love. “Like being stuffed with a mouthful of my cock, hm?”

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, look at you,” Jungkook continues degrading you, “sucking my dick on camera like the filthy whore you are.”

You keep on sucking his cock as you look him in the eyes, the words he’s saying right now is all you need to hear for you to become even more of a dripping mess. Your wetness is only growing and it’s starting to spill onto the floor, oh how embarrassing…

Jungkook’s cock was buried deep inside your mouth, managing to fit all of him without gagging anymore. He’s trained you so well over the years it doesn’t take much warming up for all of him to settle in perfectly, it’s like it was made specifically for you. You stay like this for a while, feeling his fat cock throbbing in your mouth as you gaze up at his gorgeous face through your lashes, appreciating how much you admire him. You’d honestly do anything to make him happy. After awhile, you release him from your mouth and go straight to his balls, sucking them up like a vacuum. Jungkook moans out so violently that you think the neighbors could probably hear that one, your eyes grew wide as you didn’t expect him to be so vocal from that. Seeing the biggest smile etched on your boyfriend’s face.

“Shit.. you’re so good at that baby,” he compliments you again, holding the back of your head for dear life. You could suck him off for hours without ever getting tired of it.

He pulls you away from him, telling you to get back on the bed and to bend over with your ass facing up. You do so without hesitation and begin arching, ready for him to do whatever he wants. He proceeds to spread your pussy lips again, as if earlier wasn’t enough already, he dips his tongue back into your soaking wet heat. Your mouth goes agape, barely able to make a sound, only letting out a small moan as he continues, spitting a little on your slit and rubbing it in. He eats you out again while you look back at the camera, whimpering when he squeezes your left ass cheek and gives it a harsh slap. You whimper from all the stimulation, body vibrating as he chuckles at how adorable you are.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” Jungkook is so obsessed with you, but it’s a mutual obsession amongst each other. He took a short break away from your wetness, “you don’t know what you do to me y/n.”

All you could do in that moment was moan like crazy, he was making you feel astronomically good. He licked a couple more languid stripes across your slit and gave it a little slap once he was done. Lifting his head up, he’s finally going to do what he’s been waiting for this entire time. He rubs your ass with one hand while stroking his cock for a little bit with the other, bringing the tip to the entrance of your slit and teasing your hole. His dick slipping in between your wet folds is driving you insane, making you want to just slide it in already.

“C’mon Koo, fuck me alreadyyy.” You were practically begging for him to stuff you at this point, wiggling your ass against him, wanting nothing more than to be filled up by him and only him.

“Alright babe damn, always so eager for me,” he groans as he starts pushing his cock inside of you now.

A broken moan escapes from your lips as you’re feeling him slowly opening you up, your tightness already adjusting to his girth. He began fucking you from behind at a rough pace, giving you exactly what you needed the most. Jungkook grabs your neck once again and brings your back towards his chest, saying all types of dirty, sinful things in your ear while he relentlessly fucks you, slamming his cock in and out of you making you go delirious. Practically shoving his hard length into you, you couldn’t help but scream out in pure ecstasy. His cock felt was the best thing on earth and the more he slammed into you the more you didn’t want it to ever be over.

He was so big you could feel his cock in your stomach, all your insides were being rearranged by him. Your ass was jiggling on his cock so nicely, giving him an absolutely stunning view. Firmly settling your face back into the pillows again, while looking down at your ass he grabs your waist firmly with one hand, the other being on your right butt cheek which was severely bruised from him spanking you earlier. You were so beyond soaking wet that the only noises filling up the room were the gushy sounds of your wetness and the ceaseless thrusts of Jungkook’s cock going deeper in you than ever before.

“Just wanna fill up your tight pussy with all my cum…” Jungkook coos, sounding so pussydrunk from all the pleasure he’s feeling right now. “Show me how desperately you want my cum inside you,” he keeps going, urging you to give him more of a reaction, probably since you’re both on camera.

“Mmm… yes daddy, need you to fill me up and make your cumslut pleasee,” you beg for him to continue fucking you, bouncing back on his cock and making him growl. You wanted him to feel like he was on top of the world, like you were a drug and the only cure for his addiction was your pussy. He keeps thrusting into you erratically, his strokes getting messier and sloppier as he soon reaches his climax.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuckk—“ Jungkook belts out a string of curses as he fucks your tight cunt, “m’gonna fucking cum babe… so close..” he grips onto your waist tighter, indefinitely picking up his pace as he starts to see flashes of white invade his vision. He was fucking into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t think or speak coherently anymore, just saying random words and babbling the entire time.

“Jungkook I love you, I love you so much..” was all you were able to say, to which he replies with “I love you more” and continues fucking you from behind like the rent is due. Your eyes were permanently at the back of your head as you were absorbed in the utmost pleasure. Jungkook’s hand reaches over to rub your clit as he proceeds to hit all the right spots inside you, his cock felt so good, everything just feels otherworldly to you right now.

“Ah! Cumming babe, gonna cum—“ Jungkook lets out the deepest groan as he shoots his load inside your warmth, “Oh my god, fuck yes…” he felt like he was on cloud nine, thrusting into you with slowed movements while coating your walls with his thick hot cum. You contract around him, soon reaching your climax right after him, both of your releases mixing together inside of you.

Once he pulls out, you were bodies intertwined with one another again, forgetting all about the camera that was still rolling. You aggressively kiss him, tongues mingling together as if you’re trying to swallow each other’s existence. You took a glance at the camera, checking the time on the screen to see that it’s been going on for almost an hour and thirty minutes now… Jungkook pulls away, noticing you looking at the camera, leaving for a quick second to finally turn it off. He faces back in your direction and presents you with the warmest smile, looking down at your thighs and eyeing the creamy mess that’s dripped down between your legs.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up huh darling?” Jungkook cutely offers, gently kissing your cheek. His big boba ball eyes were staring right into your soul with nothing but admiration and love for you. The duality of his actions were almost surreal, he just fucked you like the devil reincarnated but then acts like the sweetest angel once it’s all over. You’ve always adored that special quality about your boyfriend.

[pathologicalreid]

sunday morning | S.R.

in which spencer comes home from a case and shows you how much he missed you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex, very soft, mention of contraception (please practice safe sex), established relationship, fingering, explicit consent (consent is sexy), creampie, (i don't know what else i need to put here I've never posted smut on tumblr) word count: 1.44k a/n: this is my 69th post on this blog and i have the sense of humor of a fourteen year old boy. also i feel like this is not very good but i am hypercritical of myself. have not written smut in years. Bear With Me.

Sighing, you rolled over in bed just to be met with sunlight. Beams of light peeked through the closed blinds of your bedroom, causing you to reach up and rub your eyes. Propping yourself up, a smile crept on your face when you noticed your boyfriend beside you.

He wasn’t there last night when you went to sleep, so the BAU must’ve returned sometime in the middle of the night. He looked so peaceful, gently lit by the sun. A single curl had fallen in front of his face in his sleep, moving gently as he slept.

Unable to help yourself, you moved closer to him and tucked the loose hair behind his ear. Freezing when he stirred, you slowly rested your head down on his shoulder and let your body melt into his.

“Good morning,” Spencer whispered, his voice was deep and a little warbly. The way it usually was in the morning.

Lifting your head and smiling softly, you rested your chin on his chest, “I was trying not to wake you.” You lifted your arm and cupped his cheek with your hand, “When did you get in last night?”

He hummed in response, “We landed at one.”

A quick glance at your alarm clock told you that it was just past eight. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” You sat up in bed, “I can go make breakfast.”

You moved to climb out of bed, but Spencer pulled you back down to the mattress. “Not just yet,” he whispered, moving you so that you were straddling his hips. “I missed you,” he murmured, resting both of his hands on your waist.

“I know, I missed you too,” you whispered, trailing your fingers over the exposed sliver of skin between his t-shirt and boxers, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Moving his hands ever so slightly, Spencer reached underneath your t-shirt and put his hands on your bare skin, “I really, really missed you.”

Leaning forward, you put both of your hands on either side of his head, “Oh,” you breathed. “Did you want to show me how much you missed me?”

He didn’t answer, instead, he wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging you down until your bodies were flush with each other. This gave him the leverage that he needed to flip the two of you over, leaving his body placed neatly in between your legs.

You reached down and pulled at the fabric of Spencer’s t-shirt, letting him take the hint before he pulled his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands on his soft, warm skin. Threading your fingers through his hair, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Desperate for friction, you lifted your hips slightly off of the bed only for them to be pushed back down by his. Through your remaining clothes, you felt his hard cock pressing against your core. The sensation elicited a small noise from the back of your throat, causing Spencer to pull away from you slightly, “Needy girl,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on the nickname while Spencer was pulling your shirt off. He wasted no time between taking off your shirt and attaching his lips to your neck. At first, they were light kisses, but they quickly evolved into slower kisses along the hollow of your throat.

He took his time making his way to your chest before he enveloped your nipple in his mouth, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to massage your other breast. You moaned breathily under his touch, “You’re so good at that.”

Spencer hummed against your chest, sending vibrations down to your core. He detached his lips from your chest with a pop and looked at you with lust-glazed eyes. Leaning back, he hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of your pants, tugging your shorts and underwear off and gently guiding your legs through the cloth before discarding it on the floor.

Sitting up slightly, you reached out for him, bringing him closer to you before you slipped your hand inside his boxers. He hissed slightly at the contact, causing you to hesitate, “Are you okay?” You whispered, withdrawing your hand from his cock, and instead placing both of your hands on his shoulders.

 He nodded, “I’m okay. It’s just been a while, and I don’t want to finish too fast.”

You tilted your head to the side, “What do you want?” You offered, letting him take control of the situation.

“I want you to come on my fingers,” he told you, slowly dragging his hand down your side before letting it linger on your hip, using his thumb to rub circles on your hip bone.

Meeting his gaze, you nodded, “Okay,” you breathed as your heart pounded in anticipation.

You adjusted your hips slightly as he cupped your pussy with his hand, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely touched you, baby.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before his finger slowly entered you. Spencer was playing now, moving his hand at a torturously slow pace as he watched your every reaction. “Spence,” you whispered, reaching out for him.

You clenched around his finger, and he readjusted so that he was laying his head on your stomach like he was listening to what it sounded like inside of you while he fingered you. Weaving your hands in his hair, your lips parted as he slipped a second finger in.

With the position he had in between your legs, your range of motion was severely limited, forcing you to just feel. When his pace quickened, so did your breaths.

Gently, he placed his thumb over your clit and started rubbing in small, tantalizing circles. You tugged slightly at his hair, causing him to curl his fingers inside of you, “please,” you whimpered, beginning to feel the orgasm building in your core. “Please, just like that,” you said breathily.

He looked up at you then, never changing his pace, “Come for me, baby.”

At his words, your orgasm washed over you. Spencer’s fingers worked you through the pulses as small whines escaped your lips. You sighed and closed your eyes when he moved his hand, leaving you aching and wanting more.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” he whispered, “so, so pretty.” Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at him, he had already shed his boxers, “Do you need a second?”

Shaking your head, you peered up at him through your lashes, “I’m ready,” you whispered, crossing your arms at the back of his neck. It had been just over a week since the last time you’d had sex, but as he pushed into you, you were grateful for the foreplay.

His breath hitched as he bottomed out, “god, I missed this.”

That was all the encouragement you needed to lean up and press your lips to his, using your tongue to coax his mouth open as you wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close to you as he started moving in you. “You feel so good,” you encouraged him as he began to pick up his pace, lewd sounds filling the room.

Your walls clenched around him, causing his pace to falter ever so slightly. “Fuck, I won’t last if you do that,” he told you, reaching down to where your bodies met and playing with your sensitive clit again.

“Then come in me,” you whispered, you were diligent with your birth control, so that wasn’t something you were concerned about.

Once his head dropped into the crook of your neck, you knew he was a goner, slamming his hips into yours one last time. The sensation of his warm cum filling you finally pushed you off the edge, milking his cock for everything it had.

As the both of you came down, Spencer littered light kisses on your neck, causing you to sigh with contentment. Slowly, he pulled out of you, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering at the loss of contact.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. “I can clean myself up, you know,” you whispered.

“I know, but I like taking care of you,” he answered.

Smiling softly, you smoothed his hair back, “I love you,” you told him before getting off the bed.

“I love you too. Where are you going?” He asked, watching you get up, his eyes following you attentively.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face him, “Shower, are you coming?”

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[pedgito]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | A poor damsel in distress, saved by the most unlikely of man.

author's note | this was written for @studioghibelli's beautiful fic challenge. i've never written anything this close to a royal-ish type era, if you could even call it that. but this is just a slight dip into that realm and it was super fun! thank you for hosting this, bell! idk if any of this is accurate i'm just vibing dsjhk

content warning | 18+ smut, princess!reader, mentioned to have hair long enough to be tied back, regency au, age gap, wealth/power dynamic, mentions of past marriage/death, BREEDING KINK, talks of marriage and pregnancy, secret relationship, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v

word count —1.8k

“If he catches us, we’ll both be dead.”

It was a constant mantra Joel spoke to you, even as he unfastened your corset and slipped under the thick fabric of your dress, disappearing as he fit his face between your thighs.

It started out of innocence—a strange man with growing, constant visits to your manor at the edge of town. At first it was only on official business, a supplier of goods to your father. Joel was a jack of all trades: armor, leatherwork, anything you could think of, he’d mastered it. It was just another method of proof on how good he was with his hands.

“You need not worry,” You breath, pressed against the wall of his cobblestone home, often sneaking out in the middle of night with the possible threat of capture prevalent in your mind.

The estate had always been heavily guarded, but living there your entire life had made it easier to learn patterns, behaviors, and sneaking out to see him over time had become effortless. It had been months by now—and even as his friendship with your father grew, there were no signs, not an ounce of suspicion of what he blossomed between you both.

“He offered me a job,” Joel speaks lowly, muffled under the fabric of your dress as your leg hooks over his shoulder, fingers wrapped around the top of your bodice as you squeeze, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he licks through the center of your cunt, “well paying, convenient enough.”

You gasp softly, lifting at your skirt to get your hands on him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling, earning a soft grunt as he peeks up at you, pulling away for a brief moment.

“What was it?”

“Royal guard—and no princess, not for him.”

“As if I don’t already have enough men guarding me,” You sigh, pushing him away and adjusting your dress—he looks slightly dejected, but stands and fixes your dress, caressing your cheek with his hand, “you cannot say yes, Joel. If you are near—”

“I know,” He murmurs, there’s a shift in his dialect that is so distinctly different from your own—years of being taught to speak up, out, to project with your voice and always act as if you were speaking to the masses, thoughtful contrition to a group much lower than yourself, “bein’ around you that often, don’t know how I could keep my hands off of you.”

If your father knew about this—you and him, a man nearly the age of your own father. He’d be ordered to death and you, while the fate may be different, wouldn’t be left with much freedom either. You were long of age, but bound to your duties as a princess and fearful of the man your father would eventually decide to marry you off to. Joel had saved you, distracted you from all of it. It would be impossible to live without him now.

“I sound ungrateful,” You grumble, looking down and grasping his other hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to your chest but not before you press a gentle kiss against the back of his palm, “for what I have—but if I lose you…”

That place was a prison and you knew it. He knew it.

“A golden cage is still a cage,” Joel reminds you, “—that place, your father—”

You already knew—your father was slowly spiraling out of control, the rule of his country slipping from his grasp and he was scrambling and you knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight. But, you were tired. So tired. With the absence of your mother, your other siblings, you felt trapped.

“Take me away,” You beg, eyes watering as the words slipped from your lips, “we can disappear—I do not need this wealth or title, any of it. Only you.”

“He won’t stop,” Joel tells you honestly, “we would always be running.”

You pull your hand free of his grasp and curve them around his face, cradling the softness of his jaw, the scratch of his facial hair under your fingertips and he licks at his bottom lip, a tell-tale sign of the burgeoning lust. He needed you.

“Is that really what you want?”

He means it—it was a tone you’ve never heard before.

And something tells you he’s been feeling the same way for a while.

“Yes,” You answer quickly, nodding jerkily as you pull him close and Joel has to physically restrain himself from taking you there, licking his lips once more as they hover near your own, “please, Joel.”

“Let’s have this night,” Joel tells you softly, “and we can figure everything out come morning.”

—

It was peaceful here, a small cottage out in the middle of nowhere—if you wanted to stay here you could, but you knew that would be the first place your father would look outside of town.

Joel, his confidante, his most trusted man who was now under you, fingers digging into your thigh as you took his cock inside of you, his hand guiding at the base as he breathed out into the quiet room, the low crackle of the fire at his bedside.

“If you could see yourself,” Joel says absently, watching as you pull the tightly woven ribbon from your hair, breasts stretching up with the movement until it fell from its intricately laced cage, bouncing lightly with your playful movement, a smile peeking from your lips, “such a vision, princess.”

“I am no princess,” You argue gently, palms pressing into his chest as you lift your hips, leisurely and slow, enjoying the tight pull of his brow every time your ass meets his hips, “I was not made for that life, Joel.”

“Made for me,” He assures, his warm tone spreading throughout your core and pulling you in, the hands place on your thighs moving up your hips, squeezing into the flesh of your waist as his mouth drops open, silently urging you to change your pace, “perfectly crafted, all I’ve ever needed.”

You snort softly at his words—he was always a poet, whether stumbling through his words or bringing you to your knees with a compliment that would be on your mind for days, echoing in your head as you dipped your fingers inside of you on the days you went without him.

“Would you marry me?” You ask suddenly, though you feel the answer before he says it.

“Without hesitation,” He responds, “I can propose—right now, if you want.”

“Such a romantic,” You chide, the words falling on a gasp as he flips you both suddenly, shoving you into the old mattress as the bed creaks with the weight and intensity of his thrusts, the rest of your words caught in your throat as he pulls your legs up and over his back, hands resting firmly beside your head, a true vision himself.

“If it would make you happy, I would,” He admits, “all I care about is having you, being with you—titles, all of that, it doesn’t mean much to me but if that is something that would make you happy—”

“What do—” Joel switches his position suddenly, an arm tucking under your leg as he pulls it over his shoulder and leans up to meet your cunt with his thrust, watching his cock as you swallowed him up, his hand falling over the base of your pelvis and pressing down, feeding into the pressure of his cock and the all-consuming feeling of him, “christ—what is it—that you want?”

“You,” He answers immediately, “and…”

He pauses, thinking carefully on his words.

You know little of his past other than his wife and daughter who had fallen ill, losing them when he had been away on business, unbeknownst and coming home to the sight of it. He was a broken, brittle man and you were the only thing holding him together.

“I would give you a son,” You tell him, “a daughter—as many kids as you wished, Joel. Is that what you want?”

“A family,” He smiles fondly, “with you?”

“I fear you would—oh—never escape me then,” You joke playfully, eyes squeezing shut as he snaps forward roughly, his thumb dragging over your clit fleetingly as your hands dig and twist in the bedsheets, “what a handful I would have with a small version of you.”

He chuckles softly, snaking his hand under your waist and pulling at your arm until you get the idea to wrap them around his neck, adjusting you up and into his lap, carefully examining his face under the soft glow of the fire, his lip quivering as you drag your thumb over his mouth.

“I want it,” You plead, “don’t—don’t pull away.”

“You’ve given me so much,” He mumbles into your cheek as you pull him closer, hugging him to your chest as he wraps himself around you, grunting as he reached closer and closer to his own end, “and you've been trapped your entire life, I don’t want you to feel that way with me.”

“And I would give you so much more,” You breath into his mouth, “picture it—barefoot, pregnant with your child in a home far away from here, our new life—”

“Baby,” He begs, his fingertips squeezing roughly into your flesh and you gasp, your cunt pulsing around him with the roughness of his movements, pussy throbbing at his fervent intensity at your words, “I love you.”

You nod, tucking his face into your neck as he hands slips between your bodies, dragging over your clit without you needing to ask, knowing he was just that in tune with your bodily cues, the hitch in your voice as you echo the words back to him.

“Come inside of me,” It wasn’t an order, more of a plea, but you mean it, “I want to be yours.”

Forever, you think. But, the words are cut off by a sharp, jerky snap of Joel’s hips as he comes inside of you, his teeth dragging over your shoulder as he groans into your skin, simultaneously working his thumb over your sensitive clit, feeling your clench and spasms around him as you come with a soft sigh, fingers twisting into his hair and your body curling around him like a python, squeezing him so tight it knocks the air out of him.

“Do you have everything you need?” Joel asks after a few minutes, gentle touches over your skin, pulling his face back to look at you. “Before we leave at sunrise?”

“I have you,” You assure him, “that is all I need.”

[novaursa]

Where Dragons Dare (2/3)

- Summary: After your declaration to marry Alicent in the small council meeting, the day of the wedding finally comes. And so does your first wedding night.

- Paring: male!targ reader/Alicent Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin brother of Rhaenyra and is bonded with a dragon. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: This was requested by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️ Battle of the Stepstones is add as a bonus, because I love writing dragon battles. The last part will be posted later tomorrow once it is done.

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: 3

The grand hall of the Red Keep is awash with the glow of thousands of candles. The flames dance across golden tapestries depicting the histories of Old Valyria, but today the storied past pales in comparison to the momentous occasion unfolding before all in attendance. The wedding is one spoken of in whispers and rumors, but now it blooms before the gathered lords and ladies with all the splendor and gravitas worthy of House Targaryen. 

You stand at the altar draped in black and red, the rich silk of your doublet catching the light in subtle ways. The fine Valyrian embroidery at the hems speaks of dragons in flight, each thread imbued with dark crimson that shimmers like fresh blood. A black cloak, edged in deep scarlet, flows from your shoulders, fastened at your throat with a clasp shaped like a coiled dragon. Your hair, the silvery-white of pure Valyrian descent, is tied back, letting your angular features and sharp violet eyes take in every gaze, every emotion displayed openly or hidden away. At your side hangs Blackfyre—your birthright as Prince of Dragonstone—its pommel set with a ruby that gleams like a beating heart.

Before you, Alicent Hightower stands radiant in a gown of deep emerald green. The dress, fitted perfectly to her frame, billows out in layers of silk and fine lace, each shimmering with golden accents as she moves. A delicate crown of silver leaves and pearls rests atop her auburn hair, carefully arranged in elegant curls. Her eyes, a brilliant shade of brown, reflect a mixture of pride, joy, and the quiet steel she’s honed under the pressures of courtly life. There is a softness in her gaze, however, reserved only for you as her eyes meet yours—a silent understanding, a shared relief, and a promise of what is to come.

The Septon's voice rings out, leading the words of the traditional vows. Beside you, Rhaenyra is practically glowing with excitement. Her smile is unrestrained, her eyes darting between you and Alicent with genuine happiness, a sister’s joy at seeing her twin brother embrace his own fate. She wears a gown of pale red, adorned with the colors of House Targaryen and a crown of silver atop her flowing locks, her presence radiating confidence as the heir’s sister and a firm ally to your cause. 

King Viserys is seated in a place of honor, his face full of warmth and pride. His smile is wide as he watches his only son wed the woman who has become a daughter to him over the years. He has the contented look of a father who finally sees his children happy, a rare expression in a court filled with ambition and schemes. He lifts his cup in a subtle toast to you and Alicent, his eyes misting over slightly with emotion.

Daemon Targaryen, your uncle, stands near the rear of the gathered nobles, his silver hair catching the light as he observes the ceremony. His expression is inscrutable, but those who know him well enough can see the slight curve at the edge of his lips, the way his gaze sharpens whenever it falls upon you. For all his unpredictability, there is a flicker of pride there—a satisfaction, perhaps, that you finally asserted yourself against the forces that sought to control you. Daemon has always favored those who carve their own path, and today you have done just that.

As the ceremony draws to a close, you step forward to place a cloak upon Alicent’s shoulders, the symbol of House Targaryen enveloping her as you claim her as your own. The green of House Hightower blends now with the red and black of the dragon, a union that cements alliances but more importantly binds two hearts that have long yearned for this day. When you lean in to kiss her, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way her lips meet yours, and the hall erupts in applause, though the world shrinks to just the two of you in that fleeting moment.

As the applause dies down, Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, watches with a carefully controlled expression. His eyes flicker between you and Alicent, a mixture of satisfaction and unease buried beneath his calm demeanor. Though this is a victory for him in securing his daughter’s position, there’s a tension in his jaw—he had hoped to control this outcome more closely, but you’ve slipped from his grasp, a dragon untamed. He studies you with the gaze of a man who sees both a rival and a dangerous ally.

At the feast, Rhaenyra approaches you first, practically throwing herself into your arms. "You did it, Y/N! I knew you would," she beams, her joy infectious. "Alicent looks so beautiful, and you—you were magnificent. I’ve never seen the council so speechless!" Her eyes sparkle with mischief. "And Uncle Daemon, I think he’s actually proud of you for once."

You chuckle, wrapping an arm around your sister. “He probably is. But I didn’t do this for him or the council. This was always for her.” Your gaze drifts back to Alicent, who’s engaged in conversation with a group of highborn ladies, her laughter soft and genuine.

Viserys claps a hand on your shoulder. "You’ve brought honor to our house, Y/N. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. Your mother would be so proud, too." His voice carries a slight tremor as he mentions Queen Aemma, but it is quickly overshadowed by his joy.

You offer him a warm smile. "Thank you, father. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that this union strengthens our house."

Daemon is the next to approach, a goblet in hand and that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I didn’t think you had it in you, nephew," he says, voice laced with amusement. "I was beginning to think you’d let others chart your course forever. But you’ve surprised us all, haven’t you?"

You meet his gaze squarely, your own smile more restrained but no less confident. "Some paths are worth fighting for, uncle. Even if they’re not what others expect."

Daemon raises his cup in a mock salute. “Spoken like a true Targaryen. Perhaps there’s more fire in you than I thought.”

The feast carries on with music, laughter, and the clinking of cups. You and Alicent share dances with the lords and ladies of the realm, but every now and then, your eyes find each other’s, and the world falls away again, leaving just the two of you in this sea of people.

When you finally manage to steal a private moment with her in a quiet corner of the hall, she takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “I was so afraid,” she admits in a hushed voice, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Afraid that we’d never be able to reach this moment. But here we are.”

You brush a strand of hair from her face, letting your hand linger against her cheek. “You’re mine now, Alicent. I’ll fight for you, for us, against anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

A flicker of relief passes through her expression, followed by a warmth that softens her usually reserved emotions. “And I’ll stand by you, no matter the storm we face.”

The words hang between you like an unspoken vow—one more binding than anything recited before the Septon. 

The night deepens as the feast continues, a blur of music and the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the ornate dishes piled with food. Laughter and the sound of clinking goblets fill the Great Hall. You and Alicent sit side by side at the high table, your hands occasionally brushing against each other beneath the table. The touch is small, but each time it happens, there’s a comforting warmth, a silent reassurance between the two of you. Alicent’s soft smile, reserved just for you, never quite fades from her lips.

As you’re enjoying a brief moment of quiet conversation, the sound of footsteps approaches. Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, strides up, his eyes bright with joy. "Sister! Y/N!" he greets, his voice tinged with the exuberance of youth. His resemblance to Alicent is striking, though his features are more angular, his posture that of a man eager to prove himself. "I couldn’t let the night end without offering my congratulations." He gives you a hearty clap on the shoulder, his grin broad. "It’s about time someone put a spark in this old court! You’ve done well, my friend. I’ve known you since we were boys, and I’ve always believed you’d find your way."

You return his grin, reaching out to clasp his forearm in the familiar gesture of comrades. "Gwayne, your support has never gone unnoticed. I’ve always valued your friendship, even when we got ourselves into trouble as children. But I think this time, we’ve both stepped into something greater than mischief.”

Gwayne chuckles. “You certainly have, Y/N. And Alicent—” He turns to his sister, his tone softening with genuine affection. “I’ve never seen you look happier. I’m glad you’ve found this happiness, even if I’ll be the one who has to keep a closer eye on courtly matters with you from now on.”

Alicent smiles warmly at her brother, her hand gently resting over yours atop the table. “Thank you, Gwayne. Your words mean more to me than you know. And don’t worry, we’ll both make sure to keep you busy in your duties, though perhaps with fewer pranks than when we were children.”

The three of you share a laugh, the ease of old friendships and sibling bonds lightening the mood.

Soon after, the familiar figures of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys approach. The Sea Snake is every bit the powerful figure one expects, his deep blue doublet adorned with intricate silver embroidery resembling the waves of the sea. Rhaenys is resplendent in crimson and gold, her presence commanding yet warm. There’s a certain wisdom in her gaze as she looks between you and Alicent, as if she sees beyond what most do.

“Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent,” Corlys begins, his voice deep and steady. “Congratulations are in order. The union of Targaryen and Hightower is a strategic move, and one I hope will bring stability to the realm. But more than that, it’s clear to see the bond you share.” His eyes linger on you, a hint of approval in his expression. “And perhaps this is the start of a new chapter where the young find their own path amidst the expectations of the old.”

Princess Rhaenys nods, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “It is good to see love and strength walk hand in hand. The history of our houses has often been marked by conflict, but this—” she gestures subtly between you and Alicent, “—this has the potential to change much. You both carry the future on your shoulders now.”

You bow your head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys. Your wisdom is always welcome. I hope to earn that respect in time and prove that this union is more than just a political move.”

Rhaenys’ eyes glint with something sharp and approving. “Oh, I believe you will, Y/N. The blood of Old Valyria runs deep, and you’ve shown you’re willing to chart your own course. I, for one, look forward to seeing what comes next.”

As they step away, Lord Tyland Lannister, clad in rich reds and golds, approaches next. His sharp features and keen eyes give away his nature as a man ever mindful of the shifting tides of power. “Prince Y/N, Lady Alicent, it is a joyous day indeed.” His voice is smooth, practiced, yet there’s an undercurrent of genuine intent behind his words. “House Lannister is ever eager to lend its support to the Targaryen line. May your union be fruitful and prosperous. It seems the dragons have found a way to blend strength with the grace of the Reach.”

You nod, ever cautious with Tyland’s honeyed words. “Thank you, Lord Tyland. Your support will be remembered, and I hope our alliance will benefit all corners of the realm.”

He offers a slight bow before moving off, ever mindful of where the winds blow.

The feast begins to wind down, and as tradition demands, there is the looming expectation of the bedding ceremony. The air in the hall thickens with the anticipation of it. Some lords and ladies begin to gather, murmuring and glancing toward you and Alicent with barely hidden excitement. The tension, the ribald jokes, the whispers—it all threatens to reduce the sanctity of this moment to a spectacle.

Before anyone can make a move to initiate it, you rise to your feet, the air of command in your posture silencing the crowd before the teasing can begin. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” you declare, your voice clear and firm, leaving no room for argument. The hall quiets instantly, the murmur of protests caught in the throats of those who thought to see the night end in such a manner.

Daemon, standing with arms crossed at the edge of the hall, lets out a low chuckle, his approval evident in the sharp nod he gives you. “Let the young prince make his own choices,” he says, his voice carrying across the room. “There’s enough spectacle in these halls without turning the most sacred of nights into another charade.”

The crowd hesitates, unsure whether to push the matter. But when you meet your father’s gaze, Viserys nods slowly, an expression of both surprise and respect on his face. Otto Hightower, who had been watching with tension in his eyes, finally relaxes, a subtle sigh escaping him. His face settles into an expression that resembles something close to approval, a rare look from a man who values tradition and order above all.

Alicent looks at you with deep gratitude and admiration, her fingers squeezing yours as she stands. You turn to her, your expression softening as you offer her your arm. “Shall we retire, my lady?” you ask, your voice laced with tenderness.

She dips her head slightly, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Let’s,” she replies, her voice barely more than a whisper as she takes your arm.

Together, you walk down the long aisle toward the doors leading out of the Great Hall, every eye on you both as you leave. There is a certain weight lifted from your shoulders as the doors close behind you, the noise of the hall fading as you enter the quieter, more intimate corridors of the Keep.

As you walk side by side toward your chambers, the echoes of your footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight create an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Neither of you speaks, the silence between you comfortable, filled with the knowledge that this is just the beginning. When you reach the doors to your shared chambers, you pause, turning to face her fully. You lift her hand to your lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles, your eyes never leaving hers.

“No more performances,” you murmur. “This is just us now.”

Alicent’s eyes shine as she steps closer, her other hand rising to rest against your cheek. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you, like this, away from prying eyes.”

With that, you open the door and guide her inside, the world outside forgotten as the heavy oak doors close behind you both, sealing away the courtly intrigue and the expectations of the realm. In this moment, it’s just you and her, bound together by choice, love, and a shared determination to forge your own destiny.

The chamber is bathed in the soft light of the fire, shadows flickering across the stone walls as the door closes behind you both. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable but full with the awareness of what comes next. For all the warmth you share, the affection that’s blossomed over years of quiet moments and unspoken glances, this is new for both of you. The air is tinged with the sweet fragrance of candles, the soft rustle of fabric as you both stand there, suddenly unsure how to proceed.

You turn to face her, meeting Alicent’s gaze. There’s a nervousness in her eyes, a slight quiver in her breath, but beneath it lies trust, and something more—desire, hesitant but real. You step closer, reaching out to take her hands in yours, your thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gentle, soothing motion. “Alicent,” you murmur, your voice softer than usual, tinged with both affection and concern. “Are you sure? If you’re not ready—”

“I am,” she interrupts softly, her voice a tender whisper in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks flush pink, but her eyes never leave yours. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Slowly, you lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss, tender and delicate. Her lips are warm against yours, the kiss a gentle exploration rather than a fervent rush. You both linger in the simplicity of it, letting it ease the tension from your bodies. When you pull back, you see her chest rise and fall as she steadies her breath, her eyes searching yours for reassurance.

Your hand moves to the clasp of her dress, fingers hesitating for a moment before you look at her once more. “May I?” you ask softly.

She nods, her voice catching slightly. “Yes… I want you to.”

With careful fingers, you undo the clasp and let the fabric slip from her shoulders, revealing the pale skin beneath. The dress pools at her feet, and she stands before you in just her shift, delicate and vulnerable. Her eyes flicker down, shyly avoiding your gaze as you take her in. In turn, she reaches out, her hands trembling slightly as she begins to unlace your doublet. There’s an unspoken agreement between you—a mutual understanding that this moment is as much about trust as it is about desire. You help her with the laces, guiding her hands until your clothing is cast aside, leaving you both bare in the warm glow of the fire.

For a long moment, you simply stand there, your breaths mingling, your eyes tracing the curves and lines of each other’s bodies. There’s a sense of curiosity mixed with reverence, your gazes shyly meeting before drifting again, both of you learning and memorizing the sight of each other.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. Alicent’s breath hitches at the word, her eyes shining as she looks up at you, her lips parting as if to say something, but words fail her. Instead, she just reaches out, fingers brushing over your chest, her touch sending a shiver through you.

You gently take her hand and guide her toward the bed, the furs soft beneath your feet as you lead her down onto the mattress. You lay her down with the utmost care, your eyes never leaving hers, searching for any sign of discomfort. Her lips part as she draws in a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but her gaze is steady, trusting.

You lower yourself beside her, your hand caressing her cheek as you lean in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss is deeper, a gradual melding of lips as you both begin to relax into each other. Your hand trails down, brushing against her collarbone, then lower, until it rests just above her breast. You pause, your eyes flicking to hers for permission, and when she nods slightly, you continue, cupping her breast gently, your thumb brushing over the soft skin. A soft gasp escapes her lips, her back arching slightly as you explore her.

“You’re so beautiful, Alicent,” you murmur against her lips, and she responds with a soft sigh, her hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer.

Your kisses begin to wander, trailing down her jawline, to the tender skin of her neck. You feel her pulse quicken under your lips, her breath growing more uneven as you move lower. When your mouth finds her breast, she gasps, her fingers threading through your hair. You take your time, savoring each reaction, each soft sound she makes as your lips and tongue explore her.

As you move lower, her breath catches, her fingers tightening in your hair when you kiss the curve of her hip. You glance up at her, seeing the mixture of nerves and anticipation in her eyes. She’s never experienced anything like this, and neither have you—not truly. But you remember the lessons Daemon half-teased, half-instructed you on during that one visit to the brothel, showing you the ways of pleasure in a more practical, if unconventional, manner. While you hadn’t partaken that night, you watched, curious, and the knowledge lingers now, guiding your movements.

You press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and she lets out a soft whimper, her fingers clutching at the furs beneath her. You murmur a line from an old Valyrian poem, the words ancient and filled with meaning, letting the sounds roll off your tongue as your kisses grow more intimate. “Gevives isse tolvie jelevre—beauty in every breath,” you whisper, your breath warm against her skin.

When your mouth finally finds her core, she gasps, her body tensing for a moment before she melts into the sensation, her hips shifting instinctively toward you. Her breath comes in shallow bursts, her hand gripping your shoulder as you apply what you’ve learned, taking your time, listening to the way her body responds. When she lets out a soft moan, her voice trembling with pleasure, you smile against her, murmuring another line from the poem—words of love and devotion that have been passed down through generations.

Slowly, you trail your kisses back up her body, feeling her trembling beneath you. Her hands reach for you, pulling you close, and when your lips find hers again, the kiss is hungry, filled with the taste of her desire and the passion that’s been building between you both.

You position yourself above her, your eyes locked on hers as you ask one last time, “Are you sure, Alicent?”

Her response is a breathless nod, her hand cupping your cheek as she whispers, “I want this. I want you.”

You enter her gently, inch by inch, mindful of her innocence, watching her every expression for any sign of pain. She winces slightly at first, her brow furrowing, but her fingers dig into your back, holding you close as she adjusts. When she finally opens her eyes again, there’s no hesitation, only trust. “Move,” she breathes, her voice barely audible, but full of need.

You start slowly, each movement careful, deliberate, letting her body adjust, her warmth enveloping you. Her breaths come out in soft, quick bursts, her nails dragging lightly across your skin as she holds on to you. The tension in her body gradually gives way to something else, her hips meeting yours in a rhythm that’s both instinctive and hesitant.

As the moments pass, the awkwardness gives way to a deeper connection. The tenderness remains, but passion begins to take root. Alicent’s breath hitches when she wraps her legs around your waist, her hands pulling you closer. You respond to her need, moving with more urgency as she finds her own rhythm, her body moving against yours in a dance that’s both new and timeless.

When she pushes herself up, shifting into your lap, there’s a sudden surge of boldness in her gaze, something wild and free. You guide her movements, your hands steadying her as she takes control, her breathless gasps mingling with your own. The intimacy between you grows not just in the physical connection but in the way you respond to each other’s needs, desires, and unspoken fears. It’s a union forged in trust, love, and the desire to explore the depths of what you share.

Eventually, when the night reaches its quiet peak, you collapse together into the furs, breathless and spent, your limbs entangled as you hold her close. Here, in this moment, there’s only the warmth of her skin against yours, the sound of her steadying breaths, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning of your shared life together.

As sleep slowly claims you both, you press a final kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of love in Valyrian, promising her with every breath that this night is just the start of what you’ll build together.

The sky is a bruised shade of twilight, thick with smoke and ash. The stench of blood, sweat, and salt fills the air as the waves crash against the jagged rocks of the Stepstones. This place is a wasteland—a battlefield stained with the bodies of the dead and dying. For over two years, the Crabfeeder’s men have held these islands, turning them into a butcher’s yard. But today, you intend to end it. Today, the dragons return in fire and fury.

You sit atop Dallax, your black-scaled beast, perched on a ridge overlooking the main encampment of the Triarchy’s forces. His green eyes gleam in the dim light, and his body shifts restlessly beneath you, eager to unleash his wrath. His teeth, hidden within the dark flesh of his jaws, retract only when his rage is stoked—a menace lying in wait. You run a gloved hand along his neck, feeling the raw power coiled within him. “Soon,” you whisper, your voice firm yet laced with anticipation. “We will end this.”

Below, Daemon Targaryen plays his part to perfection. Clad in soot-streaked armor, a white banner clutched in one hand, he approaches the enemy lines. The Crabfeeder’s forces, a mix of hardened sellswords and conscripts, watch from behind their sharpened stakes and crude fortifications, unsure whether this is truly surrender or another of Daemon’s ruses. The Prince of the City moves with a calculated slowness, his steps deliberate, his head lowered just enough to give the impression of defeat. But you know him better. There’s a fire in his eyes—a fury barely contained behind that facade of submission. The plan hinges on this moment, on the Crabfeeder’s arrogance and greed.

From your vantage point, you spot Lord Corlys Velaryon’s forces hidden in the shallows, ready to pounce the moment the trap is sprung. The Sea Snake commands his men with a veteran’s precision, their silence a stark contrast to the braying jeers coming from the Crabfeeder’s ranks.

Daemon finally stops, mere feet from the Crabfeeder’s line, where a grotesque figure emerges from the shadows. Drahar, the Crabfeeder, is a ghastly sight, his face hidden behind a cracked and twisted mask, his skin mottled from disease. He raises a hand, halting the jeers, and for a moment, silence reigns.

Then, chaos erupts.

Daemon’s false surrender is cast aside as he draws Dark Sister in a blur of Valyrian steel, cutting through the nearest soldier in one swift, practiced motion. Blood sprays into the air, catching the dim light as the battlefield roars back to life. The Triarchy’s soldiers charge forward, desperate to claim the prize they believe within reach, but they are rushing headlong into a trap.

It’s your moment.

With a word in Valyrian, you urge Dallax into a dive. His wings unfurl, dark as midnight, blotting out the dying light. The air screams past you as you plummet toward the battlefield, the ground rushing up to meet you. “Dracarys!” you roar, the command slicing through the din of battle.

Dallax responds with a torrent of flame that incinerates everything in its path. The first line of the Crabfeeder’s men is engulfed in a roaring inferno, their screams swallowed by the relentless fire. Armor melts, flesh sizzles, and bone turns to ash in mere moments. You bank sharply, pulling Dallax into another dive, this time focusing on the siege engines positioned along the ridge. The ballistae, meant to keep the dragons at bay, are shattered under the crushing weight of dragonfire and claws. Timber explodes, splinters raining down on the screaming soldiers below as you rip through their defenses with ruthless efficiency.

You catch a glimpse of Daemon, now fully engaged in the melee, his sword a blur of lethal grace as he carves a bloody path through the Triarchy’s forces. He fights with a savage joy, laughing as he dodges and counters, the battlefield his stage. Corlys and his men surge from the shallows, catching the enemy in a brutal pincer. The once-confident soldiers of the Crabfeeder are thrown into disarray, their lines crumbling under the combined might of dragon and steel.

You circle back, eyes locked on Drahar, who attempts to retreat deeper into the labyrinth of stakes and pits his men have constructed. But there’s no escape. You guide Dallax lower, skimming the ground, his claws gouging the earth as you close in on your prey. The Crabfeeder looks up in desperation, his eyes wide behind his mask as he realizes his end is near.

“End him!” Daemon’s voice echoes in your mind like a phantom’s dare, though the words are drowned out by the roar of battle.

Dallax’s jaws snap open, his teeth glinting as they slide out from their hidden sheaths. With a snarl, he lunges, clamping down on Drahar with a sickening crunch. The Crabfeeder’s mask falls away, revealing a twisted visage frozen in terror before his body is torn apart in a spray of blood and gore. Dallax shakes his head, flinging what remains of Drahar’s corpse into the dirt before incinerating it with a final jet of flame.

Around you, the battlefield is a scene of utter carnage. The ground is slick with blood, littered with the hacked remains of soldiers. Men scream, their limbs severed, or burn as they try to flee, only to be cut down by Corlys’s disciplined troops. The cries of the dying are a symphony of suffering, underscored by the relentless roar of flames. Dallax moves among the survivors like a shadow, crushing and burning any who dare to resist.

As the last pockets of resistance are snuffed out, you land amidst the ruins, stepping down from Dallax’s back. You scan the battlefield, taking in the broken fortifications, the piles of charred corpses, and the men who now kneel in surrender. Victory is yours. The Stepstones are won.

Daemon approaches, blood splattered across his armor, a wild grin on his face. “Well done, nephew,” he says, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I thought I might have all the fun, but you’ve stolen quite the show.” His eyes gleam with shared triumph, the bond between you strengthened through battle and bloodshed. “The Crabfeeder will feast no more.”

You smirk, wiping sweat and grime from your brow. “Someone had to keep you from getting killed. I couldn’t let you take all the glory.”

He laughs, the sound cutting through the dying echoes of the battle. “You’re learning. Perhaps there’s more of me in you than anyone cares to admit.”

As Daemon moves to rally the remaining men, your thoughts drift, carried away on the winds of victory. The image of Alicent appears in your mind—her gentle smile, the way her hand rests on the curve of her belly, swollen with the child she carries. You think of your son, Aegon, barely more than a year old, his bright eyes so full of curiosity. It is for them that you fight, for the future you intend to build, for the family you have claimed as your own.

The taste of blood and ash lingers on your tongue, but underneath it all is the yearning to return to them, to hold Alicent in your arms and feel the soft weight of your son as he rests against your chest. You think of how you will recount this victory to them—how Aegon will listen in awe, his little hands reaching out as if to grasp the tales of dragons and battles. You smile to yourself, imagining the way Alicent will scold you softly for the bloodshed, though you know she will be proud all the same.

“Soon,” you murmur to yourself, the words almost lost in the wind. “Soon I’ll be home.”

But for now, the battle is done, and the Stepstones are yours. The fires burn low as you gaze out over the broken landscape, your thoughts with your family, even as your dragon’s shadow stretches long over the conquered land, a reminder of the price of victory.

[xoluvx]

would yu be down to write for needy!sub!billie? she thinks the reader looks amazing in her outfit and can't wait until they get home to get her hands on the reader??

maybe they're at a party?? thank yu sm as well, u fr have one of the best blogs on this app 🙏

uh yessss of course, enjoyyy <33

ily you’re the sweetest

billie held your waist. she leaned her head on your shoulder inhaling your smell. it was intoxicating and she couldn’t get enough. it also didn’t help that you looked so good tonight.

you felt her lips on your neck and looked down at her.

“you look so good,” she whispered in your ear as the noise of the house party increased and your friends rambled.

“thank you baby,” you replied innocently. her arms wrapped tighter around your waist as she whimpered inhaling your perfume again. she was so turned on right now and she had to figure out a way to pull you away.

“i need you,” she bit your ear gently before kissing your neck.

“just wait til we’re home,” you replied patting her arm. everyone was lost in their own conversations and in the music playing. besides it wasn’t out of the ordinary for both you and billie to show PDA.

“please, i need you right now. i’m so-“ she sighed heavily, lips on your ear “-wet.”

you dug your nails into her arm. your heart beating fast. she couldn’t just say that and expect you not to react.

“bathroom,” you whispered looking around. billie smiled eagerly getting up as you held her hand. your bodies shuffled away from the group. nobody giving you a second glance. you disappeared down the hall, bodies stumbling into the bathroom. hands desperately reaching for each other. billie moaned when she felt your lips on hers, your hands gripping her hips pushing your pelvis against her.

“fuck, i need you so bad,” she whined as you pushed her against the bathroom counter.

“please touch me,” she breathed. “fuck me,” she gasped.

you tugged at her belt unbuckling it. she hurried out of them leaning on the counter again as you lifted her leg. she watched you crouch in front of her, her eyes full of lust and desire.

you pushed her underwear to the side, your tongue brushing her wet pussy. she flinched and moaned tossing her head back.

“look at me,” you demanded slapping her pussy. billie choked back a moan and opened her eyes looking down at you. she held the faucet trying to support her wobbling legs. you held her underwear to the side with one hand, the other holding her leg open.

you ran your tongue between her folds again, this time making sure you pressed down on her clit. she stared at you, lips parted and brows raised. you moved your head side to side, your tongue following your movements stimulating her clit. her pussy was throbbing it was almost painful.

“i need you inside,” she huffed grabbing your head. you flicked your tongue rapidly ensuing a string of desperate moans. her pussy wet against your tongue created a holy sound.

“what do you need inside baby?” you feigned innocence, your tongue ghosting her entrance before your lips sucked on her clit. she moaned unable to form words. she stammered and shook still holding your head and the faucet so tightly her knuckles were white.

“fingers, please” she cried closing her eyes tightly feeling the tightness in her pussy.

“not unless you look at me,” you cooed teasing her hole with the tips of your fingers.

billie whimpered opening her eyes. they were tearing up. her chest was moving rapidly. her grip on your head was loosening as you inserted two fingers into her wet entrance.

“yes, yes, yes,” she moved her hips as your fingers increased the pace, knuckle deep. your tongue focused on her clit. fingers fucking her ruthlessly. she held eye contact but was hanging on by a thread.

“hold it,” you threatened stopping your fingers.

“mm, baby please,” she begged moving her hips looking at you with spent eyes. she bit her lip, hand pulling on her underwear. she was melting right on your hand.

“only because i love you,” you whispered sweetly and that only made billie whimper and moan louder and completely lose it. you licked her a few times, fingers moving purposefully and then she was shaking. unraveling on your fingers as the music blasted outside.

[charmercharm3r]

In Phases, imagine that Reader gets fucked so good and so well by both that she falls into sub-space, pretty much like Minho does sometimes. No thoughts, mind blank, half-unconscious and she loses awareness of her surroundings for seconds, body only searching for the high. You know what I mean.

How would that happen and how would the bbies react after bringing her to that point??👀

I'm desesperatly in love with your blog btw❤❤

this, I simply couldn't ignore and had to turn it into a whole drabble

Masterlist, Phases Masterlist

☆ﾟ

Sweaty, tired, numb yet somehow on fire, "moaning like a pornstar," was how Jisung put it.

Except porn is fake. This, this feeling, the way they made you feel is entirely real.

Jisung had his back against the headboard, hands behind his head with his mouth agape while he watched you work yourself into a frenzy in his lap. He could hear the wooden headboard banging agains the wall, could feel your skin rubbing uncomfortably against one another because you'd been going at it for so long, but he didn't care, as long as you didn't either. And you clearly didn't.

Because now you were calling Minho over, who was still trying to catch his breath at the foot of the bed from when you milked him just a few minutes ago. "C'mon now kitty, don't keep our cock hungry princess waiting."

You couldn't stop moving, swiveling forward and back to feel Jisung's tip nudge the soft spot within you, mindlessly beckoning your other boyfriend over because you missed his presence. As if he wasn't in you less than five minutes ago, Minho took your hand like a champ and stood by your side, only to be pulled down into a sloppy kiss by the back of the neck, all the while you didn't slow down.

Your hand glided down his wet chest to find his dick raising again, somehow hardening under your touch. You liked the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, but craved something bigger, heavier.

Minho winced against your lips as you tugged at his cock, "can't- hurts-"

"You can, and you will," Jisung instructed before the other could protest.

All three of you knew Minho could take it, if he truly didn't want to, he would've tried hard to fight it or used the safe word. Instead, Minho kissed you deeper and slightly rutted into your hand before pulling away. He moved to stand on the bed, beside where you and Jisung stayed connected. As soon as he was close enough, you reached to take his cock in your mouth, barely trying to suck.

Jisung had the biggest shit-eating smirk on his face, enthralled by the sight before him. Minho held onto the headboard for balance, the feeling of your warm mouth already making him want to crumble from overstimulation. He was already amazed by how much you were still able to take, thinking in the back of his mind that he needed to do more cardio to catch up to you.

The weight of one dick on your tongue, the other filling you so nicely, you didn't think it could get any better-

Correction; you didn't think. You couldn't think.

Every thought in your head drifted away the second your first orgasm passed, you didn't even know what number you were on now. Maybe Jisung knew- you'll find out eventually.

But his hand was wrapping around your throat now, squeezing softly and feeling the air supply slowly dwindling little by little. Slack jawed, Minho took advantage and threaded his fingers in your hair to rut in quick jabs, the drool dripping down your chin and onto Jisung's hand.

Your thighs burned, trying so hard to maintain a rhythm and failing. Jisung could tell, to Minho it was obvious, they were both just proud you were still going. In an attempt to get him to squeeze harder, you placed your hand around Jisung's. Instead of constricting, he lifted you up by the neck to get you to sit high on your knees.

Even with a mouth full of cock, you couldn't contain your moans. The vibrations of your whining made Minho squirm and rut faster, sloppier. Elevated in more ways than just in his lap, Jisung pulled out to the tip only to slam back into you, thrusting from below at a more than leisure pace. His thumb found its way to your clit, rubbing harshly back and forth perfectly to make you grab at Minho's thigh and harder at Jisung's hand around your neck.

Your eyes rolled back, taking Minho in his full stride and the pummeling you were receiving from below. All senses flushed stupid, feeling nothing and everything all at once and in fact, moaning like a pornstar.

It was so good to the point you didn't realize you'd stopped breathing even when Jisung loosened his grip on your windpipe. You were suddenly being lowered into someone's arms and placed with your head against their chest. It felt as though you had just woken up from a deep slumber, but was sweaty and smelled like bodies on bodies.

"Baby, hey hey, come back to us," Jisung cooed sweetly, brushing away the matted hair on your forehead.

Another set of hands was caressing your back, cooled off by a damp towel being wiped up and down the exposed skin.

Your eyes fluttered open, seeing Minho's big browns glossy with concern, "there she is."

"Hm..?" The dryness of your throat hurt a little, as did the joints in your jaw.

Jisung carefully laid you on your back with your head at the foot of the bed. You could hear him distantly chuckle about the pillows being too icky to lay on.

Towering over you, Minho used the same hand cloth to wipe your face, down your neck and body. He gently kissed your belly as he continued to traverse your lower half and legs. Drowsily looking around the room, you almost rolled your eyes behind your head to find Jisung, who popped in upside down into your field of vision.

"You okay, sweetheart? You blacked out on us," before you could answer, he Spiderman kissed you chastely.

"Dicks too good, apparently." Minho and Jisung high fived each other over your limp body.

"Thirsty," you groaned, trying to regain moisture back into your mouth.

"Yeah, you were. I swear my dick was about to fall off." The older chuckled as he sauntered off to the bathroom for a moment once you were clean. Jisung took his place and sat you up to bring a water bottle to your lips.

"Don't complain. Just means we gotta step up our game, right? Hit the gym more often. You got us both beat, pretty princess." Soft and sweet, the blonde leaned forward to kiss your forehead and tip you back again. "But seriously," he said with your cheeks in his hands, "don't ever scare us like that again. It's okay to stop."

You couldn't help the slightly embarrassed giggle, "I would've if I could."

"Look!" Minho came running back into the room, still completely naked. "Lipstick!" Your lipstick. Printed in a ring around the base of his flaccid cock.

Jisung's mouth dropped, "that's so hot. I want one, too."

"You just told me I should sto-"

"Next time, next time. Can't have you breaking in two." Jisung grabbed the blanket from the side chair and draped it over your body.

As Minho tossed the soiled pillows to the ground and got into bed beside you, he murmured, "yet."

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ domestic diaries

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: bite stories by peach - just a place for me to share random domestic thoughts with my faves x

ೃ⁀➷ tags: fluff; nanami kento x reader

nov. 1 - 6:37 pm

eyes dipped in adoration are drawn to your husband standing in the kitchen. your heat beats once, twice, three times faster until it fully sings. a warmth brushes your cheek, and the aroma of spice and love filter in the air.

“you’re home late,” he speaks softly, fully attuned to your presence, the tone of his voice deeper than the ocean itself, as soothing as the harmony of crashing waves.

“and you’re home early,” you reply with a sweet smile.

he looks irresistibly cozy in his chocolate brown sweater, the color bringing out the lightness in his eyes and highlighting the golden threads of his blonde locks. a grin ticks at the corner of his lip while he continues to chop the sprig of green with ease before scooping up the shredded herbs and adding them to the pot.

it doesn’t matter how much time has passed, or how long you’ve both settled into your relationship - every time you look at nanami you’re bathed in cupid’s dust. captivated in a way that no other living person would be able to recognize and reserved for only him.

you step closer, disregarding his task of meal prepping, and slot your body between him and the counter. one hand curls over the collar of his sweater, the other gliding up to the back of his head for you to brush his soft hair.

you surprise him with a kiss.

his forearm flexes as he grips the counter, his other hand curving around your waist. he naturally relaxes into you while you explore the kiss - the gesture a simple declaration of “I love you beyond comprehension”

he purrs when you teasingly arch your pelvis into him, but he quickly lifts his head, and nuzzles the tip of his nose over own to stop the kiss.

“I need to get dinner to the table, my love” he lectures playfully, smiling against your lips and feigning a level of discipline that carries little weight. “but once I’ve got you nice and fed we’ll continue with this riveting conversation…”

[spiteless-xo]

hiii for the nsfw prompts, can i request 274 + 72 with geto pleaseee? or gojo… whichever you like more bc i can’t decide 😫 it just sounds kinda funny and they’re both silly geese to me HELSODSK

eek, geto??? ok, i will try 🥺 i hope i do my baby justice. (also sorry but technically nobody says the second prompt, but geto thinks it 🙈)

my responses to these prompts keep getting longer and longer lmao sorry to everyone to requested early on and got little baby drabbles in response!!

list of prompts

╰┈➤ smut prompts - 72 & 274. “That is kinky even by my standards…” “I had no idea you were into this kind of thing”

ft. geto/fem!reader cw. unedited, explicit sexual content (restraints, oral, facesitting, ass eating, multiple orgasms), explicit language. 1,645 words.

being with geto is intimidating -- he's older than you, more experienced than you, and more confident than you.

and it doesn't help that gojo is always reminding you of these facts every time the two of you are alone together.

"suguru's last girlfriend was a gymnast," gojo had told you in a quiet, conspiratorial whisper. "you know what that means, don't you?"

no, you don't.

so you spent the night learning different ways to please him. you searched threads on reddit, found sex-positive blogs on google, and you even watched a few videos online. by the next day, you knew what you wanted to try with geto -- how to impress him.

"handcuffs?" geto asks, looking over at you from his seat on the couch. his lip twitches in amusement. "wow, that's kinky even by my standards," he says sarcastically.

you frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you childishly pout. "don't make fun of me."

"i'm not, princess," he purrs, leaning toward you to wrap his arms around your waist. he pulls you into his lap and smiles up at you as he relaxes back in his seat. "you know you don't have to do anything special to make me want you -- just being you is enough."

"but your last girlfriend was a gymnast."

"what? were you talking with satoru?"

geto sighs, cupping your face with one hand while he rubs at the crease between your brows with the thumb of his other, smoothing it down until your face relaxes from your frown. "we can try handcuffs," he says softly, "whatever you want."

"good, because i already bought them," you admit, feeling your face burn in embarrassment.

"my, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he purrs, running his tongue along his lower lip as his eyes narrow.

you wrap your thighs around his waist and geto lifts you up from the couch, cradling your ass in his hands as he walks the two of you into your bedroom.

"in here?" he asks, standing in the doorway, and you nod excitedly.

"i put them in the nightstand."

he walks you toward your bed, crawling along it on his knees, before lowering you down onto your back with your head amongst the pillows. he presses a soft kiss to your lips before moving aside, pulling open your beside drawer and pulling out a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs.

geto send you a look.

"they were the only ones they had in stock," you admit, scrunching your nose in embarrassment as geto chuckles.

he returns to his place between your thighs, grabbing both of your wrists and dragging them up above your head. he pins them down to the pillows in one of his large hands, while the other fits them around the bars of your headboard.

"wait, no!" you say quickly and he freezes immediately.

he looks down at you, concerned, and loosens his grip on your wrists so you can squirm out of his grasp. "are we moving too fast?" he asks, worry evident in his tone.

"i want to use them on you, suguru."

his eyebrows jerk up in surprise and he blinks down at you, processing what you've just said to him until a sly smile grows across his face. "full of surprises," he purrs, biting back a grin as he lets you roll him over onto his back with your palm pressed on his chest.

you straddle his hips, grabbing both of his wrists with your hands, and lifting them up above his head -- just like he did with you. he watches you intently as you fiddle with the handcuffs, locking first his right hand, then his left, before sitting back to admire your handiwork.

geto looks up at his hands, tugging gently against the restraints to test their strength before looking back down at you. "i could break out of these pretty easily."

"yeah, but don't, ok?" you pout.

you climb off from geto's lap and onto the floor, standing off the side of the bed while he looks over at you curiously. he watches you hook your fingers into your pants, sliding them down off of your thighs along with your underwear, and geto's cock throbs against his leg at the sight.

he can't help himself from squirming on the bed as he watches you settle next to him, kneeling next to his chest as you look down at him curiously. before he can ask, you swing your leg over his head until your knee is pressed into the mattress next to his opposite arm.

pressing your palms against his chest, you shift your hips back until your pussy is hovering over his mouth and geto's eyes widen in delight.

"oh," he says, voice deep and husky. "this is what you want."

he tugs against the handcuffs, wanting to grab and a handful of your ass and pull you down against his face, but he's met with resistance. he makes a small grunt of displeasure, but he licks his lips and lifts his head slightly off the pillow, instead.

"come here -- take a seat," he demands.

"let me know if i'm hurting you," you say, and there's a small quiver to your voice that reveals your hesitance -- but it just makes geto's cock throb painfully against the confines of his pants.

"you won't hurt me, princess," he assures, breathing harder now that he can see the slick building on the lips of your cunt. "come down here, let me taste you."

with a shuddering breath, you lower your hips down onto geto's face, instantly feeling the warmth of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue flattens along your slit. you experimentally rock your hips against his face -- just like you saw in the video from last night-- and let out a stuttered cry when you feel his tongue against your clit.

pressing your palms against his chest, you let your eyes fall shut, grinding down on his mouth until each rock of your hips sends jolts of electricity shooting up your spine. this feels good -- better than you thought it would -- and you let your head hang back over your shoulders as you lose yourself from the feeling.

your slick is sweet and slippery against his tongue. he wants to wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you tighter against his face -- until he can't even fucking breathe -- he wants to be suffocated by you. his hips buck needily into the open air -- he can't help himself.

he groans into your pussy when you press down a little harder and his eyes roll back into his head. all he can taste is you, all he can see is you, all he's ever wanted is you -- and here you are, grinding your pretty little cunt against his face and gripping tight fists around the fabric of his shirt.

your legs start to tremble slightly on either side of his head and he knows you're close. you rock harder -- more desperately -- against his tongue until your moans fade into stuttered gasps of pleasure and geto feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue.

his mouth is flooded with the taste of you as you cum, and he fights against the restraints to reach down and just grab you, but the handcuffs are proving to be stronger than he had expected.

you lift your hands from his chest, reaching back behind you to grab your ass as you gently spread yourself open. geto's eyes widen in surprise as your hips shift just slightly forward until his tongue flicks against your small, puckered hole.

his cock leaks precum from the tip, leaving a sticky mess on his thigh as he gently kisses your asshole -- he had no idea you were into this!

from above him, he hears you whimpering from the feeling of his lips against you. he kisses you again and again, each time pressing his tongue a little harder against your hole until it finally slips past the tight ring.

"fuck -- suguru," you whimper, pressing harder against his face as geto licks into your ass.

god, he wants to grab you so hard right now. he tugs harder against the handcuffs, the metal digging into the skin on his wrists as he fights against him.

either you don't care or you don't realize geto's frustration as he groans into your skin, as you keep rocking against his face feverishly as he buries his tongue in your ass.

you slide a hand across your hips to rub quick, small circles into your clit and geto is fully fucking the air, now. he can't help himself -- he needs you to touch him -- why won't you touch him? his cock is thick and desperate against his thigh and he just needs something.

"sugu --" you whine, and he can feel your cunt twitching against his chin, coating him in slick. "i'm gonna cum -- please."

geto groans into your skin, fucking you with his tongue and burying his face between the globes of your ass as you touch yourself.

with a whimpering cry, you cum for the second time against his face. your thighs shake and you fall forward onto his body, hands bracing yourself on his chest as you keep rocking against his mouth. geto groans, feeling you squeeze around his tongue and he pulls so hard against the handcuffs that he can feel them pinching his skin.

his cock -- desperate and needy and untouched -- twitches in the confines of his pants. geto's body tenses, bucking one last time up into the air until he feels the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm shoot through his body.

he groans, fighting against his restraints as he spills his cum into his pants, making a wet, sticky mess on his thigh to match the one you're making on his face.

god, he is obsessed with you.

[squiddy-god]

A confession to a fae

(Lilia vanrouge x reader)

Re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, this is in a similar style to captured, basically, this is more general Lilia leaning, long hair Lilia supremacy

CW : nothing much, reader is low key down bad, kinda stalking? Watching from afar? "My most cherished one"

1.5k

Who was he? That mysterious man who walked the stone path of your small cottage in the dead of night? He who stalks the trees and befriends all creatures of the night. Who is he, you wonder? 

He whose eyes glow crimson and whose pupils are not but slender slits of pitch black. You wondered who he was as you glanced with blurred vision and bated breath out the window to catch only a glimpse. 

The thought and curiosity plagued you and you worked in your garden, soft soil giving way as you dug and pulled weeds, harvested the plants you grew. The tall trees cast dancing shadows but let light flicker through, it was calm, peaceful. "Hello there my dear" you jumped and looking up there was now a figure in front of you, Dressed in a long robe the deep set hood concealed his face. He was tall, not unreasonably so but enough to make note of, he leaned only slightly against the stone wall separating the two of you. Covered in moss and discolored from years of the forest encroaching on pale stone it only came up to about waist height. He let out a chuckle at your alarm "do not fret little one, I mean no harm to you" "o-oh well 'morning" 

That was how it all began, the mysterious man showing up by that garden wall to chat, the lovely weather, the kingdom of which you hail, and the woods that you call home. He had the most pleasant stories, of dragons and swords clashing, of night walks with ghosts and of history long passed, from dusk till dawn in bliss you were held captive by the words he spoke as you tended your garden. 

"Ah drats!" You mumbled as you searched for the jar of wild herbs and mushrooms you needed, only to realize that you had run out. "Fine I suppose I'll go get more" you sighed, lacing your boots and grabbing the shallow basket you used for things like this, with that you headed off. 

Deep now in the forest and basket weighed with herbs and edible mushrooms, a few berries, and flowers you could grow you felt a cold touch on your hand. 

Stumbling back the basket landed after you, miraculously nothing split as it contacted the ground. "Apologies my dear" the cold touch was back, now in front of you kneeled the man who leaned against your garden wall, his pale hand grasping yours as it was lifted to his lips. 

Were his footsteps like rain? Silent and peaceful, you wondered as the sunlight danced with shadows if this man was the same who stalked the night with such luster. If he who held your hand in tender reverence was he who walked the path of your cottage before the sun kissed the sky. 

"It's alright, you just startled me haha" you got up, watching as he rose up, his cloak fell to conceal his ivory and alabaster pants and cuffed black leather boots. "I come here often, this tree is quite nice, perhaps I'll no longer be the only one who visits?" He extended his hand, nails sharp and pitch black. "Is that an invitation?" You took his hand. 

"Fufufu of course my dear" 

This man who you were so enraptured by was a constant question in your brain, so it was no shock that as you awoke and lit your lantern you spotted from that window by the bed, a figure dancing through the trees and got up. Heading to the kitchen then to the stone wall by the garden you left a bowl of tomato soup you had made earlier and heated up by fire. 

As morning breathed life to day you awoke again and went out to your garden, there against the wall with his back turned was the man.His vest a polished pine green embroidered with blush pink thread showing ferns and snapdragons, red dahlias and columbine flowers. The short half cape that rested on his shoulder and draped over one of his alabaster sleeves was dark slate gray and lined with silver. “Hello again sir” you greeted him like any other day and he turned to you with a fond smile. He was handsome, his striking blood red eyes set against the pale white skin and the slight dark tint to his eyes and lips. His hair was long and black, with streaks of pink and the underside bright fuchsia. His appearance was striking, especially his smile and the fangs that peaked out. “Good morning my dear, thank you for the gift you left me on the evening of last” you smiled, proud of the work you put into that soup and glad he enjoyed it. “I can't let a gift go unpaid, so before the sun bids my farewell would you invite me to repay your generosity?” “you don't have to, but if you insist!”.

Just like that he lept over our stone garden wall, his black boots lifting him up before hitting the cobblestone path. A cold hand to yours and before you knew it you were spinning, his hand at your waist and the other holding your hand. “My gift to you today is a dance through dawn.” no rhythm played in the air yet as you danced in his embrace the world seemed to be alight with beautiful melodies, his eyes held stories that ruptured your heart and made your feet sway effortlessly with his.

You wondered if this man was human, he who stalks the trees, he who dances to no music yet keeps rhythm, he who leans over the garden wall. They say you should not dance with the fae, for once you do it’ll never be the same without, you wondered if that was what he is, if his eyes hold more than lonely longing affection but his gaze always seems to silence these thoughts. 

He was beyond the garden wall now, no longer the mysterious figure but the charming man, he sat under the tree in your garden and told you stories now, occasionally he would play tunes on his bagpipe and you would dance and clap in tune when not tending your garden. He often brought flowers, lovely flowers that you had never seen, ones that never wilted and ones that bloomed in the dead of night. He also brought honeyd words and sweet glances, saying he was once lonely but had found you. The man spoke of magic and mages, you had confessed that you had no magic like others and that this was the reason you moved out to the forest. He showed you magic as you danced, the sparkling of light that spun and twirled around the air as his appearance changed before your eyes, and as yours morphed to match his own.

“I spend so much time with you now,” you pondered shifting and turning towards him “yet i don't know your name” his breath seemed to pause, a dead calm and for a moment you wondered if you had messed up. “Fufufu my my what a question to ask me, you who walk beyond thorns have not a clue what power a name holds” his answer confused you, the power a name holds? “But, you are indeed my most cherished one, so perhaps I will tell you” how he adored the way your eyes gleamed at the words he spoke. “First you must follow me cherished one~” he was up in a second and you followed.

Soon you looked down to see a stone path, the trees grew more dense and you realized you had never been this deep into the forest before. “Sir- uh my love?” “Yes darling?” Even with golden light trickling through dense leaves his eyes almost glowed the most brilliant red. “Where…are we going?” he laughed. “Fufu you will see soon enough. 

You walked deeper and deeper until only sparse light flooded in small beams and nature had entirely consumed the land, remnants of castles long taken by lakes and claimed by the forest. Even the path you realized had disappeared some time ago, your only guide was the man in front of you. The almost silent sound of his steps stopped and you ran into his back, soft fabric cushioning your blow. “H-huh?” before you in the dim lighting was what looked to be a wall of trees and thorny vine, they twisted and curved suspiciously to form a perfect circle. It was lighter on the other side but almost the same, except for the cobblestone path that emerged covered in moss. 

“This my dear, is the price for such power over me.” he stepped through and nothing seemed to happen. “Simply follow me, til the end of eternity” and before your eyes he vanished. Your eyes were wide as saucers as you stood before the circle gateway. “Alright” you said more to the memory of his figure, one foot after the other onto the other side. 

Now you stand, in a small clearing, the circle arch long gone as your feet touch the cool stone. Chilling arms and soft linen fabric wrapped around you as the ghost of a breath blew gently against your ear.

“Lillia, lillia vanrouge~” 

[peachesyeo]

Player 1117 ── ATEEZ OT8 0001 ─ into the game

THIS SERIES IS MATURE! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

⊹ 2k words ⊹ gamecharacters!ateez x fem!reader (ft. txt) ᭡ fantasy au, dark romance au, obsessive/yandere elements.

✧ a/n: i know you guys don't read my author's note so have fun. /: thank you @sousydive for beta reading.

✦ network: @newworldnet

⊂ warnings: -

:̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚��𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

This cannot be true.

You stared at the young girl in the mirror before you. She seemed no more than twelve years old, her raven hair cascades in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face like a midnight veil. Her eyes are pools of dark brown, with mesmerizing purple swirls dancing within her pupils. 

Her skin is fair and smooth, like porcelain, with a delicate rosy hue on her cheeks that speaks of youth and vitality. Her features were exactly of the Y/n in Utopia - a small button nose, full rosy lips and high cheekbones. She wears a silky sleeping gown, one that looks exactly the same as the one you are wearing right now. 

You raised your hand to touch your face, and so did her. 

You have read many novels about transmigrating - but novels are fiction. And this is real.

“I’m… in the game?” You whispered, your shaking fingers reaching to touch the mirror. But the cool touch on the tips of your fingers told you that this is not a dream, that everything is real. You looked around, the room you were in is spacious, with high ceilings adorned with intricately carved moldings and delicate crystal chandeliers. Sunlight streams through tall windows draped in dark amethyst curtains, glowing down on you.

The walls, floors and pillars were made of the finest marble, covered with sumptuous silk tapestries of flowers. You walked towards the nearest wall, running your fingers along the fine threads that form the images that seem to come alive in the flickering light of the candles and fireplace. 

In the center of the chamber sits a four-poster bed, its canopy draped in sheer silk curtains. The bed is covered in luxurious lavender silk sheets, embroidered with the finest silver thread. You walked over to them, taking a seat. They were soft and light, like you were sitting on a cotton cloud. You stared outside of the window, trying to digest the fact that you are in the game. 

But who are you?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. You watched as a maid entered, bowing to you. “Greetings to the Star of Eternity. The Moon and Eclipse have requested your audience.” 

You nearly let out a squeak; the maid had answered your question. As two young boys walked in, you were even more certain of it.

You are now Choi Y/n, Star of Eternity, Princess of the Eternity Kingdom.

"Y/n!" The shorter one ran towards you, lifting you up in his arms as though you weighed nothing. "How is our little Star feeling today?"

"Beomgyu! Y/n's twelve, stop carrying her like that!" The taller one chided, as Beomgyu rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out at his older brother in response. You wrapped your arms around his neck for support, staring up at your third brother's face.

Choi Beomgyu, the Eclipse of Eternity. He is the third Prince, known for his gift of creating illusions. Utopia did not have much of Y/n's backstory, but you knew that Beomgyu was the only person spared under Wooyoung's sword, and took over Eternity as the new King.

The Beomgyu holding you has long black hair that falls into his shoulders. He pressed a kiss onto your temple, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat. "My little Star, so precious." He cooed, ignoring the exasperated sighs of your other brother across the room. "What would I do without you?"

You looked over to your other brother for help. He put his hand on his forehead tiredly. "Let Y/n down, Gyu. Please."

"You're all work and no fun, Soobin hyung." Beomgyu pouted unhappily, placing you gently back on the bed. "Is our little Star excited to meet her new friend?"

Choi Soobin, Moon of Eternity, the second Prince born with the gift of manipulating water. He would later become the War General of Eternity, dying to San in a battle.

Soobin shared the same raven hair as the both of you, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He seemed to have had enough of Beomgyu, sighing loudly and flexing his right arm before casually delivering a loud smack on the back of Beomgyu's head. Ignoring Beomgyu's over-dramatic whines, Soobin approached you, kneeling on one knee to be at the same eye level as you. Taking your hand into his, Soobin had a simple dimpled smile on his face.

"Y/n-ah, remember when Mother mentioned that we have guests over? They are very important people, so remember to behave yourself, okay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. "How important are they, Brother?"

Beomgyu stopped whining and exchanged a look with Soobin. The other lifted his thumb and index, slowly pulling them apart. "It’s this important, Y/n-ah."

"The point is," Beomgyu interjected, earning a disapproving look from Soobin. "They will be arriving before dinner. Yeonjun hyung had already gone to welcome them along with Mother, so we have an afternoon for you to get ready, Y/n." He grinned, one that made you nervous for no reason. "Our little Star must be pretty too."

You glanced at Soobin. The older man nodded, wearing a satisfied expression on his face as though Beomgyu finally made sense. "I got you many dresses to try on, Y/n-ah. Shall we go?" He smiled, offering his hand to you.

You were bathed by the maids before they dressed you into a lavender dress with puffed sleeves and the hem fell gracefully to your knees. Beomgyu picked a purple silk ribbon, tying it to your hair while Soobin knelt on one knee, fitting a pair of white shoes with amethyst crystals onto your feet. When you were done, Beomgyu gushed in delight, showering you with compliments after compliments.

"Our Gem, our little Star," Beomgyu cooed as your face heated up at the praises. "Looking so pretty... I mean, you are always pretty, my Star, but right now, with my magnificent sense of fashion-"

"Our Star!" A loud voice boomed, sending everyone in the room jumping. A tall, blonde hair male barged in, his eyes lighting up the moment it landed on you. You hear Beomgyu mutter a curse under his breath while Soobin puts his hand on his chest. "Yeonjun hyung, at least announce that you're here!"

Yeonjun ignored him, making a beeline towards you and dismissing the maids in the process. "Our Star, so bright and... Why is she so purple?" His face scrunched up at the sight of the little purple crystals adorning your hair, which Beomgyu had 'generously' clipped onto your hair. "Take it off, take it off. The ribbon is purple enough; Y/n doesn't have to be a grape for the Kims to see."

Choi Yeonjun, Sun of Eternity, heir to the throne. He is the oldest out of the four of you, with an ability to soothe feelings. Your face fell slightly, remembering how Yeonjun had died when you played Utopia as the heroine. He was stabbed by...

Who was it?

"You don't know fashion at all, hyung." Beomgyu grumbled, cutting you off your thoughts. Soobin and Beomgyu had been quarreling over the hairclips, and you did not want to pick a side. Yeonjun removed all the crystals in your hair, leaving only the ribbon. "There, our Star shines bright enough like this."

"Thank you, Brothers." You smiled sweetly and the three cooed in response. Beomgyu had his hand dramatically held over his heart, Soobin covered his blushing face with his gloved hands and Yeonjun proudly grinning. "Wait until Mother and Father see you, little Star. Now, shall we run along?"

You took Yeonjun’s hand and allowed him to guide you to the banquet hall with Beomgyu and Soobin trailing behind you two like bodyguards. You could hear the activity in the hall from outside, and you gripped Yeonjun’s hand nervously.

"Announcing the arrival of the Sun, Moon, Eclipse, and Star of Eternity!" The voices of the guards boomed. Yeonjun squeezed your hand as the doors opened, revealing a quiet banquet hall. You could feel many eyes staring at you, but you remained composed, walking alongside Yeonjun to the King and Queen of Eternity. The nobles you walked past bowed respectfully, and when you finally reached the throne, Yeonjun let go of your hand.

"Greetings to Your Majesties," Yeonjun said, bowing to both the King and Queen of Eternity. You curtseyed, while Beomgyu and Soobin bowed behind you. “May peace be ever in your grace.” The King, your Father, nodded. “You may rise.” The King of Eternity is never shown in Utopia, but you knew that like Soobin, he died under San’s sword. You scanned the man on the throne. He seemed to be in his forties, with the same platinum blond hair as Yeonjun and a kind-looking face. 

You didn’t miss the subtle wink the raven-haired woman beside him gave you. Sending a sweet smile towards your Mother, the Queen of Eternity, you turned your attention to the two other presence in the banquet hall. 

Yeonjun turned towards them. “Greetings to the Queen of Mist, and Prince Hongjoong. May peace be ever in your grace.”

You froze slightly at the name, but quickly recovered when Yeonjun gently tickled your side, telling you to bow. When you straightened back up again, your eyes met a pair of golden slits. Kim Hongjoong gave you a soft smile, but you quickly looked away, your heart pounding.

Kim Hongjoong, the Prince of Mist. The one who the original Y/n had fallen in love with, and lost both her life and her kingdom to. When you played as Jiwon, Hongjoong seemed to be a normal, sweet Prince who was loyal and polite to her even if she was a commoner. However, when you played as Y/n, he was evil, nasty and horrifying. 

The Queen of Mist inclined her head slightly. “Greetings to the Sun, Moon, Eclipse and Star of Eternity. May peace be ever in your grace.” She turned to look at Hongjoong, who too bowed, echoing the greetings. When he was done, you grabbed onto Yeonjun’s sleeve, hiding your face in it. 

“Seems like the Star is a little shy, Mira.” Mira is your mother’s maiden name. Yeonjun patted your hair consolingly as your mother laughed. “Oh, Ayang. She'll recognize you soon, you even carried her as a baby.” 

The Queen of Mist and your mother seemed to know each other, seeing that they were addressing each other by a first-name basis. You peeked out from behind Yeonjun, avoiding Hongjoong’s gaze as you looked towards the Queen of Mist. She chuckled at your cute reaction, beckoning you. “Come here, little Star, let Auntie have a good look at you.”

“It’s not fair!” Beomgyu burst out dramatically. “You always favored Y/n, Auntie Ayang!” 

You blinked, confused at the turns of events. What is happening? Didn’t Beomgyu and Soobin say that they are important guests? And why is your Mother now walking towards the Queen of Mist, holding her hand as she speaks?

“Here.” Yeonjun pushed you out from his side gently. “Go say hi.” You carefully took a few steps forwards, still refusing to look at Hongjoong as you grip your dress tightly. “Y-your Majesty…”

“It’s Auntie Ayang for you, my little Y/n.” The woman bent down slightly while your Mother stood next to her, smiling. “I am your Mother’s best friend, little Star. This is a family event, we can be casual with each other.”

Your heart thumped loudly at this piece of information. So Y/n and Hongjoong had already known each other before Y/n went to the Kingdom of Mist for… For what?

Why.. Why can’t you remember?

“Now, shall the dinner start?” Your Father’s voice pulled you out of reality. You blinked rapidly, and quickly followed Yeonjun as everyone settled down on one table. Unfortunately for you, Hongjoong took the seat next to you. 

“Hello, Y/n. I’m Hongjoong.” Hongjoong introduced himself in a small, shy voice, his golden, snake-like eyes upon you. “I hope we’ll be good friends with each other.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing unconsciously. Then you blurted out, “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to do what, Y/n?” Yeonjun didn’t catch the whole conversation and had fetched a napkin for you. You frowned at Hongjoong, your lips forming into an adorable pout. 

“I don’t want to be friends with Kim Hongjoong.”

previous // next

➳ series taglist: @tenebrisirae @mayonnaise-on-toast @lavishloving @hrts4hanniehae @sousydive @ddaeing @huachengsbestie01 @icouldntcareless22 @anxiousskylar @devilzliaison @saintriots

➳ pernament taglist (ateez): @watermelon2319 @levishun

➳ pernament taglist: @sousydive @yeodeulz @oddracha @jaerisdiction @yukichan67 @evidive @onysmamas

[ranticore]

I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

[t-lostinworlds]

Warm Winter & Fiery Frost [2] | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x ex-HYDRA assassin!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x grumpy, enemies to lovers-ish, slow burn-ish, angst, fluff-ish

》 SUMMARY: They say opposites attract. You and Bucky were so alike—He was called The Winter Soldier and you were called Frost, for fucks sake—that it's probably the reason why you hated each other. Or was it the denying of powerful feelings in fear of getting hurt? You know, like how the cliché goes. Because you know what they also say: There's a fine line between love and hate.

》 WARNINGS: read full warnings here

》 WORD COUNT: 16.4k+

A/N: here's part two! this starts off right where the other one ended. this is also the last part, BUT BUT if you want to see more of these two or like more detailed scenes that were just mentioned in the fic just lemme know so maybe i can write it as a blurb! <3 enjoy reading!

📘 READ ON AO3 | ★ FIC MASTERPOST

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

When the rest of the team was ushered into the conference room for a debrief, you and Bucky were ordered by the Captain himself to go into a separate office. It was obvious in Steve's tone that he was serious about it. So there was no room for argument. The second Sam ended up leading the way for you both, Bucky immediately knew what this was about.

Sam gestured towards the two seats in front of the desk. You didn't bother arguing and just took your place. Bucky sat across you with a sigh.

You wouldn't even look at him.

If this was any other day, you two would've been deep into a glare-off by now.

But nothing.

Even though Bucky was looking right at you, you couldn't even do as much as lift your head. You were just fixated on the one spot on your knee, picking at it like there was some loose thread when there obviously wasn't.

Bucky couldn't stand watching you act so timid and defeated like this, so he looked away.

"Nobody wants to speak? Fine, I'll speak." Sam said after a moment, hands clasped on the table. "What the actual hell, you two?"

It was such a vague question. But somehow, both of you already knew how out of line the whole argument was because you both looked at each other without much thought.

You were quick to avert your gaze, though.

"Look, I get it," Sam sighed, looking at you two pointedly. "Everything was tense back there. We definitely weren't in high spirits when things didn't go the way we wanted it to. But was that anyone's fault?"

You both shook your head no.

"And as far as I'm concerned, you were only looking out for each, just like how teammates would correct?"

You both nodded.

It honestly was starting to look like some preschool principal's office. Bucky would've found it funny if there weren't harsh words haphazardly thrown in the mix.

"Both of you said things out of anger, and I think we can all agree that both of you went out of line," Sam continued. "But I think I'm right in assuming that neither of you meant it, either."

Bucky nodded. You didn't respond.

"Now, look each other in the eye and apologize."

"I'm not going first," he grumbled out of stubbornness.

It was becoming a bad habit, one that only ever shines around you.

He wasn't proud of it.

"You started it, asshole," you huffed, the fire in your tone slowly coming back.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Wow, that's real mature of you—"

"Quit it," Sam interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in his seat, making himself comfortable. "You're not leaving here until you both apologize."

There was a beat.

You sighed deeply, your body slumping on your chair.

Another beat before you finally met his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said, uncharacteristically gentle. "None of it was your fault. I know you didn't have a choice. I shouldn't have said what I said."

Bucky's face softened, brows raising in surprise. 

He didn't expect to see guilt in your eyes, nor did he expect to hear absolute sincerity in your voice.

It made him feel even worse.

Of course he knew you didn't mean what you said. After his comment, despite not exactly planning for you to hear it, your reaction was to be expected.

It was never pleasant to be called a 'Useless bitch,' no matter the language.

But despite only saying it out of anger, and not at all meaning it, he wasn't quite sure if you knew that.

"What I said was out of line. I'm sorry," Bucky said, his heart aching when he saw the slight mist in your eyes. "I know he double-crossed you and if you hadn't pulled that trigger, countless young girls would've been sold to God knows who. You did the right thing."

You nodded and looked away.

"And you're not useless, Y/N," he said softly, your eyes snapping up to meet his.

It was the first time he ever said your name. Bucky never truly called you by anything before apart from the occasional printsessa just to get on your nerves. Your name felt so new on his tongue yet so right that he wanted to say it again and again.

"You never were."

You didn't say anything.

You simply looked at Sam, as if begging for this to be over with.

Bucky wouldn't lie and say that didn't sting a little.

"Alright, how about a truce?" Sam said, nodding at you both. "Shake on it."

Bucky put his hand out and you took it. But he only felt your skin on his for a second before it was gone. So brief he might as well have imagined it.

He tried saying something. But before he could even grasp what exactly it was he wanted to say, you stood up and walked out of the room.

Through the glass walls, he watched you wrap your arms around yourself, head down and never looking back.

He'd never seen you look so small.

Bucky hated that he was the cause of it.

•••

He couldn't sleep.

Bucky had been staring at the wall for hours now. The very wall that connected your room to his. He wasn't quite sure what was keeping him awake—the guilt, the worry, the longing, or everything else in between.

Sighing, he got out of bed and quietly went to your shared kitchen. He didn't want to wake you up in case you were already asleep.

But as he reached the end of the hallway, he saw that the hanging light above the island was on, a figure sitting on one of the stools with a bottle of some cheap wine on the counter.

He instantly knew it was you.

Bucky wasn't sure if you noticed him yet, contemplating if he should just leave you be and give you some space. Though he should've known better. You were a trained assassin—one of the best in his opinion. So of course you already knew he was standing there, despite being in the shadows of the hallway. 

"Luka," you said, eyes glued to the something on the counter. "His name was Luka."

It took him a second to realize who you were talking about. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, or perhaps he sensed that you probably needed this. Either way, Bucky crossed the distance and sat across you on the barstool.

That was when he noticed the brown folder just sitting there, all worn and discolored as if it's been through years of handling.

It was obvious what it was.

You took a swig of the bottle, Bucky's gaze swiftly moving over your face, his heart stinging at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. Whether from the alcohol or from crying, he wasn't quite sure. It was probably even both. Still, an air of sadness surrounded you, a melancholic look sketched on your beautiful features.

Bucky hated it.

"He was a few years older than me—nine years if you want the specifics—but the youngest leader of any operation HYDRA has ever done," you continued, still nothing meeting him in the eye. "He was the son of the Red Room's head scientist, Lyudmila Antonovna Kudrin. HYDRA recruited Luka, which gave him all the resources he needed to recreate his mother's genius."

"But you two became close," he asked.

"Luka was my teacher and my best friend," you said with such longing and grief that there was no doubt that you two had grown a strong bond. But then you met his gaze, a sad smile on your lips. "Or something you're probably more familiar with, my handler."

A chill ran down Bucky's spine.

He knew that there was something else going on, that it wasn't just a normal relationship. He just didn't expect it to be this deep and well, fucked up.

"Acted differently with me, though. He was sweet and kind—never laid a hand, never even raised his voice. He was patient, encouraging, affectionate. He'd make me laugh over the stupidest things, but also firm enough to make sure I give the best that I can. He was—" Your voice cracked, a sound so vulnerable it made his heart ache. "He used to sneak some snacks into my room at night even though it was against my training regime. We'd watch movies on this old, beat-up television until we'd fall asleep, cuddling with each other because my room didn't have a heater. He gave me cute nicknames—printsessa, was his favorite."

Bucky felt his throat dry up.

That explained so much of the animosity you had over the nickname.

Maybe that was why you weren't phased when people called you Frost, because it was a different name entirely that brought you harsh memories.

And Bucky was the only one who taunted it every single time.

"If people were to ask you to think of an evil scientist, he's never going to be the person that'd cross your mind." 

"You never saw it coming," Bucky sighed.

You shook your head. "It was innocent at first, a friendship. But as I grew older we became more…intimate."

He hated how you looked so guilty and ashamed. None of it was your fault. It was obvious enough that this poor excuse of a guy manipulated you to a point where you thought there was something real between you two.

If this guy wasn't already dead Bucky couldn't even begin to describe what he'd do to him.

"That night was probably what he was waiting for. It was the best proof he could get that trusted him completely by giving him my—" You bit your lip and looked down.

Bucky didn't need you to say it to know.

He thought he'd be a little jealous to hear you talk about the intimacies of your relationship, with anyone for that matter. But all he felt was pure sadness and hurt. You gave all that you could to this guy—your trust, your affection, your love and he just spat it right back to your face.

"And I did. I fucking trusted him because I was young, impressionable, and stupid—"

"Stop that," Bucky said firmly. "You were not stupid."

"I still fell for it, didn't I?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "But when you get that little bit of sunshine in a cold harsh world, you hang on to it."

Bucky already knew what horrors HYDRA was capable of. Hell, he'd live through decades of it himself. But just as he thought they couldn't get any more cruel, they pulled something monstrous like this.

It was pure evil.

To make you believe that you had someone in your corner during those moments, that someone actually cared for you, someone who showered you with affection and made you feel like you were free, someone who made you laugh despite your circumstances.

Only for that person to end up being a complete monster who only ever used you for personal gain.

With Bucky, he always knew that all of them were evil bastards, that they never truly cared for him, and that they didn't even see him as a human. He always knew that he was just an asset and nothing more. HYDRA did so many wicked things to him, from physical, mental and emotional torture to countless abuse. But at least he knew what it was from the start.

With you?

They gave you warmth and hope only to snatch it away like it was some useless toy and slap you with it.

He couldn't even imagine how it must've felt, the betrayal, the hurt and heartbreak on top of all the physical and mental torture that was inflicted on you because they sure as hell weren't going to exempt you from that.

And all of this because of one person.

"I trusted him, blindly and completely. I let him lead me into this lab every single day even if I come out of it not knowing anything they were doing because I trusted him."

It was probably subconscious, the way you had been scratching the back of your neck from time to time.

Bucky understood why.

He used to do the same with his shoulder whenever he was recalling something from his past.

"A month in that lab, I woke up to something stinging in the back of my neck," you continued. "He told me not to worry about it, that it was going to help me be the best in my field, that it was there for communication Purposes. Well, he wasn't lying," you scoffed. "Not exactly."

"What did they give you in that lab?" he asked, despite already having an inkling. HYDRA was never one to stray too far away from their old ways.

"A variation of the super soldier serum, administered in small doses. They didn't perfect it yet, and after I've—" You took a deep breath. "The program was delayed after the incident since Luka was mostly the brains of the operation. So I ended up being more than your typical human, but not quite close to a super soldier. I was a бесполезная середина. They loved calling me that."

Bucky shut his eyes as the guilt punched him in the gut.

Useless middle.

How has he managed to do it twice? 

"Ironic since I was their most used asset during my time there," you said, shrugging. "I mean, I've got a great immune system so it's rare for me to get sick, enhanced stamina, have that bit of extra strength. I age slower than most, not as slow as you and Steve but, slow enough."

No wonder why you were able to hold out your own during that spar against him. And while the serum did give you an advantage over most, Bucky didn't doubt that it merely aided your deadly skills. He truly did believe you could still give him a run for his money without it.

"And the chip?"

"Learned that the hard way. It did nothing for the first few months that I had it—not yet, I supposed since I was still willingly compliant with whatever they wanted me to do," you explained, shaking your head dejectedly. "It should've been enough of a warning that I was the only one who had it.

"The missions they assigned me to weren't much at first. Most of the time all I did was just steal technology or whatever it was they needed to build their weapons." A shadow crossed your face. "At least that was what they made me believe."

Bucky frowned. "Until that night."

You nodded. "As I was getting ready to do the op, one of the scientists was talking about how this shipment was crucial to the start of Program Six. It piqued my interest. Not only that but, despite being highly trained since he was part of the military, Luka preferred to be in the lab than out in the field. Yet somehow he wanted to join me during this one. So I was extra wary that night, looking for something even though I wasn't quite sure there was something to look for. But then I heard it—faint whimpers and sniffles and then a very tiny, sweet voice saying 'It'll be okay.'

"I was under strict instructions not to mess with the shipment in case some chemical might get displaced or whatever. But something in my gut just told me to open this one. So I did," you breathed out, blinking back tears before taking another swig of the bottle. "When I opened those doors and saw those little kids, not older than six or seven, mostly young girls…I was just so angry."

Despite your choice of words, the only thing that coated your voice was pure sadness. Bucky wanted to reach out to you and provide even the tiniest bit of comfort. But he figured it was best to just let you finish before anything else.

Besides, you weren't close.

He didn't know how you would react to any physical affection from him, no matter the intention.

"I felt so betrayed because he kept saying that it was only weapons we were stealing, it was only chemicals we were transporting. I was foolish enough to not look into it because I trusted him," you gritted, harshly slamming the bottle back on the counter, the glass cracking but not breaking.

"But he was feeding me half-truths the entire time. There were weapons they took for storage, I just wasn't made aware that it was going to be used for training these young kids. Chemicals were being transported, they just never mentioned the fact that it was used for the recreation of super soldier serum. But with the kids—" You shook your head. "I never knew. They were taking notes from the Red Room, I supposed. But with this program, they were going to be more merciless, get them used to wielding heavier artillery and fight like a soldier and be undetectable and cunning like a spy—a deadly combination of the Black Widow Program and the Winter Soldier Program."

"And you're the first," Bucky said, voice coming out rougher than he intended it to.

"His best and newest weapon," you laughed sarcastically. "I thought he cared about me—well, he did. Not me as his friend, not even as a person but as a symbol of his success, living proof of his genius, to make his мама proud. I was nothing more but his naïve little plaything."

Bucky's jaw clenched.

He would never wish for you to see that man ever again. But if Bucky could bring him back to life, he would—just so he could kill him again in the most brutal way he could. That monster didn't deserve your mercy of a quick death. It should have been very slow and excruciating. He would've made sure of it.

But, what's done was done. The bastard was gone, leaving you here with nothing but the ghosts and demons that were so fucking hard to escape from when they lived inside your mind.

"It was smart, making himself seem vulnerable with me, letting me believe that I had freedom, that I was his equal. After all, the best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison."

"Fyodor Dostoyevsky," Bucky grumbled. "Yeah, HYDRA tends to live by that."

"He probably thought he had me wrapped around his fingers that tightly when he told me all of this straight to my face. He was always proud. He underestimated just how much anger and heartbreak can do to a person. And that night all I saw was red and then he called me printsessa in the most condescending and degrading way and I just—" You breathed in shakily. "I shot him. No hesitation. No second thought. Right in between the eyes."

In the years that he'd been on this planet, Bucky had realized that the one thing that men like Luke had in common was the stupidity that only an unchecked ego can bring. They always get so high off the power they have over a person that they tend to forget that they aren't invincible.

This Luka bastard simply forgot what you were capable of. It was quite ironic since he technically created you—as fucked up as that sounds. He probably got a kick out of it, watching your heart break into pieces right in front of his eyes. He probably thought that by being so blatant with his betrayal, you were going to be weakened, that you were going to submit to him.

But everyone knows how the saying goes:

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Bucky only saw a glimpse of this anger you were speaking of, and he would never want to be on the receiving end of it. He wasn't a genius, but he was smart enough to know that you were way too powerful. You could easily make him suffer if you truly wanted to, it didn't matter if he was a super soldier.

"That was how I knew what the microchip did. It sends signals to your brain that your body is in excruciating pain even when it's not," you explained. "It tricks your brain into feeling like you're getting shot without any trace of a gunshot wound. It's like torture without any physical consequences. No damage to my body meant no time wasted on recovery, so they were able to throw me into mission after mission, nonstop."

"How—"

"I was able to fight the pain long enough to grab his radio," you breathed out shakily, eyes everywhere else as your fingers picked at the torn label of the bottle.

Bucky couldn't even imagine what that experience was like. To stare at the corpse of someone you care about whose death was at your own hands, the searing pain that your mind was tricking you into, trying to save these young children as quickly as possible—all of that while harboring the guilt, the feeling of betrayal, the grief, the heartache at the same time.

"I don't know why but HYDRA liked to keep tabs on SHIELD so any information about them was known to most in the facility, including ways to contact them and intercept their lines," you elaborated. "For some unconscious reason, I was able to memorize one of their channels. Luckily enough, my call went straight to Nat's communication line. She traced it back to my location and was able to get the kids out."

"That's how she found you?"

"No." You shook your head. "I wasn't there when they arrived. I knew the chip was also a tracker. I couldn't stay there and lead HYDRA straight to the children. So I got into one of their vans and drove as far as I could go, trying to tell my mind that I didn't have any injuries, that it was a trick. I didn't know how long I was driving until I passed out from the pain. It wasn't long after that HYDRA inevitably found me and they were not happy."

That was an understatement.

HYDRA never took it lightly when one of their prisoners escaped. They were egotistical bastards. A crack in their system was unacceptable and they were going to try their hardest to rectify that—torturing escapees was just the start.

What more if said escapee killed the leader of their current program?

"After that, they returned to old ways," you said, your teary eyes finally meeting his. "Wiped my memory and controlled me with the chip like I was their real life video game character and all I could do was let them. Every time I fought it and gained consciousness and fought back—"

"The chip hurts you."

"I became their new favorite asset, molded me to become even more like their all time favorite," you snorted, raising the bottle to him with a nod before emptying it in one go. Despite everything you'd just told him, some humor managed to sneak into your tone. "At least they didn't name me Winter Soldier II. That would've been so fucking annoying."

"It would've." Bucky cracked a small smile. Though it was gone a second later. "How did you get out?"

"Natasha Romanoff and her stubbornness," you hummed, the corner of your lip lifting a little. "That night when I called her, a proof that I was actually still alive, it gave her enough courage to keep looking for me."

"But you've met before?"

"Briefly." You nodded. "Back in the Red Room. I was only nine when she was already close to graduating. Left an impression on her when I beat her at a spar."

"You didn't," Bucky couldn't help but chuckle. That must've been a sore spot for the Widow.

"I did," you hummed, smiling a little. It made his heart warm despite the gloomy atmosphere. "I was a feisty little girl, an absolute terror. Managed to cut her arm and it caught her off guard. It gave me enough time to pin her down."

Bucky wasn't surprised one bit.

There was an extremely valid reason why HYDRA took interest in you.

"She took me under her wing for most of it, me and this other girl, Yelena. It wasn't long until I saw them as my sisters. Sometimes you just bond quickly in that environment. But during Nat's graduation ceremony, a deal got closed. I was traded to HYDRA and I never saw them again," you continued, the sadness seeping back into your body. "She didn't stop looking for me though. Even more when she found a lead through the Red Room's system before destroying it. But then it was all just dead ends because HYDRA didn't stay in one place for long. They grew paranoid after what happened to Dreykov. Nat was starting to lose all hope until that call."

"But she didn't find you right after?"

You shook your head. "Not after years later. HYDRA kept me in the shadows as much as they could. So most of my missions were quick and under the radar. But when word got around that The Winter Soldier was now walking amongst civilians, they saw that as an opportunity. They thought it was worth the risk to send me even though I would be out in the open more."

Bucky straightened in his seat. "You were sent to kill me?"

"Do you really think they wanted their favorite child out of the picture?" you said, brow raised. "They just wanted me to extract you and take you back."

"But you never got close enough," Bucky said, unable to push aside his ego. "I would've noticed if you did."

You rolled your eyes. "No, I didn't. Not only did that intel leak, Nat has been tracking everything under the sun for any signs of me. So she and Steve got to me first."

Bucky vaguely remembered that mission.

He'd only been at the compound for a year when Steve and Nat suddenly disappeared for a couple of weeks. They said it was a simple recon mission at first. But then they never got back during the time they said they would be, kept saying that something new came up. The team was kept updated that they were fine and alive, but was never told any details.

When they did get back, the two of them would be in and out of the compound every other week and for days on end. They always did it together and Bucky found that a little suspicious. So he asked Steve if something was going on between the two. Even though Steve turned bright red he told Bucky it wasn't like that, and that whatever it was they were hiding, he'd find out soon enough. 

Nine months later, the whole team was called for a meeting. Turns out, Steve and Nat had been looking after someone in Wakanda, someone who they heavily vouched to be a great addition to the team. There was a lot of back and forth during that time, especially given the background provided. But ultimately, they decided to give a second chance because, as Nat said so pointedly at everyone, that's what the Avengers were for.

The day after that meeting, you arrived at the compound.

"Nine years," Bucky said, gaze holding your confused ones. "You were controlled by the chip for nine years."

"I know. You went through it far longer than I have—"

"It's not a competition."

"Then why have you been acting like it is?" you scoffed. Bucky could do nothing but watch as you slowly build your walls back up. "Nat promised me a fresh start when I joined the Avengers, and it has been like that for the most part. But you can't seem to let go of where I've come from."

"Can you blame me?" he said, starting to get defensive.

"I get it, alright. An ex-HYDRA assassin just waltzing into your lives calls for extra precaution," you scoffed, shaking your head. "But you didn't have to be a fucking asshole about it."

Bucky clenched his jaw, glare now starting to match yours.

Why does it always end in an argument?

"You know what's funny? Steve talked so highly of you. He was so excited for us to meet, said how we both would get along, how we're going to be fast friends or whatever. But then I met you and you just hated me from the start."

"Don't fucking act as if you liked me," he argued.

"I just fucking couldn't!" you admitted, breathing starting to become heavy. "Because you remind me of him too much."

He scoffed, throwing his hands up. "How the fuck is that my fault?"

"Do you even remember what your first words to me were?"

Bucky looked away.

Of course he remembered.

It was the shittiest thing to say to a person at the first meeting.

"Luka was holding a file when I first met him," you gritted. "My file."

It wasn't intentional.

None of what Bucky did was ever intentional.

He didn't know.

But that somehow made it even scarier, how he was able to emulate a ghost from your past without much thought, hesitation or any effort.

"So that's why you hate me?" he said, defeated. "Because I remind you of him?"

You looked away.

It was an answer in itself.

Bucky deflated in his seat, any signs of mending whatever this was with you, to be civil or hopefully have a friendship, thrown out the window. Because how was he meant to compete with that? You hated him because seeing him reminds you of a trauma from your past. These things were out of his control.

Or were they?

Did it count when he'd been wearing a mask in front of you this whole time?

"Why tell me all of this then?" he asked glumly.

"That's why you don't trust me, isn't it? Because you didn't know much about what happened?" you said as if it was obvious. "Well, now you know. You can finally leave me alone." You hopped off your stool, pushing the folder towards him. "Your favorite thing to read."

As you were walking away, he called out,

"Y/N?"

His heart ached a little when you tensed.

You stopped but you didn't turn around.

"For what it's worth," he said, eyes carefully trained on your figure. "You're a good person and none of that was your fault."

He saw your shoulders drop a little. But you didn't say a word. You continued walking, leaving him there alone under the kitchen light.

Bucky looked at the file for what seemed like hours, just staring at the bold letters of a foreign language that covered the front. Still, he didn't need to be fluent in Russian to know what it was about. He was battling with himself, if there was any real need for him to read it, if he even wanted to.

Yet curiosity got the best of him.

The second he opened it, his blood ran cold.

The first thing he saw was a Polaroid photo of two people. He recognized you, obviously. You looked so much younger, though. Bucky didn't know if that was because this picture was taken so long ago, or it was the fact that you were smiling, so wide and bright, so innocent.

But that wasn't the unnerving part.

It was the man standing next to you with an arm around your waist, looking at you with a charming, almost boyish smile.

Bucky has never met this man in his life but dear God he looked too familiar it was fucking terrifying.

When you said Bucky reminded you of Luka, he thought you meant it as the way he'd been acting around you.

He didn't expect it to be physical too.

The man in the photo might as well have been Bucky.

If the picture wasn't faded, then maybe the difference would be obvious. But he doubted it. The same stature, the same bone structure to the face, the same eyebrows, the same hair—when it was longer, at least. He couldn't get a clear look of the eyes but he wouldn't put it past the universe that it was the same color as his as well. The resemblance wasn't close enough for them to look like identical twins, but this man could definitely pass as Bucky's brother.

It was so uncanny it made his skin crawl.

No wonder why you could barely look at him when you first got here.

With a shaky breath, he closed the folder without venturing further.

He left it outside your door as he went back to his room. Though, it was obvious he was going to have a hard time sleeping tonight.

•••

It was like being back to square one.

Well, not like you two truly ever moved past that phase.

You still left tiny traces of you around your shared floor so it wasn't like you'd turned into a complete ghost. And, unfortunately, your nightmares have been more frequent than before.

He felt a sense of guilt about that. Maybe him making you relive your past was the reason for it.

Either way, the arguments and bickering had been happening less. It was simply because you didn't say a word to him whenever he was around. You only acknowledged his presence whenever he would speak to you first—or should he say, got on your nerves.

It wasn't like he was picking fights with you out of the blue like a schoolboy trying to get your attention—okay, maybe it was close enough to that.

Bucky was being pedantic when it came to you. Whether that's correcting your stance during training when there really was no need, arguing about your choice of strategy out in the field, harping about why you changed the setting on the dishwasher to the wrong one, or complaining about the show you were watching despite not knowing anything about it.

He honestly wouldn't be surprised if you'd suddenly throw a knife at him one of these days.

You hadn't, though. You'd simply look at him calm and composed, get your final word—or insult, whichever came first—and walk away.

Somehow, your level-headed response annoyed him more than your quips and comebacks.

He couldn't truly explain why he was acting this way.

It could be that there was just something different about arguing with you now, like somehow there was no real animosity behind the words.

Despite you confirming that you did in fact hate him—for reasons he thought were quite unfair—Bucky didn't necessarily feel said hatred. Annoyance? Absolutely. But did you despise him? He wasn't quite sure.

He wasn't calling you a liar by any means. He simply thought that maybe, just maybe, there was something else hidden beneath the surface.

And in the days that followed, his assumptions had only been proven right more and more each time.

•••

Bucky jolted up from his bed drenched in sweat.

His nightmares had been happening so far in between lately, which he was grateful for. Getting to work on it daily in therapy definitely helped.

But that didn't mean they disappeared entirely.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he closed his eyes and listened.

Whenever he woke up from a nightmare, he would always find a way to ground himself back. That was the advice given to him and it did work from time to time. Lately, he'd been doing it quite differently.

Ever since you moved to the room next to his, to be specific.

He didn't know why, but hearing your heartbeat or your calm breathing was enough to ground him in some way. Sure, it might have been a little creepy but, it wasn't like he was making his way into your room, standing there until he calmed down.

At first, he thought he was hearing your heartbeat through the wall. With his enhanced hearing, it wasn't far-fetched for that to be the case. But the more his senses slowly refocused, he realized that the sound seemed to come from a different direction.

Bucky stared at his bedroom door, brows deeply furrowed.

As quietly as he could, he got out of bed, making his way towards it and then pressing his ear against the surface.

Bucky felt his heart stutter when he heard it, heard you—soft yet shaky breaths, heart beating a little faster, fingers tapping nervously against the door that separated you both.

You were right there.

Have you always been right there?

You were fighting with yourself in your head, wondering if you should knock or just walk away. There was no need for him to be able to read your mind.

Bucky knew.

He knew because he'd done the same thing for you.

Sure, it was presumptuous. But why else would you be doing this, standing outside his room in the middle of the night, close enough that he could hear the loudly erratic beating of your heart through the thick and solid hardwood door?

Bucky contemplated opening it even if he didn't know what would happen if he did, so many possibilities because whatever this was between you two had always been unpredictable.

Or maybe it wasn't.

Maybe it was painfully obvious what this was, you two were simply too in denial and downright stubborn to admit it to yourselves, let alone, each other.

But before Bucky could come to a decision, he heard you sigh, long and deep, something akin to relief. You probably mistook the silence as him falling back to sleep. Not long after that, he heard your footsteps slowly fade away, and then your door closing.

Bucky was awake for the rest of the night.

Not because of the horrors that haunted his dreams, but because of the woman that made him so confused in more ways than one.

Yet this discovery simply pushed him to be more observant about things, to not let his emotions drive first, which has always been the case when you were in the picture.

It was then that Bucky started to see things differently.

During the day, you were the same feisty firecracker, never looking in his direction unless with a glare, only speaking to him in a tone of disdain.

But pushing all your hostility aside, he was now seeing the little things.

And Bucky has never felt so blind and stupid.

It had always been there, the little acts of kindness that most would overlook. He always appreciated it since it was something new to him after decades of only ever receiving horrible things from others. He simply assumed it was from everyone else. Whether that was from Steve or Sam or Wanda or Nat, or maybe even Tony from time to time when technology to enhance his comfort was involved.

Never you.

With how you two were with each other, it shouldn't have been surprising that he put you last on the list of people who would actually do something nice for him.

But as he stared at the pre-made coffee waiting for him in the morning, he couldn't stop wondering just how long you'd been doing this for him.

Sam, despite having a kitchen of his own, always seemed to migrate to yours every morning and ate his breakfast there. And whenever Bucky would wake up to the ruckus, there was always a cup of coffee already waiting for him while Wilson sipped his own mug. So he simply assumed that the man had made one for him, too.

But Sam wasn't in the compound at the moment, and wouldn't be for a couple of weeks.

Yet the coffee was still there, waiting for him.

How could one person be so blind?

Bucky should've clocked it the second he teased Sam about doing something nice for him for once. Wilson had looked confused at first, a split second where his eyes widened before nodding frantically. Saying stuff about it being the least he could do for always raiding the fridge.

You walked past Bucky a second later.

He didn't think much of it at that time, especially when you two started bickering immediately.

Now, it made so much sense.

Sure, this might all just be in his head and he was way off the mark. That was also plausible.

But then there was the reappearing tea on his bedside table when he was having a particularly hard week.

•••

Bucky jolted awake, grabbing the wrist of someone who was reaching over his bedside table.

His grip immediately slackened when he met the eyes of a very startled you.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice gruff from sleep, especially when he hadn't been leaving his bed for some time now.

He wasn't exempted from having off days. He might not get sick due to the serum in his veins, but that didn't extend to the mental side of things, unfortunately. This week had been tough on him, especially after a rescue mission that didn't go as smoothly as planned. There were no casualties, thankfully, but when the injured involved the innocent, it was simply hard to deal with.

Given that he was at the forefront of said mission, he mostly took it more personal than the others. He was grateful the rest of the team was letting him be and leaving him alone. They knew it was what he needed so they didn't pester him about getting out of his room or simply didn't bother him at all. 

Well, most of them.

Seemed like a certain someone couldn't resist any longer.

He hadn't seen you in days, so this was quite a lovely surprise to see you in his room. He couldn't even be bothered to think about how you got in.

Bucky was just happy that you were here.

"Steve ordered me to give you these so," you reasoned, shrugging to seem nonchalant but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

Bucky glanced at the mug you set on his nightstand, the smell of chamomile slowly invading his senses. Then it was followed by something chocolatey, which he later would find out was a slice of brownie.

As his eyes drifted back to you, he couldn't stop his lips from twitching into a small smile.

He had never seen you so flustered and most of all shy before.

It was adorable.

While Steve did check on him earlier today, he wasn't quite sure if he had something to do with your sweet gesture.

Nobody made you do anything, much less, something nice for him.

“Steve ordered you?”

“Mhmm,” you said, still looking anywhere but at him. "I—He wanted to see if you were still alive."

Bucky could tell you were lying. If not for the unsureness in your voice, then the way you looked so caught definitely gave it away.

"He busy or something?" he asked anyway, enjoying the way you squirmed.

Sue him, alright. He'd never seen you like this before. It was such a rare sight and you looked so fucking cute. He couldn't help but prolong it a little bit longer. It was making his heart warm.

You shrugged, your sock—one with bunnies on them—clad feet rubbing on your ankle. "Something, probably."

"Hmm." He tilted his head, eyes still carefully on you. "Are those brownies?"

"Yep. Store-bought," you said, nodding far too quickly for it to be convincing.

"Did Steve buy them?"

"No, I—" you paused, pursing your lips before sighing, "Yes."

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

That made you even more flustered.

"Can you—" You glanced at his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, wiggling it softly, silently asking him to let go.  "—got, uhm, stuff to do."

"Okay, well, tell Steve thank you." he hummed, thumb softly stroking your wrist before he let you go. "I really appreciate this."

You only nodded, scurrying out of his room without even bothering to close his door.

Bucky chuckled at that.

Later that night when he went to the kitchen to grab a quick snack, he found the rest of the brownies in a glass container, sitting in the fridge. But what put a smile on his face was an empty box of brownie mix sitting in the trash.

Bucky was sure you baked them yourself.

Was it too presumptuous to say that you did it solely for him?

Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, things were starting to get clearer for him because the more he observed your behavior, the less complicated things seemed to be.

It was getting obvious, how your hatred for him was a façade—as time moved past anyway. Perhaps there was some disdain the first few months, especially when you started on the wrong foot.  

He couldn't say when exactly it happened, but he could see that your animosity towards him had turned into a heavily enforced wall to protect yourself.

From what? Probably the same reason why Bucky's distaste towards you was nothing more than a shield.

Looking back to the first time he laid eyes on you. The emotions he felt were simply so intense and happened so quickly that, well, it scared him. So what did he do instead of confronting these feelings head-on? He denied, denied, denied—tried so fucking hard to find all your flaws and imperfections to put a damper to it.

It was a poor attempt to not get closebecause there obviously was something there, something that if left unattended, would grow powerful, leave him utterly vulnerable and at your mercy, so much to a point where it would be dangerous.

When he had already, wholeheartedly, admitted that he would let you burn the world down, how could it not be?

Yet as dangerous as it could be, would that really negate the fact that this thing with you—if it were to blossom—had the potential to make him so happy?

Bucky flopped back on his bed with a sigh, glancing at the now-empty mug on his bedside table. It was the fifth one that appeared on his nightstand this week, along with either a brownie or some other sweet treat.

And to say that he truly believed that these secret acts of kindness were one-sided.

He could almost hear Steve's all-knowing voice in his head.

"The two of you are more alike than you think."

•••

"The tea and brownies. She said you made her do it. Is that true?" Bucky decided to confront his best friend on one of their morning runs together.

Steve's eyes widened, cheeks turning red but he still refused to say anything.

He shot him a look. 

"Buck…"

"I just want the truth, Steve."

"I caught her baking brownies when I went to check on you. I jokingly said how nice it was to do this for you and she immediately made me swear not to tell anyone. So, she's going to kill me for this," Steve caved, chuckling. "I didn't know it was a regular occurrence."

"Well, it kept appearing until I felt better," Bucky said, cheeks heating up. He turned to the other person who was watching the conversation with amusement. "And you?"

"Me?" Sam blinked.

"The coffee in the morning."

"She was giving me the death glare, what was I meant to do?" Sam defended before smirking. "And no offense, Buck, but I'm more afraid of her than I am of you."

"Great," he sighed, glaring at them both with no real heat behind it. "Now I see where both your allegiances lie."

"I genuinely thought you figured it out by now?"

He looked at Sam confused. "Figured out what?"

"The nice things she's been doing for you?" Sam said, eyes widening when Bucky didn't have a moment of clarity. "Oh wow. I didn't know you were this oblivious." 

"What Sam is trying to say," Steve interjected. "She has done some nice things for you. Sometimes you're just too busy being angry or annoyed at her to notice."

Bucky already knew that.

It didn't make it less embarrassing to have someone else point it out for him, though.

"She gets angry and annoyed at me first," he grumbled—much like a child, he was aware.

"Probably on purpose." Sam shrugged, elaborating when they looked at him confused. "She probably doesn't want you to know in case you'd make fun of her for it. You two don't exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to being nice to each other. So she probably thinks you're going to take it the wrong way."

Was that why you were rendered so shy and perhaps, nervous when he caught you?

"Don't worry, Buck." Steve patted his back. "You two will figure it out eventually."

He didn't know what exactly he meant by that, yet somehow, Bucky felt hopeful that it would.

Eventually.

•••

"Wanda, can I ask you something?"

"She does," she answered before Bucky could even elaborate. "She does look out for you in the field. You're just too focused on keeping her safe to notice it."

Bucky's heart stuttered at that.

Since Wanda always had a high vantage point during missions so she could help whenever she was needed most, it wasn't farfetched that she'd actually see this play out.

It was probably quite an amusing sight to see you two watch each other's six discreetly enough to not let the other notice.

"Did you read my mind?" Bucky narrowed his eyes teasingly.

"No," she laughed. "Sam's just a blabbermouth."

"Yeah, figured it out as much."

"He couldn't stop talking about you debating if Y/N has been nice to you or not," Wanda elaborated, smiling into her tea. "But I can guarantee you that she has, evidently so. Which surprises me how you haven't noticed."

"Has it really been that obvious?"

She nodded. "You two have been defending each other behind your backs. It's always amusing to see her get so angry when someone insults you, especially when you're not there. She's been starting to get really specific with who she spars with just so she could avenge you in her own little way," she elaborated, tilting her head with a grin. "And I know for a fact you do the exact same thing."

"How are you so sure?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, that Liam guy didn't get that black eye out of nowhere, did he?"

"He was being a fucking pervert," Bucky grumbled, blushing when Wanda's grin widened.

"It is kinda cute," she hummed. "How you two somehow came up with this unspoken rule that nobody else gets to be mean to you except each other."

"But she has always hated me?"

"I don't see her action as her hating you," Wanda said. "I see it as someone who deep down cares, but is too afraid to even acknowledge it. Because the second you come to accept it, then it becomes real, right?"

•••

Bucky couldn't go back to sleep.

He usually never could whenever he'd get woken up by you having a nightmare. But maybe this time, he didn't necessarily want to go back to sleep.

When he heard your door open just as he entered his room, he'd been wondering if he should follow you.

Perhaps he was curious where you went, or maybe he was downright concerned. This was the first time you ever left your room after a nightmare, so Bucky could deduce that this one was difficult to shake off.

Sighing deeply, Bucky threw the covers off himself again because fuck it.

What could possibly go wrong?

Grabbing a shirt, he ventured out of his room and into the desolate halls of the compound. He had an inkling as to where you were, the sound of a punching bag being brutalized getting louder the more he walked proving him right.

Compared to the training room in the facility, the gym below the Avengers' residences was far smaller—well, enough to fit one boxing ring, at least.

Bucky found you in the middle of it.

Your movement wasn't calculated, nor were they graceful. Punches were thrown for the sake of it, kicks with power but no technique.

There was quite the distinction between training and exercise, over letting out sheer anger before it could consume you.

What you were doing was clearly the latter as your bare knuckles hit worn-down leather.

"Where are your gloves?"

You spun around with a yelp at the sound of his voice, eyes wide with shock as it landed on him.

It must've been quite the rough nightmare when you didn't even notice him walk in, especially when he wasn't at all discreet about his presence.

You immediately glared at him when the surprise wore off. "Will you ever leave me the fuck alone?"

"So you own the gym now?" Bucky scoffed, arms crossed before he shrugged. "It was just a question."

"Didn't feel like wearing one," you said, throwing a harsh jab at the bag.

"Can't sleep?"

You rolled those pretty eyes of yours. "Isn't that obvious?"

Bucky hummed, parting the ropes as he got in the ring.

You ignored him and continued your assault on the bag. That, until he walked over to the opposite side and grabbed it.

"What are you doing?" you huffed.

Bucky reached up, unclipped it from its hanger and tossed it to the side with ease.

"I was using that!"

He ignored you until he was standing in the middle of the ring, arms out as he faced you.

"Picture me as him."

It took you a second to realize what he was implying.

"Have you lost your mind?"

"You want to let off steam?" he said, going into a southpaw stance, nodding curtly. "Go for it."

Hands on your hips, you raised a brow. "What makes you think I won't seriously hurt you?"

"I trust you enough not to."

That caught you off guard.

"Unless you're scared—"

"As fucking if, Barnes."

Bucky smiled to himself.

Always works.

You threw the first punch.

Bucky never threw one.

He knew you needed to let this anger out so he let you. He was mostly on defense—blocking, evading, sidestepping and the occasional ducking whenever you'd throw in a kick for the fun of it.

Just your personal punching bag, really.

He could tell it was helping, though. The tense nature you had when he walked in was slowly fading, your punches and kicks now getting more precise instead of haphazardly thrown.

And when you gave him a look to say you needed more of a challenge, he gladly obliged.

This would mark the second time he'd sparred with you. Since the first one was extremely heated, nobody really tried to instigate another one again.

But this time around? Bucky could sense your playfulness.

It was both surprising and so addicting.

There was no ego and no animosity. Obviously, there was still a hint of competitiveness but it never truly felt serious. You weren't truly aiming to get a proper hit on him nor was he trying to one-up you in any way.

It was an innocent bout, a friendly spar.

Even when you suddenly pulled out a knife when he had you in a headlock.

Youtapped the flat of the blade against his right forearm, the very one he had around your neck.

He loosened his grip, letting you spin in his hold. You stepped back as you faced him, the tip of the knife pointed right in his face.

Tilting his head to the side, he met your eyes with a raised brow.

"You're not playing fair."

You shrugged, flipping the knife in the air and catching it on your other hand.

"You have a metal arm."

Bucky cracked a smile, one that widened when he saw the corner of your mouth lift just a little.

"Touche," he hummed, moving swiftly to disarm you but you clocked his attack right away. You countered with a sidestep, hitting his side with the butt of the knife and jumping out of reach.

"Gotta be faster than that, old man," you teased.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so now we're playing the age card?"

"You're a hundred years old."

Shaking his head, he went after you running. You used the ropes to your advantage, climbing onto them and using their elasticity to jump over him. One hand grabbing his shoulder, your legs locked around his waist from behind, the knife immediately up against his neck.

He grabbed your ankles that were right on his abdomen, pinching the blade with his metal fingers. You jumped off his back before he could attempt to shake you off himself. Bucky turned only to be met by the knife right up his face.

Again.

"Do you always have a knife with you?" he asked out of genuine curiosity. 

"Maybe."

"Where do you even keep them?"

"Places."

His brows shot up before he could even try and school his boyish reaction.

You gasped, "Don't be gross!"

"I didn't even say anything!" he chuckled, using the slim moment of distraction to grab your forearm. With one swift motion, he pulled it past the side of his head and held it against his shoulder, making you stumble forward. The knife fell with a soft clank. "Your mind went there."

"You were implying it!" you argued, the corner of your lip curling up. It was so small that if he hadn't been so close to you, he wouldn't have noticed.

Still, the twinkle in your eyes was unmistakable.

"Implying what?" he asked. "I mean, who knows where a woman keeps her knives."

You laughed.

For a stupid joke, you let out such a carefree laugh.

It made his heart do somersaults as it burst out of his chest and landed right at the palm of your hand.

To say you glowed would be an understatement—head thrown back, the corners of your eyes crinkling, a little scrunch of your nose with your smile so wide and breathtaking.

And for a moment, it didn't look like you had demons haunting you at night. It didn't look like you bore so much anger and pain in your well-being, valid yet all-consuming. It didn't look as if you had built so many walls around yourself, much less your heart.

For a moment, you looked so free of it all.

And at that moment, he couldn't hold it anymore.

For once ever since you first met, Bucky didn't let himself think too much. After everything that had happened, he'd always wanted to be in control from here on out. He always tried to plan everything, always trying to evaluate things before making the decisions—he always ran on logic.

Right now, he let his heart take the lead.

You were still smiling as your laugh turned to small chuckles, eyes shining as it settled back on him.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your waist.

He saw your smile dwindle, irises holding both shock, confusion and a touch of curiosity, your brows faintly knitting when he squeezed ever so softly.

But you didn't pull away.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe it was purely his imagination, but he was sure you stepped even closer.

Still, it gave him that sliver of hope. Just enough to give him courage, for him to cup your face with his right hand, your shaky breath warm against his thumb as he ghosted it over your lips.

You glanced at his lips before hurriedly moving back to his gaze, your eyes covered in many emotions but he didn't see any doubt in them. So he leaned in, so close he could count your eyelashes if he tried. His nose was brushing against the bridge of yours, foreheads touching as you leaned into his palm.

Then, he paused.

It was his way of giving you the choice—to walk away if you wanted to. His hold on you was featherlight. And even if it wasn't, there was no doubt how easily you could escape him with how skilled you were.

But you stayed.

You tilted your head up as your eyes fluttered closed, your lips just a hair's breadth away from his own.

Bucky closed the distance and kissed you.

Slow, careful, tentative, lips just gently pressed against yours.

You were still for a moment, and Bucky was sure you were about to push him back as your free hand moved to his chest, palm right above his erratically beating heart.

But then…

You kissed him back.

Bucky couldn't stop his smile, warm and giddy as a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

He wrapped his arm fully around you then, the hand on your cheek gently cupping the side of your neck, his thumb softly caressing your jaw.

You tilted your head, your arms slowly wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your lips moved with his.

God you tasted so sweet.

His knees nearly buckled when your fingers got lost in his hair, a groan deep in his throat when you tugged.

And Bucky wanted more.

Hands taking home on your hips, his thumbs found their way underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking circles on your warm and soft skin. Then, he walked you backward towards the ropes.

Yet as soon you touched the rubber foam, you gasped and pulled away.

Bucky only saw it momentarily, the shock on your face before he hit the ropes with a grunt, your warmth leaving him completely.

Only a second ago you were so close to him.

Now you were an arm's length away, the tip of the knife against his throat adding distance between you two.

Yet the moment he met your eyes, Bucky could tell you were much, much farther away than that—into a place well guarded that he would have difficulty reaching you.

His heart ached at how quick and high your walls got built in only a few seconds.

"Do that again and I'll kill you."

Bucky stepped forward, the tip of the blade touching his skin.

"You won't."

You narrowed your eyes. "Yeah? What makes you so confident?"

"The fact that you don't hate me."

Your hand lowered slightly, a look crossing your face for a split second before you raised the blade with a glare.

"The knife against your throat begs to differ."

"Then tell me." Another step forward, he challenged, "Why do you hate me?"

Your glare turned sharper than the knife you held at his throat, speaking through gritted teeth, "You know very well why I hate you."

"Is it because I've been an asshole to you?"

You shrugged.

"Or is it because I remind you of him?" he said, shaking his head when you shrugged again. "We look the same, but that's where the similarities end."

"You didn't know him," you argued.

"No. But I'm not him and deep down you know that," Bucky pushed back, watching as the blade moved away from him little by little. He could tell you didn't even notice that you were doing it, slowly pulling it away the more he got closer.

With so many emotions swimming in your eyes, Bucky could only imagine what battle was happening in your mind.

"So tell me, why do you hate me?" he asked, voice soft yet eyes determined as they never left yours.

"I already told you—"

"No. I want the real reason," he interrupted, tilting his head knowingly. "Or do you want me to guess?"

You scoffed, eyes rolling. "You don't know me enough."

"Maybe," Bucky hummed, taking another step closer.

Your blade managed to prick his skin then, the distance between you closing in. But he didn't care. All he cared about was getting past this hard exterior you'd been wearing for years that now, it was starting to feel like second skin.

"But you remind me of someone I know," he said.

"Really?" you gasped with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Fine, I'll bite. Who?"

"Me."

Bucky saw your features soften ever so slightly, that if he wasn't so close to you, if he wasn't actively looking for a sliver of your reaction, he would've missed it.

But the small chip against your walls only had you placing two more bricks to cover it.

"We are nothing alike," you growled, as you took a step, unknowingly pressing the knife harder on his skin.

Bucky could feel the smallest drop of blood trickle down his neck.

His eyes remained on you.

"Aren't we?" he challenged. "You have a hard time trusting anyone because you never know who you could truly trust. Yet the second you even have that reassurance you shut it down. You build your walls so high so no one could get to you, telling yourself that you're safer and more protected that way but I know it makes you feel lonely too. I know because I've been there."

He saw your fingers loosen around the hilt, your eyes glistening under the light despite your sharp glare.

"You have this guilt in your heart you can't quite shake off, despite knowing, deep down, it wasn't your fault. There's a small voice that's telling you that you deserve better, that you deserve to be granted kindness, that what you did was completely out of your hands and you deserve to forgive yourself, and that you deserve happiness. But as that voice gets louder, the guilt comes back tenfold because how could you think these things after what you've done?"

"Stop," you gritted, your fingers now starting to tremble.

"You push away any person who gets too close to you because of the things you've gone through. You think anyone who tries is only doing it to gain something. But you also can't control how you feel, that despite trying so hard to deny it, despite doing everything to list out cons, despite telling yourself they will only hurt you, reminding yourself that you should never give them that power, you can't stop it because it's just too fucking strong."

You shook your head angrily, trying so hard to deny it but Bucky could see your resolve start to crumble.

So he kept going.

"I'm tired of this game, doll," he said, softly. "I'm tired of masking what I truly feel for you with hate just because I'm scared."

The surprise that crossed your face was so quick he might as well have imagined it.

"You hate me," you pressed, as if saying it would cement it as truth. But he knew it was simply your way of denying it.

"Because the second you come to accept it, then it becomes real, right?"

He was done denying it.

"I hate the way you smile at everyone but me. I hate it when you laugh at everyone's stupid jokes because I want to be the one to make you laugh. I hate that every time you look at me it's always with anger and annoyance or maybe even disgust. But you know what?" he sighed, gesturing at you with a small smile. "I'll take anything you give me as long as you're looking at me.

"And fuck, you make me feel so weak with a simple look, what more if you did as much as smile at me? You could hurt me any time, break my heart as you wish, and it's terrifying because I know I would just let you without hesitation as long as I get to be this close to you even for a second. That's how crazy I am for you."

"Stop manipulating me," you pleaded, voice starting to shake.

"I'm not, doll," he confessed. "I'm just finally being honest with you. I'm finally being honest with myself."

"No! No," you denied angrily. "You're just playing with my emotions."

It broke Bucky's heart just how conflicted you look. But he knew it all steamed from fear.

You just didn't want to get hurt again.

"It's confusing, isn't it?" he continued. "How your heart skips a beat whenever they're near, how you want to be closer to them but your brain immediately shuts it down. You're not used to being vulnerable so you mask it with the best way you know how and the only thing you've known for most of your life: You fight. With insults, with glares, with harsh words it doesn't matter what it looks like as long as you're fighting it.

"But deep down you care and you just can't help it," he said, eyes never leaving yours just so you could see how much he meant his words. "I know I haven't been showing it in the best way but maybe that's because I've been trying to bury it so deep. But it doesn't even matter how many times I try and hide it because I care about you so fucking much it just keeps coming out anyway."

"Stop," you gritted yet your voice trembled, eyes glistening under the light as the knife slowly started to lower.

"I can't," he admitted, wholeheartedly and unabashedly. "I'm falling for you and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

The knife fell on the floor.

Bucky gently took your hand, squeezing it softly before he placed your palm right above his heart.

"I know you feel it too," Bucky said softly, slowly dropping to his knees in front of you.

To show you how he meant every single word he said by letting his guard down, showing vulnerability in hopes you'd meet him halfway.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Bucky whispered. "Tell me I'm the only one and I'll leave you alone. For good."

His heart skipped with hope as you reached for him, your fingertips brushing against his lips before you cupped his cheek.

Instinctively, he leaned against your touch. Gaze holding yours, he turned his head to press a soft kiss against your palm.

But then you pulled back with a gasp, eyes wide with panic as if he had stung you. 

You stepped back in haste, eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head frantically.

Before he could even say anything, you turned on your heel and rushed out of the gym, leaving Bucky kneeling on the ground—vulnerable and alone.

In the deafening silence, he could hear his heart break.

A stab from your knife would've hurt less.

•••

Everyone could sense the gloomy, gray cloud that followed you both.

He wasn't sure if anyone knew what transpired. Most of the team had merely looked confused about the whole thing. The only exception of the bunch was Natasha. Bucky had been met with her sympathetic eyes more than enough times for him to know you'd told her about what happened.

Still, everyone knew something happened.

How could they not when the usual loud arguments and nonstop bickering had now been reduced to the cold quietness?

It was such a glaring difference and Bucky was right at the center of it.

Your silence was far more painful than any of the spiteful words you'd thrown at him.

It wasn't for the lack of trying on his part. But how was he able to talk to you when you'd been so determined to avoid him?

The second you would even sense that he was nearby, you'd immediately leave the premises.

It was still the case as he entered the kitchen.

Sam was in the middle of telling a random story when your chair screeched, an excuse to leave tumbling out of your mouth before you hurriedly walked past Bucky and down the hall, the sound of your bedroom door shutting behind you.

You didn't even finish your breakfast, your bear coffee mug still half full. You left a toast that was barely eaten, the fading warmth of your presence and the lingering smell of your shampoo.

He didn't even hide his dejectedness as he prepared himself some coffee.

"You know, I'd take the arguing over this tense silence any day."

Bucky shot him a glare over his shoulder.

"What? I don't like seeing my friends looking like sad, kicked puppies," Sam simply said, eyeing him suspiciously when he took a seat across from him. "What did you do anyway?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Really? It's immediately my fault?"

"Hey, I'm just being observant," Sam elaborated. "When I mentioned your name she had this look on her face so…I'm assuming her mood has something to do with you."

"She didn't tell you anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Barely even said a word." 

Bucky frowned.

If Sam himself couldn't even get you to talk then it was only a testament to just how much things had been weighing on you.

While Bucky didn't regret telling you the truth, he wondered if there was a different way he could've done it. But then again, you were so stubborn. He had the assumption that no matter how he went about things, you would've reacted the same way.

"I just—" His frown deepened as he shook his head. "I told her how I feel about her."

"Buck…"

"I told her how I'm falling for her and she—" he sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand over his nose. "She walked away."

Sam was too stunned to speak—well, not enough to resist throwing in a little joke, apparently.

"Damn, she didn't catch you huh?"

"Why did I even bother," Bucky grumbled as he stood from his seat. 

"Hey! Come on, I'm kidding. Just wanted to cheer you up a little, man," Sam rushed, hands up in surrender before he shot him an honest smile. "But seriously, just give her time to process things. I'm sure her emotions are just as all over the place as yours."

Bucky nodded, sitting back down as he sipped his coffee and grimaced.

It didn't quite taste the same as how you made it.

•••

A week had gone by yet the clouds had no sign of dissipating any time soon.

Bucky had been respecting your space, knowing it was what you needed. But at the same time, he was scared that he might push you further away if he kept insisting.

Still, he missed you so fucking much.

His heart had been aching with longing when all he'd been able to do was simply catch glimpses of you.

It's been too long since Bucky had looked into your eyes, and the only time he had the chance to hear your voice was when it was far away, speaking to someone else. But there wasn't much he could do when you always found yourself leaving once he entered the room.

He could only watch as you walked away from Natasha as he stepped foot into the training room.

"Sam wasn't kidding with the looking like sad puppies part," the redhead teased when he got to her.

"Does he ever just…shut up?" Bucky sighed.

Natasha laughed, "It's all for the best of you. He's looking for reinforcement on how to fix this whole situation you'd got going on."

"Him and me both," he grumbled, eyes steady on you as you went down the hallway and disappeared into a corner. 

"You know, I never thought I'd get to see two of the most emotionally constipated people exist at the same time, let alone be in the same room," Natasha hummed, shrugging. "Well, almost the same room."

"Shut up," he muttered. With a sigh, he asked, "How is she?"

"Conflicted and confused, a little tired and everything in between. But otherwise?" Natasha offered him a reassuring smile. "She's doing okay."

Bucky wondered how much you'd been sleeping. He barely heard anything from you despite still being in the room next door. It was either you figured out how to enable the soundproofing through FRIDAY or your nightmares had finally stopped.

Despite hoping it was the latter, Bucky knew it most probably was the former.

"Do you think I did it wrong?" he asked, a sense of doubt and insecurity settling in his heart. Bucky knew you told Nat everything, so he didn't feel like he needed to elaborate on what he meant.

"Honestly? I don't think it would've changed much if you did it a different way," Natasha said, confirming what he'd already been thinking. "Feelings are difficult to deal with as it is. In both your cases, it's even more complicated given your past trauma, especially hers."

Bucky nodded.

He knew all of these already. But it felt nice to have that validation.

Still, maybe he read everything wrong. Maybe he got way too into his head and concocted an idea out of nothing.

Maybe you simply didn't feel the same.

"Don't worry. She's just processing things," Nat said with a knowing smile as if she read his mind. "She'll come around eventually."

When she probably knew you better than anyone else here at the compound, Bucky could do nothing more but trust her word.

But he wished you would just give him the chance to prove himself to you, to show you that you could trust him. Bucky would do anything you asked of him, would give everything to you—his loyalty, his care, his whole being. He just wanted to let you see that he was yours, utterly and completely for the taking.

Bucky just needs that one chance.

The thing with the universe? It has quite an interesting way of granting what you wish for.

Bucky never expected his wish to be granted in the most cliché way possible.

•••

Things were not looking good.

He supposed, finding the nest and beating it with a stick—or in this case, heavy artillery and super-powered individuals—was never going to be good.

The fucking cockroaches in the form of HYDRA agents wouldn't stop appearing.

"Buck! Five more coming your way from the east wing!"

He grabbed an agent by the collar and threw him at full force towards the other one, both of them falling on the ground alongside the dozen he'd already taken care of. Bucky then turned towards the east wing hallway, ready to take on more only to find it empty. Yet in that split second of confusion, he was able to dodge the bullet hurtling towards him from behind.

Bucky rolled his eyes when he turned the other way and met the agents Steve was warning him about. "That's the west wing, punk!"

"Do you even know your left and right, Steven?" 

"Probably not. At least you know my in and out, Natalia."

There was a collective protest of disgust over the connected comms, and Bucky wholeheartedly agreed with everyone.

"You've corrupted America's sweetheart, Romanoff. I hope you're happy," he teased, grabbing an agent by the collar and slamming them against the wall. 

"Oh I am absolutely ecstatic."

"Loving the chit chat guys! If you have spare time I could use some assistance!"

Bucky was immediately on high alert at the sound of your voice, struggling and out of breath. His heart picked up the pace when you yelped.

"Where are you?!" he demanded, shooting an agent in the leg before hitting the side of their head with the butt of his gun.

You didn't say anything.

"Frost!" he gritted, slightly annoyed because he knew you were hesitating simply because it was him. "Location!"

You hissed, a gunshot, before you finally answered, "Outside the right exit."

"Hang in there. I'm headed your way."

Knocking out two more agents to the ground, Bucky immediately ran towards the exit.

•••

You were surrounded by a couple agents when he got there.

Cars were around the area, the black, armored vehicles a stark contrast to the white snow. They likely would've used them to get away if you hadn't gotten to them first. There were two agents to your right, three to your left who were closer to Bucky, and a man in a lab coat standing in front of you.

All of them were armed except the scientist.

All of them were aiming at you.

Bucky assumed that the only reason why nobody had opened fire was because of the gun you were pointing at the scientist's head. He recognized him as the same person who got away on the last mission.

So this definitely was someone very important to HYDRA.

Thankfully, they hadn't noticed him yet. He was glad he didn't come through guns blazing like he actually thought of doing. When it was you in danger, it took a while for his rational mind to function. Either way, he was glad for the extra time to think of a game plan.

While assessing the situation, he noticed you hugging your left arm to your chest. A white cloth was wrapped around your forearm, probably some poor man's lab coat. But he could see that your blood had already soaked through. There were a couple of cuts on your cheeks and a bruise forming on your lower lip. But you didn't seem fazed by it. If anything, you simply looked angrier.

"You haven't changed much at all, printsessa," the man taunted, hurriedly raising both hands when you clicked your safety off. "Oh sorry, my bad. Luka simply called you that too often. I was beginning to think it was your name."

"Still jealous he considered me more as his right-hand man than you, I assume?" you said, voice leveled despite your state. But then again, you were highly skilled. It wasn't a surprise that you'd be able to keep yourself calm under pressure. "You know, I always thought you were kinda in love with him, Dominik."

"Zakroy svoy gryaznyy rot, ty bespoleznaya suka!" the man hissed.

Shut your filthy mouth, you useless bitch.

Bucky was ready to throttle the man right then and there. But he waited. He figured he needed to find a way to alert you he was here as discreetly as he could.

"We were partners," Dominik boasted, taking a daring step closer to you. "He wouldn't have gotten close to cracking the code with those serums without my help. You wouldn't be where you are today if it wasn't for me."

You rolled your eyes. "Gee, thanks. I appreciate it."

Bucky carefully moved behind the parked vehicles. When he reached the one beside this Dominik guy, your gaze flickered over to him for a split second. Bucky raised his gun, ready to shoot until you every so subtly shook your head. Then, without as much as a wince even though he knew how it hurt, you brought your injured arm down to your side, hands open to show five fingers.

He immediately knew what you were doing.

"It wasn't me who was in love with him," the man smugly said. "Though, foolish of you to believe he loved your back."

Four.

"I wouldn't call infatuation love but what do you know about that." You shrugged, tilting your head with a grin. "At least I wasn't sleeping alone in my bed jerking off to my lab partner at night. Quite pathetic if you ask me."

Three.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Dominik taunted with a sarcastic laugh. "What is given can easily be taken away."

You scoffed, "What is it with you guys and these riddles?"

Two.

"It takes a great mind to understand these—"

One.

You shot Dominik in the chest while Bucky took down the three agents near him. You immediately turned to shoot the last two before he could react, but not without taking a graze on your thigh.

Bucky rushed to you in long strides, fussing over your form. "Shit. Let me see."

"I'm fine," you insisted, hissing when you did as much as move your arm and your leg.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn. I—"

The movement behind you caught Bucky's eye. When he saw the barrel of a gun, he immediately pulled you behind him.

Bucky shot Dominik in the head with no hesitation.

When he turned back to you, he felt confused.

You looked panicked.

Bucky cupped your face hastily, worry seeping into his bones once he saw the tears brimming in your eyes.

"You okay?"

Bucky blinked.

Why did his voice sound like he was underwater?

You nodded frantically, your uninjured hand pressed against his stomach. He saw your lips move but he couldn't hear you. This dull ringing in his ears was preventing him. With knitted brows, he tried blinking away the haze that covered his eyes, a slight fog muddling his brain as he tried to decipher what was going on.

When you pressed harder on his stomach, Bucky glanced down.

Your hand was covered in blood.

His blood.

And when he met your fear-covered eyes, he wiped away the tears that ran down your cheeks, barely recognizing his own voice telling you he was going to be okay.

It was the last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him.

•••

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he lost consciousness over a wound. When he healed fast, it was rare to come by. He also didn't remember ever feeling so groggy after a few hours of sleep.

Despite the ache in his whole body, the first thing he realized was how heavy his right arm felt. He obviously remembered what happened so he was sure his injury wasn't anywhere near there.

Glancing down, the heart monitor beeped a little faster at the sight of you.

You were practically cuddling his whole forearm.

Eyes closed with your hand in his, your cheek pressed against his skin, you were hunched over his bedside table, fast asleep.

You looked so adorable and peaceful.

Even with the bandages that covered your face, even with that little drool escaping your parted lips.

"She hasn't left that chair in a while."

Bucky's head snapped toward the direction of the voice, finding Steve leaning against the door frame with a knowing smile.

"Well, apart from Nat dragging her out to eat and take a shower," he added, closing the door behind him as he walked towards the opposite side of the bed.

Bucky frowned at that.

He couldn't have been in the med bay for that long, right?

"You were out for two weeks, bud," Steve answered as if reading his mind.

"What?" He stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. But he only gave him a sad smile. Bucky shook his head. "But the serum—"

"Well, if it weren't for the serum you would've already been dead," Steve said grimly. "The bullet was laced with some poison. Banner ran some tests on it and he suspects it's designed to neutralize any fast healing and to kill the person immediately. But since the blood they probably tested it on didn't have the full super soldier serum, it only affected you mildly. So you were healing slower than usual but still faster than most humans."

A shadow crossed his face. "So you mean if the bullet had gotten her—"

"She would've been killed on the spot."

Bucky nodded grimly, eyes landing on you.

"Good thing I took it for her then, huh," he hummed, squeezing your hand that was placed in his. He couldn't help his concern about your position though. "Her back is going to kill her."

"Yeah well, every day I've been trying to take her place so she can rest properly for a few hours. Wouldn't budge," Steve said, smiling. "She's almost as stubborn as you."

Bucky shook his head with a chuckle, "Maybe I can see some similarities."

He tried reaching for you with his left arm but he couldn't. Then he saw the prosthetic lying down on the bench, now shiny and devoid of any dirt or the blood of his enemies—as dramatic as that sounds. But they were on the battlefield the last time he used it.

"Cleaned that herself, too," Steve said when he caught where he was looking for it. "Do you want me to—"

"Please." Bucky nodded, heat covering his cheeks when the heart monitor started beating loudly again due to the somersaults his heart was doing.

After helping him put his arm back on and handing him a glass of water, Steve called in Dr. Cho. Once she was done with her round of check-ups, the rest of the team slowly filtered in and out to check up on him. All of them spoke in hushed tones when he shot them a glare when their voices got too loud. It was a task to eat a sandwich—which Steve gave him—with one hand, but he managed.

Because even with all the commotion happening, you were still asleep.

It could mean you were a heavy sleeper by nature, you were extremely tired given the situation, or both.

Bucky was also inclined to think you were a cuddly person when you never let go of his arm. He didn't even care if the muscles were dead asleep at this point.

When the sky started to tint orange, and his room had gone quiet after they finally left him alone with you, Bucky couldn't help it. He found himself stroking your face as softly as he could with a smile painted on his lips.

You were here, bearing the uncomfortable position because you cared.

It was then you started to stir.

He remained still and watched your eyes slowly blink open. Brows furrowed, you reached for some tissues on his nightstand, wiping away your drool with a curse. 

You never let go of his hand when you did so. And you also didn't notice that he was watching you fuss around, mumbling how embarrassing it was to drool like some dog.

He couldn't stop his chuckle.

You jumped at the sound, eyes wide when they landed on him.

Blinking once, twice, you blurted,

"You're awake."

"You're awake."

You tried to pull your hand away but Bucky only held it a little tighter.

"Hi," he murmured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"How long have you been watching me sleep?" you joked, eyes refusing to look at him.

Bucky tilted his head, grinning. "Not as long as you have, apparently."

You shot him a glare before turning away. He noticed your gaze settle on his stomach, the blanket covering his legs barely hiding the bandage that was wrapped around it.

"You shouldn't have done that," you said.

The corner of his lips quirked up, head tilting to try and catch your eyes. 

"A 'thank you' would be nice," he teased, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering. And I'd do it again without question."

You nodded, lip caught between your teeth as you let out a shaky sigh. It took five seconds for you to meet his eyes.

His heart ached at the sadness and worry along with a few specks of guilt that coated your irises. He could only imagine what you went through with the whole thing.

Steve told him how you didn't want to let him go when the rest of the team finally came to help. The captain got scared out of his kind when the first thing they saw was you crying over Bucky's body lying on the snow, the white ground tainted with his blood. It took Wanda having to use her powers to hold you back for just a few seconds so they could get him into the Quinjet. You didn't leave his side the whole journey home, still crying.

It must've shaken the whole team because they have never seen you cry.

When they finally got him into the med bay and had to roll him into surgery, you put up a fight again and obviously, you were winning. So they unfortunately had to sedate you. They used that time to patch you up as well.

Then you waited two weeks for him to wake up.

If you felt the same as he did, Bucky didn't even want to think how scared you must've been.

He sure as hell would have acted much worse if the roles were reversed.

"Thank you for saving my life, Bucky," you whispered, voice vulnerable but not any less sincere.

His heart skipped the sound of his name falling from your lips.

It was the first time you had called him by that name and God did it feel like a finally.

Bucky shook his head with a smile, interlacing your fingers together.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

You nodded with a grateful smile, one that faded as you regarded him, guilt now swimming in your eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, confused.

It took you a few seconds before you spoke again.

"I know I hurt you that night," you elaborated. "When I walked away."

"It's okay—"

You shook your head vehemently, "It's not."

"It is," he insisted, tugging you out of your seat, pulling you closer so that he was able to cup your face and wipe away the stray tear on your cheek.

"I just—I got so scared," you let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. "Everything was just so overwhelming a-and there were so many things happening in my head and it kept arguing with my heart. I just—I wanted to trust you, I wanted tobelieve you but I'm just so scared to get hurt again because everything I felt for you was just too strong. I didn't want to lose control of it in case it's only going to end badly. It would kill me. But still, it's not an excuse to hurt you and then ignore it—ignore you for weeks. I could've just handled it like a normal fucking person—"

"Hey, hey," he interrupted softly, taking your face in both his hands. "It's okay. I know, doll. I understand you, remember?"

You nodded with shaky deep breaths, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, not pulling his touch away but simply holding it there.

It made his heart warm. 

"I don't like saying you're right." you let out a teary chuckle. 

Bucky laughed at that, "It doesn't happen often."

You nodded, smiling timidly. "Let me make it up to you?" 

"Yeah?" he hummed, grinning. "How are you going to do that?"

"How about dinner?" you asked shyly.

He couldn't help the smug smirk that played on his lips.

"Are you asking me out?"

You groaned, trying to pull away.

"Hey! Nope, you stay here," he chuckled, scooting a little to the side before tugging your hand so you would sit beside him. You did, and he immediately wrapped an arm around your waist. "So, are you asking me out or not?"

"Can you stop—"

"It's a simple yes or no, doll."

"Yes," you grumbled, rolling your eyes when his grin widened. "Don't get used to it, Barnes."

"I would be honored to go out with you," he said with a teasing tone but with a sincere smile before tilting his head knowingly. "But since I'm bed-bound, can I ask something in advance to make me feel better?"

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his request. "What?"

"A kiss."

"Really?" You rolled your eyes, yet the smile on your lips widened.

He groaned suddenly, clutching his stomach with his left arm.

"Shit! Are you okay?" you asked frantically, checking him over as worry colored your face.

"It hurts," he whimpered. "Jumping in front of a bullet for a girl you're falling for really hurts and she won't even give me a kiss to make me feel better."

You froze.

Then, you smacked him on the arm.

"Jesus Christ," he chuckled, rubbing his skin which barely even stung. "Have you no sympathy, woman?"

"Asshole," you muttered.

He pouted with his best puppy eyes. "Why are you so mean—"

Bucky wasn't able to finish his sentence when you more or less shut him up with a kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his again was like a huge breath of relief. It was soft and sweet, unhurried yet still a little careful. But it wasn't short of all the emotions you wanted to convey, the appreciation and adoration, your gratefulness to the utmost care you could muster. All the things that you still weren't ready to voice out loud you poured into the kiss.

Bucky did the exact same thing as he tilted his head, moving his lips against yours in a sweet caress as he held your face in his hand to be closer.

"You look so cute when you're worried," he hummed once you pulled away for air, nudging your nose with his.

"And you're more insufferable than I thought," you muttered, rolling those pretty eyes of yours.

Bucky was now starting to see the action as something affectionate. 

"You like that about me," he said smugly.

You sighed in feigned dejection. "Unfortunately."

Bucky only kissed you again in response.

Of all the times he had wondered about ways to just get you to shut up during your random arguments, this was definitely at the top. And while he hoped for it to be the case, his expectations were quite low. He never thought it was actually going to be a reality, especially with how you two were with each other.

Yet look at him now, grinning from ear to ear with your lips pressed against his.

Bucky knew things weren't going to be smooth sailing from here on out. There were still a lot of conversations to be had. You two still had your issues that needed working through, whether that was individually or together.

You were definitely still going to bicker, it simply seemed like it was part of your dynamic. Albeit this time, it'd be more out of affection than animosity.

But as he pulled away and was met by the hopeful glow on your face and the adoration in your eyes that reflected his, he knew that no matter what, this was where he needed to be—with you.

Bucky knew that through thick and thin, through the fire that would light you both aflame, the ups and downs, through spring, summer, fall, Winter and Frost—

You two will be okay.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can!

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[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥{minors, ageless, blank blogs dni} cw: f!reader; corruption kink; virgin!gojo; he's a perv and bully; sub gojo; dacryphilia 

remember when I said sub!gojo is on my mind ~ it got me thinking about pervy satoru (who is a bit of a bully), who constantly looks down on you for being so uptight & makes the most inappropriate comments about all the ways he can loosen you up. he thinks he's the shit but mostly just likes getting under your skin.

that is until you snap and catch him off guard by giving him a taste of his own medicine. he sits on the sofa with eyes like saucers, watching you pull off your jacket and tug off your shirt with irritation, before unclasping your bra and throwing it over his shoulder.

his cheeks are so red when you crawl over his obnoxiously long body, keeping his frozen frame pinned underneath you. those pretty, pretty eyes fall to your chest and he blinks like he can't believe what he's seeing.

“you're all bark and no bite, huh? just as I thought..." you mock, as his confidence shrivels under the heat of your gaze when you straddle yourself on him.

you can't help but laugh at his reaction, "come on, then," you tease with a condescending tone, "you're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before"

his silence speaks volumes, the flush of red deepening on his neck and blooming underneath his cheeks. he swallows hard, a glossy sheen coating his blue eyes as he averts his gaze.

"you have seen a woman naked before, right?" you press on with a quirk of your amused brow.

he clears his throat with shame, unable to even meet your eyes. why are you even surprised, you think? the man is insufferable. who would want to crawl into bed with him?

your fingers touch his chin, and you tilt his face to meet yours. you bite your bottom lip with curiosity knowing that you have all the ammunition in the world to turn the tables on him. he's on the verge of bursting in to tears...but there are so many other ways that you might enjoy putting him in his place.

you think back to all the times he boasted on his exceptional dick game. talking about scenarios that seem ludacris almost, only now you realize he was probably just spitting out the plot lines of all his favorite pornos and pretending like they were his own experiences.

for once you actually find him handsome, a softness and vulnerability masking over his features and highlighting only perfection. your hand slowly trails down his chest, and the space between your legs flutters when you touch the surface of hard muscle. you can hear his breath stammer, his eyelashes fluttering as you use your nails to lightly scratch over his biceps. you finally circle your arm around his wrist, directing his hand up and placing his palm on top of your breast.

"you can touch me," you inform him with a honeyed voice and a devilish grin, “I’ll allow it.”

"r-really?" he asks with a slight warble of his voice, and the way his eyebrows upturn reveal only sheer innocence.

you thread your fingers through his hair before brushing them against his undercut. "if you behave, that is."

he nods his head, squeezing his grip over your mound. "you’re so soft..."

you giggle, your ego flaring of having him wrapped around your finger. you deliberately arch your back to rub your ass over his bulge. "well, I can't say the same for you..." you taunt, as you draw out a pitiful whimper.

his other hand finds your breast, his thumbs rubbing over your taut nipples that he swipes over a few times, falling into the haze of lust, he starts to lean closer to your chest, parting his lips absentmindedly.

still lightly massaging the back of his head, you watch as he stops himself before lifting his chin to look at you, "c-can I?"

"someone's eager..."

"please?" he begs, "I'll...I'll behave."

you cup his face in the palm of your hands, your thumb smoothing over his pretty pink lips. "that's a good boy," you coo, "if you play your cards then I might just let you fuck me too."

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕾𝖊𝖙 𝖁𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: What if I combined them all into one, for maximum efficiency? I blame this one, @kit-williams and this one, @barn-anon for this.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, NonCon and Dubcon, Baby Trapping, Drug, Yandere Themes, Death, Body Horror, Cannibalism.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter II}

Blasius slowly turns his head to the side from his crouched position. His mouth opening for a better scent thread as he sniffs the air heavily and chuffs.

So soon? He shakes his head, rising from his crouched position. Casting a shadow over the broken body below him. Such an eager little mate.

Glancing back down at the mauled body. Blasius brings forth an main appendage between his armor plates and licks the warm crimson staining his gauntlet. Savoring how rotten it tasted. Something he had almost forgotten about. How atrocious some could be, hopeless and decaying.

Something his little mate was not. Unlike this waste of flesh below him, unable to bring his little mate what she wanted. What she craved for. He can see it in her eyes, in her scent. How could this one not?

He was ignorant of course, too witless to acknowledge her effort. Too endorsed in his time running away from the nest and coming back smelling like another. His little mate was distressed when she figured out what he was doing. Yet, she still believed that he had some “good” left in him. Putting more of her dedication to prove that she was the worthy mate, when it was the other way around.

This false male was the unworthy one of breathing in the same air as his little mate. Undeserving of her attention, her love, her gifts and lingering touches of her commission of fidelity. It drove him crazy that she wasn’t paying attention to him as she poured her devotion into this male who uses her as a side trophy.

He wanted to give his little mate all that he had to offer. He wanted to return that love and attention she put on that failure of a human. He wanted to gift her all the things she found an interest in, but never acted upon it. Craving for that male to gift it to her, to acknowledge her. He wanted to provide what the male would not, could not.

It was no secret this man was a disappointment to any female that he encounters. He can hear the difference between the real and the fake moan’s his little mate does when they are coupled together or how his little mate has to take care of herself afterwards. Having yet to climax herself, but the male was also a disappointment by being infertile. Not that his little mate knows of that.

It is one of the reasons she has gotten a toy however, to sedate her ever growing desires. To finally have something to finish her off and at first, he wanted to rip the toy to shreds. Watch it decay beneath his fingertips, but he stops mid-way of finding the silicone c*ck in her closet. Realizing this singular tool has had a lot more to it than just for making his little mate climax on it.

So, he puts it back in its place where he found it. Leaving it to his little mates next use.

Blasius hums deeply as the appendix of the open body below him bursts, a quiet wheeze coming out of the mouth of the body as it splatters against his greaves. A mix of puss and blood inching down his armor to his sabatons. Another appendage coming out between his plating near his knee to clean up the mess the weak, organic body had made. 

He uses another main appendage to reach inside the cut opening in the males body, pushing underneath his sternum and ribs, providing wet sounds and a squelch each time the appendage slips underneath another rib. Reaching the top of the body’s rib cage, he digs the appendage downwards between the lungs and wraps around the windpipe and tugs. A sickening squelch-like pop sounding out. 

Pulling his appendage back to him. He wraps the rest of his appendage around the organ and lifts it up to his face, observing it. Sniffing it before he rumbles lowly in refusal. Whipping the rotten lung away with his appendage. Hearing it splat somewhere else.

That was not something he would preferably eat. Healthy organs are the better route of eating, they taste better. Saccharine even. They envelop the tongue like thick wine. Not that he found eating humans was a satisfactory, just a tasteful treat. He found far better sweets in this world to sedate his hunger than he would in his own world, but that rotted lung wouldn't give him the treat he was looking for.

Perhaps, his liver would work better? They were always far cleaner than the rest of the body’s he’s taken a snack on before. Maybe a little bitter with their alcohol consumption, but that doesn't deter him, he’s had worse before. If anything, that marinates more flavor into the organ.

Sliding his appendage between the body’s ribs and organs again. Wet sounds followed while he wraps his appendage around the liver twice. Pushing the other organs aside and over the opening of his torso and stomach. Feeling how the male's organs still pulsed with life. His dull eyes still staring up at his figure. A mule this one was.

With a particularly harsh tug, the body’s liver popped out with a sickening crack of his rips flying apart. His sternum breaking in half as bone shards littered inside and outside of the blood spewing body. The dirt drinking up the body’s lifeline like desert sands would do to water.

Blasius purrs quietly, approving of this body’s liver as he sniffs it. His mouth opening to wrap his tongue around the organ and lay it in his mouth before squeezing it with his tongue. Feeling it pop in his mouth and splatter before he chews, savoring the taste and the memory’s it came with it.

At least, the memories with his little mate in them. Ranging from how sweet his little mate was and how remarkable she was. Offering her food, her home to this male. Never blowing up on him when she clearly wanted to. Some of the many things that he hates the male for, but that was not a matter anymore.

Nurgle, and the intercourses with her. He knows he could have done way better than this male, but to envision her nude and submissive before him? His appendages began to salivate, including his mouth.

The things he would love to do to her.

Her scent wafts over him as he swallows hard. Shivering as his appendages become eager, desiring, and aching. Pushing up against his armor almost painfully. Telling him he wasn’t actually envisioning her scent of her arousal at all. This was real.

He takes a step away from the mutated body, not looking back as his appendages inside of him twitch in anticipation. Those wild packs of wolves that roam around here should eat the rest of the body up like nothing by tomorrow's dusk. Leaving absolutely no trace of him to be found.

Blasius uses his appendages to clean the rest of his armor off to temporarily relieve their eagerness to come out while he slowly follows his little mates arousal back to her nest. He knows has some time to get there before she climaxes and he must be presentable to his little mate after all. He knows how… unnerving he could look.

He hears her soft moans before he even enters into the nest. His senses heightened to seek her out through her strong arousal that begged him to fill his little mate as he inhales deeply, leaning down through the front door.

Nurgle, he is here little mate. He is here to provide. Let him provide for you.

He hears her cry out in ecstasy and that makes him move a bit faster through the house. Holding his breath as he moves swiftly between furniture. Quickly, opening the door and lean down through it to his little mates nesting spot.

The first thing he sees is her riding the false c*ck up and down into her core at a fast pace. Her skin glistening with sweat at all the effort to make herself climax. Her heated breaths staining her own skin as she moans out again, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

He rumbles quietly and takes side steps into the grounds of his little mates nest. Watching as she chased that high. Kneeling down to the ground in front of her bed. Observing how her folds fluttered around the c*ck. Her muscles constricting around it as she cried out. Her juices leaking down the c*ck.

Yet, she doesn’t turn on the toy? Isn’t that what it was for? To fill her up her womb? Isn’t that what she wanted?

So, he turns on the toy instead, a gasp escaping his little mate as the toy pumps his c*m into her. Selection by selection, until there was nothing left in the toy.

Unfortunate, no worries. He has more to provide.

She makes a move to get up from the false c*ck, but he growls. His appendages coming out, spooking his little mate as he takes her by the hip and pushes her back down on the fake c*ck. Watching as she squirms on it, his c*m leaking around the edges from her hole and down the false c*ck.

He didn’t get drug from that questionable Ultramarine for no reason.

She whines at him, and as much as he would love to hear her cry out to him. He sticks an enthusiastic appendage down her throat. Silencing her cry’s as he shoves moves her shifting hips back down onto the false c*ck again.

Shhh, little mate. Let me take care of you. Your… partner won’t be around anytime soon to please your needs like I will. To caress your skin like I will. To protect you like I will. To provide to you like I will.

To have yours and mine procreation.