#[ drabble ]

[catbolt]

— SYLUS HEADCANONS

random assorted hcs for my man (fluff, 18+)

would be really into sending you sweaty post-gym bathroom mirror selfies

he thinks it's hot watching you put makeup on and so likes to watch you get ready to go out even if he's not coming with you. you get flustered a little with him just standing by your vanity in silence. "what, is it a crime to watch my beautiful girlfriend get ready for her girls night? then take me to jail. i'll just break out again."

ALWAYS has his hand on the small of your back if you're going literally anywhere it's like an unconscious habit

wears glasses for working or reading but keeps misplacing them so he has like 20 pairs floating around the house at any given time

would be excited when you get your nails done and always wants to help you pick a color/nail art design

very into pet names, always calls you "little dove, little bird, my dove, my flower, honey" etc.

is really bad at putting in contact lenses (dont ask me why i think this but i just know he has to use two hands and then drops them in the sink half the time)

he's a biter during sex and aftercare is kissing and licking every bite (it's the dragon talking)

he def has a size kink and likes being bigger than you. he would so pick you up to get stuff off the top shelf even when he could get it himself just because he likes picking you up

he says "honey i'm home" when he gets home bc he's corny like that

god at parallel parking

sings in the shower so loudly that it's audible throughout half the mansion

would be an audiophile/into really expensive headphones and speaker setups and would make you test out all his different headphones to try and find the most optimal setup for his music. "what do you mean moving the speaker two inches to the right doesn't make any difference, sweetheart? are your ears working correctly?"

sleeptalks about business when he's stressed which is always how you can tell if he's more stressed out than he's letting on

doesn't use instagram except to send you cat videos

always feeds you bites of his food off his fork to try anytime you're out at a restaurant

[raccoonrobyn-imagines]

Dick immediately crumbles and scoops up the kid. He does question in his mind on how this kid knows what he would like his kid to call him, but knows that this kid needs him.

"It's ok baby, we're not mad or anything, we just need to figure out where you came from, ok?" Dick soothes, his big brother instincts kicking in instantly. He is rewarded by the new kid purring and nuzzling into him.

"I came from the GIW Tata, I had to run and I saw you, and I knew you'd keep me safe. They hurt me so bad Tata, it still hurts, Im so scared, why are they still calling me an it, why do they wanna hurt me, I didn't do anything wrong, I just wanted to be safe, I'm sorry Tata, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." the young teenager continues to whimper out "I'm sorry" for a bit, and Dick is instantly glaring at Damian and Jason, gesturing with his head for them to leave the room.

"It's ok baby, I've got you. No one will hurt you while I'm here." Dick soothes.

It had only been a few hours since the glowing entity had sunk into Nightwings shadow while he was on patrol. So far, his symptoms were mild but concerning.

Batman had wrapped his eldest son in a big blanket as he shivered violently. Taking the thermometer out of his mouth, it showed he wasn't running a fever, but his temperature wasn't running any lower than normal either.

Which was odd since Dicks lips were blue.

"Do we have results on the blood samples?"

-Not much.- Red Robin answered through the coms, -this stuff is kinda like Lazarus water but only vaguely. If Ras is involved he's changed up the formula a lot-

Bruce looked down at his son, usually this would be the point where he would make a quip or joke of some sort, but there was nothing. Only his face contorting as his emotions swang to one extreme to the next, his eyes periodically flashing Lazarus green...

Aka Danny is badly injured and in his panic he sees Nightwing and thinks, "Safety" and that the hero wouldn't mind, so he burrows his way into Nightwings shadow to basically go into hibernation to fix himself.

Who could have possibly guessed that a super powerful entity forcibly entering someone's subconscious and staying there would have massive mental and physical consequences? Not Danny, apparently.

[cod-dump]

A video received by Price while out on a mission:

*shaky camera movement as Graves stomps around the house* "Got-damn Europeans." *camera pans to thermostat* "It is negative 8 degrees out! Celsius! I'm wearing three layers and he-" *camera pans to window, outside of which Nikolai is in the yard in a swimsuit, reclined on a beach chair, beer in hand. Nikolai raises his mug in a toast* "-He's ready for a swim! Unbelieveable!"

(Graves is a southerner, those people CANNOT handle the cold. I've seen it get to 90F in March in the deep south.)

Nik absolutely handles the cold like a champ but he's c also committed to the bit. Driving Graves insane is his new favorite pastime and if walking around outside, in the snow, with shorts and sunglasses does the job? He's doing it.

[angelovi]

Simon that goes feral after seeing you wear his dog tags.

"Hm what's that you're wearing love? Those my dog tags?"

You give him a supple nod in return, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

"Where'd you find that hm?" He approaches you slowly with a smirk plastered on his face.

"I found it on your desk.. didn't think you'd mind.." You try your best to sound confident, yet you fail miserably.

He holds your chin between his two fingers, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. "I ever tell you how gorgeous you look?"

"Everyday." You gaze up at him, your innocence showing.

"Good," he whispers softly, his breath warm against your skin, before closing the distance between you and drawing you into a kiss.

Lifting you gently by your thighs, he carries you with ease to the warmth of your shared bedroom. As he crosses the threshold, the soft glow of the lighting wraps around you both. He sets you down on the plush fabric of the bed, the comforting texture embracing you as you sink into it.

In a swift motion, he pulls off his pants, the fabric pooling on the floor, and then settles onto the bed beside you, his skin warm against the sheets. An idea flickers in his eyes, and a light smirk crosses his face.

“Need to see you ride me.” He guides you to straddle him, before slipping your shirt off and pushing your panties to the side, bullying himself in. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp as he moves fervently, showing no signs of slowing down.

He gazes his eyes to the dog tag that's wrapped around your precious neck.

The atmosphere in the room thickens with a mix of hushed gasps and soft moans. Simon's heavy breathing cuts through the tension as pleasure envelopes him, growing more urgent.

“Tell me how good it feels love.”

As you near the edge, words struggle to get out, the only thing audible is your gasps.

“C’mon. Use your words,” he grunts out.

“Feels so fucking good Simon. Don't stop..” your words are followed by a whimper, your legs getting tired as you struggle to bounce on his massive size.

Noticing your struggle, he flips you over and mercilessly pounds you into the bed, aiming to finish you both off.

“That’s it, angel. Right there. Fuck you're so perfect.” he intertwines his fingers with yours, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before resuming his thrusts.

As soon as you start cumming, Simon doubles his efforts, reaching his hand down to rub your swollen clit. He feels you tighten around him, legs trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck, look at you.” he slows his movements, pulling out after he fills you up.

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart.” he spreads your legs a little more, positioning his face between them, planting a little kiss on your clit. He smirks as he maintains eye contact, his tongue darting out to tease your clit with a tight touch, circling it slowly.

His movements speed up, eventually adding his index and middle finger, slowly curling it to hit that perfect spot that makes you see stars.

You moan even louder than before, not even worrying about the neighbors. “More…” you manage to utter, your voice barely rising above a whisper as you use your last bit of resilience.

“Greedy little thing ain't ya?” his fingers move faster, deeper, as he maintains the intense abuse on your clit.

You throw your head back in pure ecstasy as you've officially been fucked dumb.

His fingers pump in and out of you ruthlessly, curling up periodically. He can feel you getting ready to cum again. He looks up at your thrown-back head, his mind racing with more ideas. “Turn over.”

He quickly flips you over into your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He spreads your legs apart slightly, exposing your cunt. He spits on it, using his thumb to rub the saliva around your entrance.

He lines himself up with your dripping pussy, rubbing the thick head teasingly along your slit.

He pushes forward slightly, stretching you open as he sinks inside. “Fuck you're so tight, baby girl.” he pauses, letting you adjust to his size once more before starting to thrust slowly.

The dog tags jingle as he pounds into you, grabbing your hips tightly and pulling you back onto him with each powerful thrust. “Such a good girl.”

He reaches around and rubs your clit in firm circles, tormenting it further. “I can feel your little cunt gripping me. You gonna cum angel?”

Seeing you nod, he leans over, pressing his muscular chest against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Then cum for me sweet girl.”

He growls deeply, feeling your pussy convulse around his cock as you cum. As he finishes emptying himself inside you, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and nuzzling into your neck. “You’re so perfect.”

He kisses your neck softly, holding you close as his cum leaks out of your spent cunt. As he whispers comforting words into your ear, you feel yourself dozing off, completely spent from the night’s actions.

Simon smiles softly, adjusting you so you're comfortable against his chest. He pulls the blanket over the both of you, ensuring you're warm. A hand cups the back of your head, rubbing soothingly in your hair, making sure you feel safe.

“Sweet dreams, love. I got you.”

Proud of this one ngl

[dollsxcaptains]

A/N: I haven't written NSFW in a looooong while so please bear with me as as I try and improve. Thank you boo....

Content warning: Degradation, un-protected sex, blowjobs, cumshot, masturabation

MDNI 18+

꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦

Dick Grayson is a filthy frat boy at heart and you cannot change my mind on that. While I think that most times he tries to be a tamed and very loving partner, his inner fuck boy can't help but to jump out every now and again. It usually happens after missions where he's gone for a month on end and he's super pent up.

He'd fuck like a rabid dog that's in heat and desperate to release every last drop of sperm left in his aching body. I can imagine him finishing inside of you a couple of times first. Your pretty cunt is clenched around his fat cock as he rails you deep into the mattress. It's a wonder on how the bed hasn't collapsed yet with how hard he's going at it. He'd forced your body to contort in ways you had no idea you could just so he could make sure his dick was reaching every inch inside of you...What a sight it is to have your ass so high in the air as your back perfectly arches from the high of the orgasm... he has no regard for how sore and tired you are when he's like this. At most you'll have moments to recover before he's ready for the next round.

"baby, darling, love," turned into "slut, whore, bitch," as all his usual chivalry was thrown out the door the moment you spread yourself for him.

Don't even think you're getting out of this witch him slapping and spitting in your face like you're the scum of the earth. Seriously when I say he frat boy,,,I mean it. You're just a sex doll for him to jack himself off with.

But just when you thought he wouldn't let your poor abused pussy rest, he removes himself from inside of you and stands up off the bed...

with a swift motion of his fingers, he commands you to come to the edge of the bed where he's at.

You're laying just off the side of the bed while he stands over your perfect body. With one hand he gently cups your face and guides it so that now you were looking up at him. Grayson's face is flushed with a bright red and his breathing is deep and heavy as he catches his breath. For a moment he just observes you. Normally this would be a romantic moment of connection when you stop to stare into each other's eyes during love making,,,but the way he looked at you made you anxious with anticipation. His dilated sapphire eyes and that disgustingly smug smirk appeared feral..like he'd been desperately waiting for this very moment...like he hadn't just spent the last couple hours fucking you into oblivion and using your hole as a cum dumpster. He was a wild beast about to dine after a long day of hunting..

You were too caught in his expression to notice the other hand wrapping itself around his hardened cock and stroking.

"Let's see how good my pretty whore looks when she's covered in my cum...'

Whiplash hit you as the hand that was gently cupping your face was now roughly grabbing your face and forcing your head down on his length. Mercilessly, he bobbed your head on his cock, each downward motion causing you to nearly gag as it slammed the back of your throat. You tried your hardest to still give him a good blow job, despite his hasty rhythm but you ended up just being a drooling mess as spittle and precum ran down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"mm- you're a greedy little slut, aren't you?"

"Maybe I should've invited some people over to watch you drool over my dick.."

It was hard to understand the dirty talk he was spewing over everything that was going on and not to mention how slurred his words got as the pleasure became more and more intense..

"f,,,fuck- such a sloppy girl..mmhm-" "y'r such a ,,sloppy girl f'rme"

As he gets close to releasing he grabs a fist full of your hair and removes his cock from your mouth, aiming his tip directly in the center of your face. His full body twitches and his knees start to buckle as he fists his sensitive shaft. His sweet moans turns into pathetic whimpers and whines and his lips are a pale white from how hard he's biting down on them..

"ngh...i'm so close"

Rolling his eyes back, he could barely get his last words out as the warm, thick ropes of semen squirted all over your face..

Oh and you know he's slapping his cock against your lips to get those last few drops out...ughhhh

Knowing Dick, he'd probably act all sweet and charming afterwards like he didn't just make you a whore for his own pleasure.

<3

[synthetickitsune]

Mingyu (SVT) | Bath bombs fluff | 0.7k | gn!reader

You believe in humor. 

He believes in cuteness.

So that’s how you ended up facing a dilemma that you’d never think you’d have - whose bath bomb will get used first?

His, naturally, is honestly too pretty to be allowed to just fizz out into nothing. A little beige fluffy looking puppy. Adorable, beautiful, perfect. You’d feel like a monster pulling it under water.

And yours is a toaster.

It’s funny, okay? And cute too, just in a different way. Maybe you should’ve just gone bath bomb shopping to the store together instead of shopping online where the options were limitless.

Mingyu chuckles when he sees you pout looking at the two options. He hugs you from behind, leaning his head against yours. You know he finds it funny - and honestly it is. Every second standing in front of the two options you commit into your memory because you’re happy and life is good, and you get to have little breakdowns because of something as silly as a bath bomb.

“Let’s use yours when we’re having a bad day, hm?” he suggests and you laugh out loud, finally releasing the tension in your body, and nod.

“So you mean right after we finish this bath, right? Because my day’s about to get significantly worse if we’re sacrificing this beauty,” you sigh as you run a finger over the puppy’s snout. It fits so perfectly into your palm - how are you supposed to kill it?!

“It’s his fate, baby,” Mingyu reminds you, a smile in his voice, because he loves how deeply you appreciate the little details of everything. He hugs you tighter.

“He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a masterpiece,” you insist. 

“No, you are,” he coos into your ear and chuckles when you roll your eyes and call him cringy. You sigh softly. If only you could stop time right now. With your boyfriend pressed against you, squeezing you like he can hold you together, come what may, little puppy in your palm, and the prospect of a long, hot bath in front of you.

“The water will get cold,” he nudges his nose into your cheek, “Let’s get in.”

You give Mingyu a stern look when you hand him the puppy to safely join him in the tub. He just watches with his dumb smile and lip between his teeth, his eyes basically heart shaped and never leaving your body. He does hold the bath bomb above the water though, so you let him get away with being cheesy despite the heat rising to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the hot water.

You stifle a moan when you let your shoulders dip below the surface and the warmth that envelops your tense muscles begins working its magic. All thoughts evacuate your mind. There’s just the feeling of your bones turning into jelly and your legs brushing against Mingyu’s. The only thing that could elevate this experience to perfection would be some nice, relaxing scent…

“Love? It’s time,” he says gently, chuckling at the frown tugging at your face upon your moment of peace being disrupted, “We need to let him go.”

You reluctantly straighten up and look at the puppy still resting in your boyfriend’s palm. Giving the bath bomb one last pat, you guide his hand down and watch as the puppy starts floating and slowly dissipating. It feels strangely like a funeral full of colors and bubbles, and the bathroom fills with a fresh scent. Are you a monster when you melt back into the warm bath again after sparing one last thought for the puppy?

“Better?” Mingyu asks, leaning back himself. You just give him a nod.

“I promise I’ll be less dramatic with the toaster one,” you hum. He gives you a sceptical look. “I’ll just throw it in. You’ll be dramatic and act like you’re getting electrocuted.”

“Hey!” he pouts, kicking you lightly under the water, “Why am I the one dying?”

“To make me laugh?” you flutter your eyelashes at him with the sweetest smile. He opens his mouth and closes it just as fast, the pout remains on his lips but his eyes soften. Victory.

You laugh and lean forward, easily catching his lips in a kiss. He sighs against your mouth, but as always he’s already thinking about the best way to execute the scene. Because he’s wrapped around your finger like that.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Seeing Stars 3

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

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

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Summary: You struggle to be star struck by the world’s most famous super soldiers. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: Guess this is happening.

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

"I can't believe you won," Bonita chimes. 

"Uh, yeah, I told you to just claim the prize," you mutter. 

"And I told you," she pulls you off the subway, "it has to be the ticket holder." 

"Right. You could say you're me." 

"Didn't you read the email?" She huffs as you drag your feet behind her. You hate Manhattan. 

"I skimmed." 

"They have to check ID at the door. As your plus one, I had to submit a bunch of stuff. Didn't you?" She hooks her arm through yours as she urges you through the New York rush. 

You grumble. It's like the universe is laughing in your face. Or hers. It should've been her prize. She's the one who likes all that stuff. As much as you don't want to spit in her face, you're not very happy to spend a rare day off somewhere you don't want to be. 

You're a good friend. That's why you're doing this. That's it. You'll get through it for her. In spite of her. 

You find her waiting where she promised. She's taking selfies right outside the doors of Stark Tower, unbothered by those passing by. You nudge her and hiss, "you're in the way." 

"About time. You're almost late." She lowers her phone and bats her fake eye lashes at her. Oh, she went all out. You thought the sweater and jeans was a fine choice. 

"Almost, but I'm not," you chirp. 

"Lighten up! This is going to be the greatest days of our lives," she squeals and claps, sending her phone to the ground. You let a sigh out quietly. She's so happy. You'll keep the snide remarks to yourself. 

You bend to pick up her phone and hand it over. She snatches it and giggles, "I wonder if I could livestream the tour." 

"Just... enjoy it," you utter. You don't need her holding up her phone like a tourist. No shame, you swear. 

"Woah, hey," you stumble as someone clamours into you. "Sorry, I didn't see you there. Guess I should've looked down." 

The man's hands cling to your arms as he keeps you on your feet. You pull away and spin to face him. Bonita makes an inhuman noise. 

It's him. Steve Rogers. Again. 

"You guys lost?" He asks. 

You look at Bonita. She vibrates with excitement, "um, we won! Er. Oh! We're here because we won the tour and you're supposed to be there and all the others and--" 

"Ha, yes, I am running behind." He says, “uh, I guess you can come in with me.” 

“Oh wow,” Bonita exclaims. “Thanks so much, Captain. I mean Mr. Rogers. No. Er...” 

“Steve’s fine,” he chuckles. “So, you two were at the convention?” 

“Yes, we got a photo,” she affirms. 

He opens the door and waves you ahead of him. You wait for Bonita to take the lead. You reluctantly follow as Steve tails you. 

“I thought you were familiar.” 

“Oh, no, you must meet so many people,” Bonita slows so that he can catch up and you sidle around them, happy enough to take the rear. 

“Eh, yeah, it can get a bit much.” 

“Sounds miserable,” you mutter, then cringe as you remember his super hearing. Oops. 

“I’m sure the rest are waiting,” he stops at a door and puts in a number on the keypad. It flashes red and buzzes. “Ugh, I always forget.” Instead, he moves to look into the dark lens higher up. An ultraviolet flare runs over his eye and the door unlocks. “I can doing that.” 

He opens the door again, a gentleman straight out of the 40s. Once more, you are stuck between the two of them. He points you down the hall to a private elevator. You get on. 

You bob impatiently as Bonita inserts herself between you and Steve. You stare at the reflective doors and let your vision blur. 

“So, um, is the shield here?” She asks. “Not to be lame or anything.” 

“Oh, sure, maybe you could see some of the prototype suits? I think there’s still a few hanging around,” Steve answers. 

“That’s so cool,” she chimes. 

You struggle not to roll your eyes. Instead, you focus and find another pair observing you in the mirrored surface before you. You quickly glance away from Steve’s gaze. 

Finally, your floor comes. You assume since the doors ding and Steve steps ahead of you. You follow him out into a spacious room. You can tell by the windows alone that it’s the very top of tower. 

“There you are, Capsicle,” someone calls over. 

You turn in the direction of the voice as Bonita grabs your arm and points at the dark-haired man. You know who he is. He’s on too many magazine covers and blogs not to. Tony Stark. He stands amid the group of his fellow avengers. 

“I found our lucky winners,” Steve says. 

“Bonita, and er, well, she won,” she pokes you as she introduces you. “Erm, we’re super excited.” 

You stare dully. You want to lie, for her. You do your best; a nod. 

“I remember you two,” Bucky’s voice surprises you. It’s only then you notice him sitting away from the rest of them, lazily flipping a knife. “You had a photo.” 

“Yes, that’s us!” Bonita blusters. 

“Well, ladies, welcome to the tower, these are the big boys... and girls.” Stark steps in front of the rest, “you’ve met Steverino here, and apparently his sidekick, The Raven.” Bucky scoffs as he stands and sheaths the knife. “Not to be cocky but I assume you know the rest of us.” 

“I do!” Bonita declares, “but er...” she looks at you. You half-nod and half-shrug. “It’s Tony Stark!” 

“I know that.” 

“Who doesn’t?” He winks. 

You grumble and his chin tilts slightly in affront. 

“That’s Thor! And Black Widow and Scarlet Witch, and Vision, and Hawkeye, and Hulk...” she goes down the list as you lose track and a little bit of interest. It’s your turn in Scrabble, you feel the notification buzz in your pocket. 

“What? Were you caught in the ice with this one?” Stark jabs Steve with a snicker. “You don’t know the world’s greatest heroes?” 

You stare back at him. “Nice tower, I guess.” 

“Ice cold,” he whistles, “I’ll leave this one to you, Vis. She’s about your speed,” he turns and struts away. 

“It’s your tour,” the woman with the short red bob says; the widow? 

“Contractual obligation but far from my idea,” he counters. “Hey, Banner, how about you take the lead. PhD or whatnot, I’m sure you give a hell of a lecture.” 

“We can go.” You offer and Bonita elbows you. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve insists, “we’re all going on the tour. Right, Tony?” 

“Hm, let me grab a whiskey first.” 

[jjmbbg]

"A first time together"

cw: clark kent x fem!reader, protected p in v, loss of 'virginity', insecurities, softie clark bc i'm not feeling well and i need a hug, looots of kissessss, c'moooon look at those pretty lipssss.

(pics from pinterest)

To tell the truth, neither of you knew if the heat you felt was a product of the summer in Smallville or because of the tremendous tension between the two of you. Maybe it was a little bit of both, maybe it was the sun's rays, maybe it was Clark's clumsy, inexperienced hands caressing your thighs over your skirt, maybe it was your own hands holding his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Your soft breaths filled his ears, which you caressed from lobe to helix, making him hum softly. His nervous hand was placed against your lower stomach —yes, he dared to move his hand from your thigh, that's brave!— pushing you against the old couch of his little relaxing-space at the barn. This completely daring move allowed him to have a little more control in the situation —even if he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

He broke the kiss to let you catch your breath, his pretty eyes opening to look you in the eye, taking the time to appreciate every detail in your face: swollen lips from the kissing session, a little scar on your eyebrow which is only visible with sunlight at the right angle, some wrinkles, product of daily stress, and some other spots on your skin.

Oh good Lord, he loved you with his whole heart. To him, you were the prettiest little thing ever. You were also fragile, delicate like glass.

"We've been kissing for like... fifteen minutes?" you chuckled lowly, voice shaky and amused, still a little breathy. "I mean, not like I'm complaining, clearly, but you're gonna wear out my lips"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed about it. But he can't help it! You're just... ugh, perfect.

"I kinda got carried away" Clark said as an apology, smiling softly, his canines standing out in his smile as always. "We can stop, y'know. I may be being a bit intense right now..."

You shook your head softly, smiling amused. "Don't worry, Clark. We don't have to stop. I don't wanna stop. Do you?"

Clark grinned, shaking his head amused too, and obviously still a little nervous. "Good, good..." he mumbled, looking at you directly into your eyes again, then leaned forward and slowly kissed you again.

This guy, the one who turned 18 a few days ago was too nervous, but that that wasn't gonna stop him from caressing your lower belly, or sliding one hand to your nape and putting the other on the couch, gently pushing you now towards the cushions. He crawled on top of you, careful not to put all his weight on you, as you two kept kissing.

Your legs unconsciously opened for him to adjust himself right there, your hands went to his back, one of them caressing his upper back and the other slipping under his white t-shirt, slowly caressing his skin, tearing from his lips a soft whimper.

Suddenly he broke the kiss, he seemed even more nervous now, making you frown a little.

"Hey, you okay?" your question was soft, your voice was it too, as if you were talking to a hurt animal.

"Have you ever done this?" he replied back with another question, chewing his inner cheek.

"Kiss you? Yeah, I've done it before, Clark" you mumbled, smiling shyly, your frown fading from your face.

Oh, you were so cute he could die.

"No, not that" he chuckled, caressing your sides with nervous hands. He swallowed hard. "I meant... it"

The pink color flooded your entire face, making you giggle a little, shaking your head softly. "No, never... you?"

"No, no, no" Clark replied quickly, also shaking his hand. "I... I guess now I'm glad I'm not the only one who's a little lost with this..."

"Hey, it's okay" you said, cupping his cheek with one hand, the other unable to stop caressing his skin. "We... we can figure it out together"

Clark nodded, kissing your jaw softly then. His kisses were still a little shy, but gradually, they became more confident, more rude, more passionate. The hand that was next to you, traveled to your thigh again, moving towards your knee, reaching your calf, ending at your foot and getting rid of your boot, then the other one.

You smiled at him, Clark chuckling softly as he took off your socks, tossing them next to your boots, teasingly biting one of your feet.

"Hey! Don't bite!" you said, pulling your feet away from his mouth, but he pushed hard and grabbed them, pushing them apart and opening your legs again, leaning on you as he caressed your skin slowly and seductively. "Hi" you giggled kissing his lips gently.

"Hi" he replied against your soft lips.

You pulled him tightly against your body, your hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it slowly exposing centimeter by centimeter in a fearful but determined manner. He helped you, taking it off of him, leaving his toned torso in your sight, which was caressed by your hands slowly, tasting and memorizing every part of his skin.

"You're really pretty" you blurted out, pressing your hands on his shoulders, pulling him back towards you.

"Oh, God" he whispered, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at your words.

With soft kisses, soft touches and soft whimpers, your hands undressed him and his undressed you, now both in their underwear, Clark scooped you in his arms effortlessly as he managed to sit on the couch to make you straddle his lap. His hands caressed your bare back as he pecked your lips, fingers finding the clasp of your bra nervously, and pulled back a little, his blue eyes searching yours.

"Is it okay if I...? You know..." his voice was soft, accompanied by a coy smile. "Can I take this off?"

You chuckled softly, nodding with your head, mumbling a soft "yes". Kent slowly unclasped your bra, sliding one of the straps of your bra down your shoulder, kissing your skin softly, nipping it, as he uncovered your chest. He moved your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and collarbones, now enjoying the warmth of your bare skin against his, feeling shivers running down his spine.

"You're pretty too, God, so beautiful" he breathed out, his eyes roaming your torso in awe, enraptured by your naked beauty and purity, your exposed body was a work of art, one that only he could appreciate now. "I could just... I could stare at you all day"

You smiled, cupping his cheeks and gave him an open-mouthed kiss, sighing against his mouth, tongue delving into his.

He whimpered.

Oh, God. It felt like heaven. Your mouth was warm, it was a slight test of what was forbidden, what was kept away from him.

It was glorious.

He kissed you back with the same fucking lust, the same fucking love. His hands tugged the hem of your panties, playing with it until he decided to slide them slowly off your pretty body and leave you all bare to him. His eyes landed on your new exposed area, swallowing hard, feeling his throat and mouth dry and his boxers feeling tight.

"Please..." he whispered, now looking at your face with pleading eyes. "Can I... can I just touch you?"

It was a simple question, but goddamn... he looked at you with those blue eyes as if you were the prettiest thing that has existed on earth —yet he looked a little pathetic, furrowed brow in need, eyes shining, little pout on those red lips from kissing you so much.

He was perfect for you.

"Yes, Clark, you can touch me" you replied softly, feeling your body shudder. "Let me touch you too, baby, please?"

The farmboy nodded, hands going lower, caressing your ass and thighs, gently —and a little unsure— he touched your privates. He wasn't an expert, but he kinda had an idea of how to actually do it. His confidence increased a little when he heard you gasp softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders tightly.

"Clark..." you breathed out, eyes shutting in pleasure.

You pressed your forehead on his shoulder, your legs trying to close at his touch, but he kept them open with his other hand. His fingers with a bruising grip on your thigh, not allowing you to close your gates to Heaven no inch. His touch was gentle and reverent, his hand getting wetter with your sweet arousal.

His kisses and your own touches on his warmth skin made you two end up lying on the couch again —maybe the barn wasn't the better place to do this, but just... hormones blocking any kind of reasoning whatsoever—, his hands reached his jeans, pulling out a condom from his wallet —and maybe not the best place to save one, but hey, at least he had one!.

He was shaky, nervous, and so you were.

For some people, the first time wasn't a big deal, but for both of you it certainly was. It was also special, after almost a year of relationship, this could actually be the moment when your souls and bodies are used in harmony and as perfect puzzle pieces. Something that would mark an important moment for the relationship.

Between giggles, you helped him to roll the condom on his hardness and to aline him on your entrance. He took a shuddering breath, and his gaze moved from your almost connected bodies to your pretty face seeking for doubt, for insecurity, for rejection. His eyes were filled with a mix of desire and... pure fear. He was afraid that you would push him away, that you changed your mind at the last minute, that you think he's not what you want.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice betraying his worst feelings at the moment. "We can-... we can stop, y'know? I wouldn't mind, honestly"

But you weren't dumb. You knew his words came from fear, and you won't let him think that you don't want to do this, that you don't want to give yourself to him. You shook your head, caressing his cheek softly, with a little smile on your face. "I don't wanna stop. I don't want you to stop" you said, almost the same words you said earlier, and they were more than enough to make him feel confident again.

"Let me know if it hurts, yeah?" he asked softly, pressing the tip of his length on your slick folds, nudging your entrance gently. He heard you whimper lowly, shifting your hips a little for him. "Am I hurting you?" Clark stopped his movements, looking at your face.

You shook your head again, taking a deep breath and moving your hands to his back so you could ground yourself.

"On the contrary" you gasped softly. Your chest heaving with your shallow breaths. "Keep going, please..."

The farmboy sighed softly, relieved, and nodded, slowly finishing to push his hips towards yours, burying his cock fully in your warmnes. You both moaned at the sensation, being consumed slowly by the pleasure that was starting to form inside. He gave you a few seconds to adjust yourself to his size, to the intruder who was slowly and deliciously splitting you open.

He peppered kisses on your face as you took your sweet time to get used to him. It was a new sensation, one you could easily get used to. After a few minutes, you moved your hips towards his, indicating that he could start moving now. You knew that, anyway, and despite being patient so as not to hurt you, he was mentally fighting with the primal instinct of thrust into you.

Clark hummed when you moved your hips, the green light to keep going. He pulled back his lips just a little, pushing then gently back inside of you, his breath coming in short gasps as your walls enveloped his cock so good. You gasped softly once more, your nails digging painfully but deliciously on his back, making him groan on your neck.

He thrusted into your soft and warm heat, grabbing one of your hands and pinning it above your head, pulling out from the depths of your throat the most beautiful moans he had ever heard in his life. He rolled his hips slowly, angling them to hit the perfect spot inside of your pussy, making you shudder with pleasure. He whispered sweet nothingsin your ear, his voice, ragged and filled with lust, filled your ears, the exquisite melody that filled your soul.

"Oh, God... don't stop... Clark, don't stop" you whimpered, clenching around his shaft mercilessly. "You're doing it so good... so good..."

Your soft moans and pleas were driving him nuts. His hips picked pace, a little faster now, making the old couch beneath you creak a little. He growled softly, loosing himself in the amazing sensation of your body connected with his. It was beautiful and magical.

It was embarrassing to say that he wasn't going to last long, but could you blame him? He had the prettiest girl ever in his arms, moaning his name and asking for something only he could give you. He pressed his face harder on your neck, nose inhaling your musky scent and a little of your perfume.

"Honey, I... oh God... I think I'm g-gona cum" *he grumbled as his thrusts became more uncoordinated, desperate, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. He gritted his teeth tightly, his jaw clenched, fighting his release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

You squeeze his hand above your head, your legs wrapping around his hips and heels digging into his taut ass to push him deeper. His incredibly amazing movements making you see stars behind your eyelids, the orgasm building tight on your lower belly.

"I'm close too... oh, God!" you cried out, feeling on the edge from the orgasmic precipice. The pleasure was immense, your nails digging into his back, unable to contain for much longer that delicious sensation to which you were becoming addicted.

It didn't take long for you two to come, your orgasm finally pushing Clark to reach his —he had really taken it upon himself to make you feel good, like a goddess. Your juices dripped off your core, sliding down your ass and small drops falling on the couch as he emptied himself inside of the condom, his hips still moving trying to prolong a little more the pleasure for both of you.

He wondered to himself why, despite being too strong and being almost incapable of getting tired, he felt exhausted. Maybe it was the effect of your pretty body in display for him. He grinned at the thought of you being able to do that to him.

With some weird effort, he pulled out of you, taking off the condom from his softening cock and tying it, slumping on top of you, his lips finding your pulse point. Your skin tasted like your sweat, not like he cared at all. Your hands caressed his sweaty back, a small smile decorating your face.

"If your mom or dad finds us like this..." you said teasingly, catching your breath.

Clark chuckled, stroking your bare sides. "They'll be fine"

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Six. Six calls. And he hadn't picked up any of them.

The straw that breaks your back.

Nanami comes home Friday night, around 10pm, trudging up to the apartment like a soldier deep in the forest. His coat is over his arm, briefcase in one hand and a convenience store bag in the other. He bought drinks, your favorite kind. A peace offering.

He places the bag down to unlock the apartment. He grabs the bag once the door is open, kicks the door closed once he's inside. The apartment is pitch black, save for a night-light in the kitchen, leaving a golden glow over the counter. Nanami places his bag on the counter, briefcase on the floor, and his coat over a bar stool. He turns on the kitchen light and glances around. Maybe you went to bed already.

He empties the convenience store bag and puts the drinks in the fridge. Afterwards, he makes his way down the hall, hand loosening his tie.

"Darling?"

No answer, but maybe you were asleep.

The bedroom door was closed. He opened it and stepped inside. The curtains were open, moonlight streaming through, hitting the sheets. The empty sheets.

"Hmm..."

Nanami pulls out his phone, bringing up your contact, hitting the call button. It rings once, then goes to your voicemail. He furrows his brow, hanging up and trying again. Same result.

He goes to your messages, sends you a text asking where you are, then goes back to the kitchen.

He downs a glass of scotch as he waits, glancing at his phone every five minutes. The TV is on some rerun of a cooking show, volume low. He needed just enough noise to distract him from the anxiety of you not being there.

An hour had gone by, and still nothing. Should he call the police? Your friend? Yeah, maybe your friend might know where you are. Maybe you went over for drinks and were too tired to come home, your phone dead. He should call her.

"The fuck do you want, Nanami?"

"Well, it's great to hear from you too."

"What do you want?"

"Have you heard from Y/N? I tried contacting her and she hasn't replied. I'm worried."

"Oh, so now you're worried-"

"Excuse me?"

"So Y/N calls you several times because you don't come home for days, and you don't answer once, but when you're worried about her, suddenly-"

"What are you going on about?"

She sighs loudly, mumbling to someone before he hears a shuffling on the other side of the phone.

"It's over, Ken. Don't contact me anymore."

The line goes dead. He sits there for a moment, blinking, before taking his phone away from his ear and looking at it. He presses the call button again, but it goes straight to voicemail. He tries your number again, and nothing.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He bolts to the bedroom, turning on the light and going to the closet. Your clothes are gone. He tries the dresser. Nothing. He goes to the bathroom. Your shampoo, your toothbrush, it was all gone.

No. No. No no no no no.

Were you gone? Gone for good? What happened? What had he done to make you leave? Yes, he had been busy with work, gone overnight for several days, and yes, he had missed your calls, but he was busy, it was justified. He wouldn't have done it on purpose if he didn't have a good reason to.

He checked for your other belongings, just to be sure. Your books, your hobbies, all your personal items were gone. His apartment looked the way it did before the two of you met.

God, please, no. Don't do this to me. If you want to end it, I understand, but please, don't leave me like this.

His stomach hurt. Was he going to throw up? He shouldn't have drank before he knew what was going on.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But nothing came. Just this heaving in his chest that left him feeling sick.

He found the couch again, plopping down. He stared blankly ahead, processing the last few weeks. Had there been signs? Did he not take notice of how you were truly feeling? This couldn't have happened overnight. Was this really all because of his work?

He hunched over, head finding his hands.

It's over.

[scottdoesitall]

i was thinking for awhile and realized a really big detail about bucky that I never see anyone talk about-- that being how he would most likely forget a lot of basic hygiene, at that how he may rely on a romantic partner to remind him and or help.

considering bucky had no real access to hygiene and alongside that hygiene has changed a lot since last he was mentally stable and grounded, hygiene would be a mediocre topic to touch up on for him.

of course he would know the basics; taking a shower, brushing your teeth, putting on deodorant, you get the picture. things like brushing his hair at that doing it in the morning? nah.

especially when he had his long hair, he never brushed it. but I'd also like to assume he didn't shower at that time cause his hair lowkey looks greasy in certain shots. showers didn't exist for him in civil war apparently.

BUT THEY SURE DID FOR YOU. dragging him by his flesh arm to a shower inside your own apartment (cause his was barley taken care of) and throwing his ass under the shower head. you'd be scrubbing for like 5 minutes with the shampoo and conditioner you'd put in his hair. while he sits there and acts like he's upset about it, but in all reality it felt nice. id like to imagine his scalp was DRYYY so having it scrubbed was in comparison to reaching the heavens.

In his more recent years with the short hair, he was actually adapting to hygiene by now. it wasn't really surprising, I mean he's been back to his mentally grounded state for awhile now, and especially with your help, he was actually starting to understand it better. but his fucking hair again.

he'd get it cut just for the sake of not having to deal with styling it. even if it did look terrible, he would just run his hands through it and call it a day. it was infuriating. you started shoving his hair under the shower head again, just so you could style it yourself. he'd have hairs going the wrong way on his head, and would not do ANYTHING about it. but you sure as hell would.

[cod-dump]

Every time you mention MacMillan I get flashbacks to that goddamn ghillie mission from the original game and the sheer number of times I had to do that part where you have to avoid getting crushed by the tank or spotted by the guys walking with it. I'm just imagining Mac fondly telling the 141 about that mission and the 141 are all horrified at Price crawling under a moving tank surrounded by enemies and radiation, taking down a chopper with snipers and it LANDING ON THEM, and then fighting off encroaching enemies while waiting for exfil with an injured Mac.

The boys asking Mac to tell them stories about a younger Price, expecting something embarrassing to hold over his head. But the first thing he told them made them fearful over what shit Price was doing in his younger years.

To get embarrassing stories they should've gone to Laswell while on leave or to Nik after he's had a couple drinks. Mac just told them things that gave them second-hand stress and fear. Some of things he told them made them think back to past missions and how they had Price stressing.

"How... why doesn't he go to therapy?"

A genuine response, concern in Gaz's voice. Soap, too, was horrified, staring at Price's back as he bickered with Mac over a ln 'incorrect statement' in his tale.

"The mud wasn't made with blood, Mac."

"Some of it was!"

"Well-"

Gaz grabbed Soap's shoulder in a iron grip, "Suds."

"We need to do some fact checking with Laswell and Nik. For sanity's sake."

[tripiolo]

second chances ✧ ms

𝜗𝜚 in which you give your ex boyfriend another chance

contains- swearing, mention of breakup, mention of neglect & disregard of feelings, crying, little bit of sad little bit of happy

“mom asked about you,” matt blurts out, looking to his lap while he twiddles with his thumbs.

you had broken up with matt the week before, and had been coming over to collect your things in several trips, hoping you would be able to avoid matt. this time, he was sitting on the couch when you pushed your way inside, so there was no avoiding him. he looked smaller than normal, hunched over in a way he usually wasn’t. you approached him, noticing his puffy face when he looked up to you. had he been crying? certainly. and it seemed he had been for a long time.

“oh..” you say awkwardly, setting your backpack down on the couch. “did she?”

matt nods his head, his eyes darting back to his lap. he knew he had messed up, and he was feeling every ounce of guilt for what he said about you to his friend.

“can we talk, like seriously, please?” he pleads, his eyes briefly meeting yours. tears prodded at your eyes from seeing him this way. it was terrible to see him so shaken, but it felt nice knowing he still cared and this wasn’t any easier for him.

“matt…” you sigh, taking a seat next to him. “what could there possibly be to talk about? i feel like we’ve exhausted all avenues at this point.” you knew the breakup would be the hardest one you have ever had to go through, because matt was different. you felt such a strong connection to him in your soul, and he loved and cared for you like no other. your love was better than the movies, but the repetitive nature of matt’s unwillingness to hear what you were saying had gotten old and driven the two of you apart.

“no, y/n, please just hear me-,” he says softly, setting something inside of you off.

“hear you out?!” you furrow your brow, raising your voice. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

matt remains silent as you cross your arms and scoff at his choice of words. “hear you out? matt, the whole fucking reason we broke up is because you could never do that for me!” you shout, tears spilling from your eyes. you two had communicated about the breakup, but always had left things unsaid in the end. this time, you wanted to be sure you said everything you wanted to. you sigh deeply in attempt to calm yourself down, wiping your hands down your face.

once he comes back into your line of vision, your heart drops at the sight of his body hunched over and shaking. his head was in his hands as he sobbed, and your attitude changed instantly. in the two years you had been together, you never saw him cry.

“matt?” you whisper, softly placing a hand against his back. “i’m sorry, i’m just frustrated. i shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“you had every right to,” he sniffles, looking up at you once he has calmed down. “i messed up.” another tear rolls down his cheek.

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he says, grabbing your hand in his own. “so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. you’re everything to me, y’know that?” he asks, his voice cracking as he tries to hold his tears back. “everything i have ever wanted, everything i have ever needed. there’s nobody like you. i am so truly and deeply in love with you, i can’t just let you walk away from me.”

“matt…” you start, earning a ‘shush’ from him. a blush creeps up on your cheeks as he speaks, a small smile spreading across your face.

“i know i messed up, and i know sorry won’t cut it, but i just want you to know how genuinely sorry i am. i never meant to hurt you, neglect you, disregard your feelings, none of that. i don’t want to start over with anyone else. i don’t want anyone in your place but you. you are the only one for me in this lifetime and the next,” he continues, his nose clogged from the crying he had done. “this is what couples do, right? they fight, they have misunderstandings…but they fix it together. we can fix this together, sweetheart.”

you ponder for a moment, touched by matt’s sincere words. maybe he was right, maybe you could fix this together. maybe you did overreact a little when you broke things off, but that’s a conversation for another time.

“yeah,” you finally say, a small smile on your face. “i think we can work things out,” you continue, and matt practically jumps on you. “but wait.”

you giggle, pulling away from him for a second to speak in a serious tone. “you have to promise me you’ll try to be better at listening to me when i speak.” matt frantically nods his head, wrapping his arms around your waist. he looks up at you with the sweetest eyes that you’ve missed so dearly, and you know you made the right decision.

“i thought i had lost you for good,” he breathes out, enveloping you in a tight embrace. “i was so scared…”

“matt, you could never lose me for good. i love you too much for that.”

“good, because i’m not going anywhere now that you’re back. now, how about we call mom?” he smiles, and everything in the world feels right again.

[fake-mouthstatic]

wish

@118dailydrabble, day 45. bucktommy, rated G.

🔥

"You know, the stars are up there," Evan says, turning to face Tommy with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, I know," Tommy replies, grinning as he keeps his gaze fixed firmly on his boyfriend; how anyone could look at anything else when Evan is right there, he's really not sure.

Evan blushes shyly before turning back to the sky.

"Hey," he says a few minutes later, "shooting star."

Tommy's heart swells fondly in his ribcage at the bright smile on his face, brighter even than the stars he's supposed to be watching.

"Make a wish," Evan says, but Tommy just chuckles softly.

"Don't need to," he says, stroking a hand through Evan's hair. "Got everything I need right here."

read the others here

[anakinstwinklebunny]

sam, vinnie and reader going to a butterfly exhibit

SAM MONROE walked through the entrance, his hand securely wrapped around Vinnie's little, pudgy one, the little boy wobbling on his little sneakers, eyes wide and filled with this childish wonder. You, on the other hand, tried to understand the camera you had picked up for this moment, so later you could print them out to family's album

"you comin'?" Sam turned to look at you, free hand tucked in his pocket

"yeah, yeah..just having a hard time with this thing. Thought I understood the manual"

Sam's lips twisted into a small smirk, before his gaze fell to the toddler "Watch it, Little Dude," Sam muttered, scooping Vinnie up when the kid almost tripped over his own feet. "Keep up."

Vinnie babbled in response, chubby hands stretching toward a butterfly that danced out of reach. One arm wrapped around sam's neck while his mouth formed an adorable “wooow,” pudgy fingers grasping for the colorful creature that flew just beyond his too tiny reach.

"Yeah, I know, buddy. Pretty cool, huh?" Sam chuckled under his breath, shifting Vinnie in his arms as they walked. "You can’t catch 'em, they’re fast little fuckers."

You shot him a glare that had Sam clear his throat and mumble something about actually meaning to say "flies"

You smiled at the sight of them, snapping a quick photo of Vinnie's contagious excitement, and Sam, despite his usual gruffness, looked softer with him--like a completely different person.

After a while, you stopped and sat by the bench, admiring the butterflies that surrounded you. They landed on flowers, people, just on everything while their delicate wings shimmered in the soft light. One butterfly, a gorgeous shade of blue, fluttered down and gently perched on your finger. You gasped in awe, holding your finger still as the butterfly rested on it.

"Sam," you called softly, catching his attention as he was busy giving Vinnie crackers and making him giggle. "Look."

He turned, raising an eyebrow as he followed your gaze to the butterfly on your finger. You smiled, feeling the soft brush of its wings as it fluttered gently. Vinnie, still munching on his crackers, suddenly stopped mid-bite, eyes going wide when he noticed the beautiful butterfly.

"Look, Vinnie," you cooed, calling him over. "You see that?"

he slowly shuffled toward you, little hand still clutching his half-eaten cracker. He gasped, voice barely a whisper. "Buh-fly!"

Vinnie made a grabby motion, little hands stretching out towards the butterfly on your finger. You giggled, letting him reach as the butterfly took off, flying away into the air. Vinnie let out a small gasp of surprise, little face scrunching up.

"Aw, did it fly away?" you asked, teasing him gently.

Vinnie babbled something in response, little mouth covered in cracker crumbs as he reached out again, determined. "Buh-fly!" voice firm and full of focus.

Sam just shook his head, turning back to Vinnie, his protective instincts kicking back before he scooped up the boy. “Alright, dude,” he said, standing up from the bench “Let’s go find a butterfly you can actually catch.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 1

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

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

Character: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t think it is some ploy?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The duke sighs, “the winter nears.” 

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

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

“You would wait for the spring?” 

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

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

“A time ago,” Rogers rebuffs. 

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

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

“My luggage will need prepared,” Rogers resigns.