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bananabreads · 2 days ago

Note

I absolutely adore your dad!lads series. Every single post gives me so much serotonin 🥰. I love how much personality you put into each of their kids!

I saw that you're requests are open and thought it could be cute to see their children losing their first tooth because I randomly remembered how that happened to me.

Of course only if you want to!

More importantly thank you so so much for writing 🤗 and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold :3

Dad!lads and their child losing their first ever tooth (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)

— ♥︎♥︎ Dad!Rafayel, Dad!Caleb, Dad!Sylus, Dad!Zayne, Dad!Xavier — Inbox is open for requests and questions!

RAFAYEL —

Unlike most kids, your daughter loved going to the dentist. She thought the bright lights, little mirrors, and spinning chairs were magical. So when her first ever baby tooth started wobbling, and the tiniest sliver of a new one began peeking behind it, she was practically bouncing around the house.

“Daddy, We need to go to the dentist, right now!” she told Rafayel dramatically one morning, clutching her cheek like it was a life or death situation.

You both chuckled, and after a quick visit, the dentist gently helped her pop the tooth out. She didn’t even flinch, just sat there proudly, clutching the tiny tooth like it was a diamond.

When you tried to offer the little tooth box the clinic gave her, she shook her head. “No one touches it but me.”

Fair enough. She clutched it in her little palm the entire ride home, even while she messily devoured a post dentist celebratory ice cream.

Once you got home, you thought she’d calm down. Instead, she ran to her room, ripped a page out of her sketchbook, grabbed her favorite scented marker, and started furiously writing something.

Rafayel peeked over her shoulder. “What’s that, little guppy?”

She turned, grinning.

“It's my wishlist, daddy! For the Tooth Fairy!”

Both of you paused.

“Oh,” Rafayel said, eyes flicking to you. “A wishlist...”

“Yup!” she beamed, proudly placing the tooth and the folded paper under her pillow. “If Santa gets one, so does she.”

Hours later, once she was fast asleep, you and Rafayel carefully crept into the room and peeked at the letter.

You slowly unfolded the paper… and nearly choked.

TOOTH FAIRY WISHLIST:

1. "Reel fairy wings that glow"

2. "A baby unicorn (just small one!!)"

3. "10000 🌈🌈 stickkers"

4. "Secret note that mommy and daddy can't read"

5. "A surprize (but like a GOOD surprize)"

6. "Magecal brash dat can draw in the sky!"

Rafayel sat on the floor outside her room, staring at the note in his hands like it had personally cursed him.

“She thinks the Tooth Fairy is a celestial sorcerer,” he whispered. “Love, We’re doomed.”

You rubbed your temples. “We should’ve just told her the truth.”

“She had sparkles in her eyes,” Rafayel hissed back. “We can't.”

So now you were both on your phones, half frantically scrolling for glow in the dark fairy wings, sky projector pens, and trying to figure out how to make a “secret note” that only she could read.

You glanced at your husband, Rafayel.

“We created a high maintenance daughter.”

Rafayel sighed. “We did. And she deserves every bit of magic we can fake.”

And so the Tooth Fairy Operation began.

CALEB —

Your daughter’s first wobbly tooth had been hanging on for days, one of her front ones, giving her that adorable crooked grin. You and Caleb had finally agreed that it was now the time to visit the dentist to help it along. Nothing scary, just a little milestone.

Caleb was already waiting on the couch, car keys in hand, while you finished dressing her. The moment her shoes were on, she tore out of the room with bright eyes and bouncing steps.

“Daddy! I'm turning into a big girl now!” she shouted excitedly, arms thrown up like she’d just won something huge.

Caleb let out a warm laugh, catching her before she could leap into his lap. “You’re growing too fast, sweetie” he murmured with a soft smile, gently pinching her cheeks. “Can you slow down just a little for me?”

She giggled and hugged him tight, filled with that proud, bubbly energy only kids have.

But as you finally opened the front door to head out, she ran a few steps ahead, too excited to wait. Her little foot caught on the step.

“Sweetheart—!” you both called, but too late.

She tripped, hitting her knees on the concrete with a small thud. She didn’t wail right away—just blinked, confused, and then the tears welled up fast.

“Ow—!” she whimpered, eyes wide and lip trembling. “It hurts—!”

Caleb knelt beside her instantly, scooping her into his arms as you gently checked her for scrapes. That’s when you noticed: her tooth was gone.

It had popped right out from the fall, a tiny drop of red left on her lip.

You gave Caleb a quick look. She hadn't noticed.

Without a word, he subtly picked up the tooth from the ground and slipped it into his pocket. You took out a tissue and gently dabbed at her mouth, doing your best to block her view.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Just a little magic accident,” you said, kissing her temple.

“Did I bleed?” she asked, voice small, eyes darting between you both.

“Nope, not at all,” Caleb said smoothly, still cradling her in his arms. “You were so brave, your tooth just decided to come out on its own. You don’t even need the dentist now!”

Her teary eyes widened. “...Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Really. And you know what brave girls get?”

“Ice cream?” she sniffled, hopefully.

“Exactly,” Caleb grinned.

That night, a tiny tooth waited under her pillow, and she fell asleep whispering, “I’m a big girl now…” with a gap toothed smile and a bit of strawberry ice cream still on her chin.

SYLUS —

The day had finally come. Your daughter’s wobbly front tooth was hanging by a thread, and she was both excited and slightly nervous. You and Sylus had everything ready in the living room—tissues, some ice cubes in a bowl, and her favorite chocolate ice cream waiting in the freezer as a post tooth reward.

You were lounging on the couch, ready to play the role of support, while Sylus headed down the hallway to fetch her from her room.

He opened the door and immediately froze.

There she was, kneeling on the floor, practically manhandling poor Mephisto, who looked every bit like a hostage to a very confusing situation.

“Mephie, this one!” she declared proudly, prying her mouth open and pointing to her wobbly tooth while gently, maybe not so gently, pulling his head closer.

She was shaking him a little, like she was trying to convince him to do dentistry.

Sylus’s eyes widened. “Wait—wait, no, sweethe—”

But it was too late.

With one more tug, she forced Mephisto’s beak to accidentally pull just right—and pop! The tooth flew.

Mephisto yelped and flew off towards the top shelf to reclaim his dignity.

Your daughter blinked, then slowly turned to Sylus, mouth slightly agape, blood at the corner of her lips, before breaking into the biggest, gappiest grin.

“Daddy, I did it!” she beamed. “I’m a genius!”

Sylus let out a deep breath, half in relief, half in exasperation. “You almost gave Mephisto a heart attack, sweetheart..” he muttered, scooping her up. “You're lucky he didn’t call in for backup.”

She just giggled, utterly unfazed. “Do I still get ice cream?”

You had peeked into the room by then, having heard the commotion, and saw Sylus walking out with your proud little gremlin in his arms and a very grumpy Mephisto flapping behind them like an offended shadow.

“Only if you promise no more bird dentistry,” you said, ruffling her hair.

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine... maybe next time I’ll ask big bros luke and kieran!”

Both you and Sylus exchanged a look that said absolutely not—but for now, it was ice cream time.

And that night, one tiny tooth sat under her pillow, and one very traumatized bird refused to come down from the shelf.

ZAYNE —

Your daughter had made it very clear—she absolutely hated going to the dentist. Even the mention of it had her hiding behind curtains or burying her face into your shirt like the dentist was some kind of monster under the bed.

So when one of her front teeth started wobbling like it was ready to pack up and leave on its own, Zayne sighed and gently said, “Alright, kiddo. No dentist. Daddy will help, okay?”

You handed over tissues and moral support while Zayne knelt in front of her, patient and gentle. The tooth was barely hanging on, it just needed a little nudge.

“Alright, sweetheart, open up,” he said softly.

She obediently opened her mouth, and then immediately shut it the moment Zayne reached for the tooth.

This happened three times.

“Sweetie,” you said, trying not to laugh as she pressed her lips tightly together. “You want it out, remember?”

“I know..” she mumbled. “But it’s scary when it’s right there…”

Zayne chuckled and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Okay, okay. Let’s try this another way.”

He held her tiny shoulders gently and said, “I’ll count to three, alright? We’ll pull it on three. Easy.”

She nodded, eyes wide, lips parted just a bit this time.

“One…”

“Two—”

Pop!

“Wha—?!”

Before she could even flinch, the tooth was already in Zayne’s hand.

She blinked. “Daddy, You said on three!”

You bit back a laugh as your daughter stared at him, offended for a solid five seconds before bursting into a soft giggles.

“Can I see the hole?” she asked, already sticking her tongue in the gap.

Zayne gently wiped the tiny bit of blood from her mouth and nodded. “You look like a fierce little shark now.”

She beamed. “Does this mean I get two coins from the tooth fairy...? Because I got tricked by daddy!”

Zayne raised a brow. “Tricked? That was strategy, little lady.”

She stuck her tongue out, still smiling—and already asking for ice cream five minutes later.

XAVIER —

You and Xavier's four year old son had been avoiding food like it was his mortal enemy—all thanks to one stubborn wobbly tooth. Every meal turned into a negotiation.

“It moves when I chew, Mommy… I don’t like it,” he would say, looking betrayed by even the softest slice of bread.

You and Xavier had tried everything: gentle wiggling, funny pep talks, and reassuring him that the tooth would fall out soon. Still, he refused to eat properly, poking at his food with dramatic sighs.

Hoping to lift his spirits and maybe tempt his appetite, you and Xavier surprised him with a home hotpot dinner. You set everything up together, steaming broth, dumplings, noodles, and dipping sauces, all cozy and warm.

Xavier ruffled your son’s hair as he eyed the food with wary suspicion.

“It’s okay, little star,” Xavier said reassuringly. “Your tooth won’t come out yet. Dumplings are soft, remember?”

You nodded. “Promise, nothing’s gonna fall off tonight.”

That seemed to win him over. He climbed onto his chair, determined to enjoy the feast.

One dumpling.

Two dumplings.

Three.

And on the fourth dumpling, he froze mid chew.

His chewing slowed. His eyes widened. Then he opened his mouth, pointed dramatically, and let out a soft, muffled,

“M-mommy...m-my tooth—”

A tiny plop hit his napkin.

His mouth hung open as you both leaned closer and saw the tiny front tooth, finally out. A little spot of pink lingered on his gums.

You gently scooped it up as Xavier reached for the tissues, already crouching beside your son. “Easy, buddy. Just a little bit of blood—it’s totally okay.”

“I didn’t finish my dumpling,” he mumbled, lower lip trembling a bit. The excitement had fizzled out and now he just looked... done.

You dabbed his gums carefully while Xavier helped him sip some cool water, whispering soothing words.

Next thing you knew, your little guy, still sniffling a little, was curled in Xavier’s lap on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, while you fed him tiny spoonfuls of soft tofu and noodles like he was a sulky little prince.

“Open up, sweetie,” you cooed, offering another bite.

He pouted, but opened his mouth anyway.

“Such a drama king,” Xavier muttered affectionately, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And when he finally smiled, gap toothed and still a bit pouty, you and Xavier couldn’t help but laugh, already imagining how you’d tell this story when he was older.

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formulafanfics13 · 2 days ago

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oscar is mad af after silvo. you've seen him be angry before but never this much. he's taking out all his frustration on reader and is literally hyper focused and i mean dead set on making sure reader's legs are shaking by the time he's done with her. she could cum 3 times back to back but if she can still stand properly then he's not satisfied, he needs this victory after not having the racing one yk?

Showing an Emotion - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

summary: silverstone should've been his. he raced flawlessly. controlled the field. led the damn thing. and then the stewards fucked him. now oscar piastri is furious - not outwardly, not loud, but ice-cold and razor-sharp. and the only way he can process it is by turning that precision and rage on you - by making you cum so many times your legs give out and your body begs for mercy.

warnings: angry dom!oscar, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, power play, psychological domination, leg shaking, semi-rough sex, possessiveness, light restraint, emotionally charged smut, reader is unnamed/undescribed, post-race fury release, dark tone

The door barely closes before he's on you.

No words. No kiss. Just Oscar - stormy-eyed, jaw clenched, still wearing his team kit, and vibrating with something dangerous. His fingers are on your waist, in your hair, tugging your body into his like he needs proof you're real. Like he needs to break something.

You gasp his name. He doesn't answer. Just backs you into the hotel wall with cold, surgical calm, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your thighs like he already knows you're wet for him.

Because you are. You always are. Even when he's like this. Especially when he's like this.

"You saw it," he mutters, voice low and deadly. "You know I had it."

You nod, breathless. "I know, baby. I know."

He still doesn't kiss you. Just stares at you. Like he's studying the weak points in your armor. "They took it," he says. "They gave it to him. After everything."

You don't say Lando's name. You don't say anything.

Oscar's fingers push past your underwear, and you gasp as he finds you already soaking.

His mouth twitches. Not a smile. Something meaner.

"Of course you're wet," he murmurs. "Always so ready to let me use you."

You moan. He doesn't soften.

"You're gonna take it all," he growls. "Every bit of frustration. Every second of what they stole from me."

He sinks to his knees. His tongue is relentless. No teasing. No warm-up. Just full pressure against your clit while two fingers thrust deep inside, curling with mechanical precision.

You cry out, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. His arm locks around your thigh, holding you open, keeping you steady while he devours you like it's his final fucking lap.

"Gonna cum?" he murmurs between strokes. "Already?"

You nod, sobbing. "Please - I'm gonna - Oscar - fuck -"

He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow down. Your orgasm hits like a fucking freight train and he holds you through it, mouth still locked to your cunt, tongue never letting up.

You try to move. To breathe. He drags you down by the hips onto the bed before you can recover.

"I didn't say we were done," he mutters.

You barely have time to gasp before he's inside you. He fucks you like he's chasing redemption. Not rushed - controlled. Precise. Brutal. Like every thrust is part of some internal strategy, some quiet revenge.

Your legs shake. Your body quakes. You've already cum again and he knows, he feels it, and he doesn't let up.

"You think I'm satisfied with that?" he snarls. "You think one little orgasm makes this better?"

You can't speak. You're sobbing his name.

He grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his.

"You don't get to rest," he whispers. "Not until your legs give out. Not until you can't fucking stand."

You nod. You'll take it. You'll take everything.

He flips you over, takes you from behind with ruthless control. His hand snakes between your thighs again. His fingers slide over your swollen clit, and you scream.

Your third orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave. You collapse forward, arms trembling.

Oscar pulls out. Stares down at your shaking thighs.

"You still standing?" he asks.

You don't answer. You can't.

He flips you again. "Good."

It takes four. Four orgasms. One from his mouth. Two from his cock. One from his fingers again while you're already overstimmed and twitching and begging him to stop.

When you finally go limp, legs trembling so hard you can't even kneel, he sighs like he's finally been released from hell.

Then, finally, he kisses you. Gentle. Soft. Like you're breakable. Like he hasn't just torn you apart.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "I just... needed something. Needed a win."

You stroke his hair, still breathless, heart still pounding.

"You have me," you whisper. "That's a win."

He closes his eyes. And for the first time since Silverstone, he exhales.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #OP81 #OP81 mcl #OP81 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fic #post-race smut

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mona-risms · 2 days ago

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How about something more angsty in the KDH Universe?

Basically it's after the movie and Rumi has a girlfriend who supports her dearly and just doesn't know about the whole situation that happened at the show revealing her girlfriend (Fem!Reader). Or at least she doesn't know how Mira and Zoey pointed their weapons at her.

Anyways Huntrix are doing concerts again till at one of the shows the light turns into this dark red and makes Mira and Zoey look like the demons who pulled her jacket off, she then gets scared and runs to her girlfriend who comforts her and maybe even helps the Huntrix to come together again?

◆ MAIN COURSE: Rumi x fem!Reader

◆ TYPE: SFW, romantic

◆ ALLERGEN WARNINGS: N/A

◆ NOTES: I got mad confused at the ask a bit gang 😭 my bad if it's not what you wanted exactly, I took a few creative liberties 😭

I did have a think about this at some point. I THINK I might've said this before, though I'm not sure, but like realistically there's no way you can easily slide past a) seeing your two closest friends essentially expose and shame her in front of millions of people (even if they were demons in disguise) and b) having said friends point weapons at you while actually Scared of you (even if they didn't even know what was going on). That shit has GOT to be traumatising

I'd like to establish things before we get going. Okay so by the point you and Rumi have met and are happily tgt (met during their hiatus :3), the trio have talked about Rumi's half-demon thing and Celine and literally EVERYTHING that needs addressing and Takedown has officially been. Well. Taken down for Rumi's sake, most likely after a run-through of it had her spiralling a bit and Mira and Zoey actually see what happened via a recorded fancam. I say that you meet later bc idt Rumi would really keep the whole thing a secret (no more hiding, especially not from someone she cares about)

Post-movie Rumi would be much more free in terms of showing herself. No more hiding her patterns, no more secrets about who she is—that's all coming out slowly with Mira and Zoey, the fans, and especially you. Ever since the two of you have started dating, she takes EVERY possible moment to tell you what's going on with her and literally just everything. It gets to the point sometimes where you just gotta ask like it's really sweet but she doesn't need to tell you of every single thing that happens in her life!! She immediately always counters it with how she wants you to know all of her, inside AND out 🤷‍♀️ what a green flag :3c

There ARE times when she clams up on instinct, either due to pure instinct drilled into her by Celine or bc something is WAY too painful to relive through 😞. When this is the case, it's usually Extremely Bad. Exhibit A? When they go through a new song of theirs on stage and the light goes red

You will never forget the sight you saw today.

Not when you saw Rumi's face on the jumbotron the moment the stage lights bathed Mira and Zoey in crimson. Not when you heard the whimpering crack in Rumi's voice, completely uncharacteristic of her perfect vocals, when the duo turned to approach her as part of the choreography. Not when she dropped the number altogether by hugging herself and backing away from two of the people she trusted the most before running out of the stage and to you before you helped her back home.

"..Rumi?"

You see her flinch in the ball she shrunk herself into once you finally reached her room, and instead of turning around immediately like she usually did, she just curled up further into herself. You notice her hands—or rather claws now, changed unintentionally in the midst of you escorting her out—digging into her biceps, the patterns that usually emitted a soft iridescent glow now dimmed into a weakly shimmering pink-purple.

You never expected Rumi to be constantly 'on', but with this sight and the sniffles coming from her...

She looked less like a leader and more of a frightened child.

..Yet she was also still the woman you love.

"Rumi," you called out again as you slowly approached her figure, "can I sit next to you?"

Her claws add more pressure on her biceps for a brief moment, but it relents a slight bit when she nods her head tucked in her arms.

You sat down on the bed beside her and despite her current position, she still leaned into your side without fail. You take that as a cue to wrap your arm around her shoulders, letting your fingers soothe her claws by running your thumb over the knuckles.

As much as you want to know what exactly happened, you wanted this woman to go at her own pace when it comes to stuff like this—from what she's told you and from what Mira and Zoey had supplied, her upbringing wasn't particularly.. healthy for her mental state and her self-worth.

So instead, you go for a simple question: "Do you wanna talk about it?"

The two of you simply sit there, and you gaze at the city lights in the same moment she eventually lifts her head slightly, enough for her eyes to peek out, to watch the new shimmering Honmoon that you aren't able to see.

And eventually she does speak, her voice quiet yet shaky, "Maybe. It's.. ugh, I shouldn't even be freaking out like this."

"Why not?"

"Because they're sealed off. I'm freaking out about something that happened ages ago, and now I've ruined an entire concert by running out in the middle of it." Rumi groaned and buried her face back into her arms, "All thanks to some lightshow. ..Sorry, you probably think I'm being way too extra about this."

You let go of her hand to squeeze her shoulder instead, "I think you're a lot of things, and 'extra' is definitely one of them—"

She elbowed you on the side before quickly reverting back to her original position, "You ass—"

"—but right now?" You continued with a wince, though you didn't let go of her, "There's nothing extra about what's happening right now. Seeing how you mention them, I'm guessing this is from before the 'Honmoon' thing or whatever it is?"

A nod.

"Then I don't think you're being extra, I think you need someone to listen. If not me, then maybe the other girls."

"But.. they already know; it's why we scrapped the entirety of Takedown."

"Wouldn't hurt to reconvene. And I think they're equally worried about you," and you move your other hand to lower her arm slightly to look at Rumi's eyes, "if not more."

Her eyes shift, first away from you and then back to you. But eventually she starts to uncurl from her position until she's just sitting and leaning further into your body, which you instinctually wrap your arms around her more as an automatic response.

"..Could we just stay like this for now?" Her claws—now shrunk back into her normal hands—cling onto your clothes as she asked, "Just for now."

You hold her tighter and press a kiss on the crown of her head, "Yeah. For as long as you need."

When you give her enough time, she tells you EVERYTHING that happened back then, detailing exactly how she got foribly revealed in the first place—how Jinu sicced demons disguised as Mira and Zoey to tear her jacket off and reveal her number one shame, how Mira and Zoey made Rumi's number one fear come true by raising their weapons against her, even if it was just as a form of hesitant defence. Even if they've talked about it already, it doesn't necessarily erase the view, especially not under THAT light

You get her calm enough that she ends up sleeping through the emotional exhaustion a bit before you can hear Mira and Zoey coming back from the venue. These poor girls most definitely realised exactly why Rumi tweaked out but they want to make sure via asking you, but any attempt in trying to get out of Rumi's hold just has her clinging even more. And with her natural AND demon strength there is literally no hope for you in getting out. So you'll have to dismiss them until the morning, and Mira would most likely call up Bobby rq just to cancel anything they have tomorrow. Too last minute, yeah, and Bobby will definitely freak out but at the same time he understands and his girls are top priority!!

When you and Rumi wake up, her head cushioned on top of your chest where your heart beats, you find that no words were really needed.

Not when the two of you spend nearly an hour kissing and cuddling amidst the gentle morning haze, your limbs entangled together as if neither of you were meant to be separated. Or when you hold Rumi's hand as you walked out of the room.

Not when Rumi freezes at seeing Mira and Zoey for the first time after last night's incident, at the phantom feeling of her body being shed of fabric she long since no longer wore for personal protection. Or when the two girls had gasped quietly, like they hadn't expected to see their leader this morning even when they saw her last night.

Not when Zoey starts to tear up, her eyes quickly growing glassy as her body shook. Not when Mira was quick to follow as her hand slowly moved to reach out in offer. Not when Rumi's hand slipped from yours as she stumbled into their direction.

And especially not when the three of them had started to sob together once Rumi allowed herself to stumble into their arms, their hands clinging onto each other like the others'll disappear if they let go of each other even the slightest bit.

You know that later, there'll be a lot of words exchanged between the three of them. You know that later, Rumi will want her girlfriend to stay beside her as support as she spoke.

But right now, no words were needed at all.

Safe to say that red stage lights were banned from all of HUNTR/X's performances after that. And maybe someone's getting fired, depends on how extreme you wanna take it

#mona's main course...#rumi x reader #kdh rumi x reader #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters imagines #kdh x reader #kdh imagines #huntrix x reader #huntrix imagines #huntr/x x reader #huntr/x imagines

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n3wlove · 2 days ago

Text

affection

synopsis — taking care of hungover nam-gyu (part 2 to this fic. i suggest you read it before this one so you better understand the plot)

note — i finally enjoy writing again! (this is only a phase, i should be more humble) i'm proud of myself for being able to make a part 2 so fast as the orginal fic took 1 and a half weeks to make. depression is a bitch. anyways, hope this is enjoyed! i could turn it into a series if anyone wants it. maybe. i do want to write something where namgyu and reader are in the games together. also, i'm sorry, this is way shorter and way worse than i wanted it to be, it's just i wanted to post a part 2 quickly. requests are open as always!!

tags — mentions of alcohol, sickness, hangover, fluff, he is very clingy when he is sick, established relationship..ish? y/n and him are very complicated < i know i should cleared that up in the last fic btw—forgive me—i might elaborate on it if theres another part to this :)

The morning poured from the window creating a beautiful glow over Nam-gyu's face. You were the first to wake up. Typical. You turned onto your side, giving you a better view of Nam-gyu beside you. His hair was all over his face, greasy and slick to his skin. Drool poured from his mouth. Yesterday was rough.

You would forget about it, like you usually did, but now, alone with your thoughts, you had time to reflect. Time to wonder what could’ve been different. You tried not to dwell on it because you didn’t want to be frustrated with him when he woke up.

With that, you got up from the bed, stretching your arms over your head and yawning. Behind you, you suddenly heard the sound of shifting sheets.

You glanced over your shoulder. Nam-gyu had started to stir, turning over. You tried to smile at him. But really, there wasn’t much on your face except exhaustion.

Eventually, he had finally awoken fully, though still tired. He squinted in your direction, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. The sunlight seeping in through the window hit him almost instantly, and he let out a low, tired whine.

He pulled the comforter over his head, shielding himself.

Already, your mind was wandering back to the night before. Where Nam-gyu stumbled in drunk. God, he’s hungover.

You sighed, walking toward him, bracing yourself for whatever you would be dealing with.

It wasn’t like this was new. You’d taken care of him while he was hungover more times than you should've. Even before you were 'dating', you were somehow the only one who was there to do it.

After parties, everyone else would disappear, too drunk and too uninterested.

But you always stayed. You didn’t want yourself to reminisce too hard on that though, so you pushed those thoughts to the side. There were better things to think about.

Now, you were already standing at his side of the bed, eyes settling on the way his body curled under the blankets, still half-asleep and visibly distressed.

He was a mess, and you knew you'd help him anyway.

Nam-gyu curled in on himself, noticing your presence. His arms wrapped tight around his stomach. Nausea.

“Hey 'Gyu, you doing okay?” you asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He would let out a small whimper in response, shifting just enough to look at you. And when his gaze met yours, he instantly noticed the way you were actually worried, really worried about him. His cheeks flushed a light pink, and he turned his head away, pressing his face into the pillow, pushing those thoughts aside.

“I'm fine Y/N, I—”

He would begin in an exhausted voice. He didn’t get to finish, his hand flew to his mouth, and he gagged.

Instantly, a wave of panic hit you. You watched, staying still for a few moments, before Nam-gyu threw the blankets off himself and bolted to the bathroom. You followed behind him, heart racing.

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and started puking. You dropped down beside him, carefully sweeping some of his hair out of his face and holding the rest back. You looked away, giving him as much privacy as you could, even though it wasn't much.

When he was done, he sat beside you trembling, sweaty, pale, and barely holding himself up.

You stood up, grabbing a towel from the cabinet and running it under cold water. You knelt back beside him, pressing it to his forehead. You pulled him closer. You noticed how his skin was burning.

Nam-gyu let his head rest on your chest as he stared at the wall, still panting and regaining some composure. You let him, stroking his hair gently.

You finally decided to say something to break the silence.

"Nam-gyu, you should get some rest. C'mere, i'll lead you back to the bed."

He groaned in response, barely resisting as you helped him back to his feet. His movements were unsteady, but you managed to guide him toward the bed successfully.

Once there, he sank down and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, shutting his eyes. You nodded quietly to yourself. He clearly needed the rest more than anything right now.

Right before you turned away to go walk off and make some breakfast, he grabbed you by your sleeve. You looked over at him, confused and a little scared.

"No, stay."

He murmured softly.

You furrowed your brows. He wanted you to stay? But why? You didn't question it too much. He wanted you with him, and if that is what would make him feel better, you would give it to him.

"Okay," you replied. "but first can I make you something? You haven't eaten at all and that might make you feel worse."

Nam-gyu sighed, finally letting his grip on your sleeve go.

"Mhm, sure... be quick."

You smiled, nodding your head. It was good enough of a "sure" for Nam-gyu.

You walked into the kitchen slowly, worry nagging at you. After a minute of standing there deciding what to make him, you decided on hibiscus tea and toast. Not the most practical for a hangover, but it always helped you, and you hoped it would do the same for Nam-gyu.

Seventeen minutes later, you were stepping back into the bedroom, hovering over Nam-gyu’s sick body. You sat everything down carefully on the nightstand beside him, a quiet and worried sigh escaping your lips.

His eyes went up to meet yours. He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared. And you looked back at him, neither of you breaking eye contact. There was something in his gaze that you couldn’t quite name, but it wasn’t mean. It seemed loving.

Eventually, he did look away, and thanked you in a small raspy voice.

"You're welcome 'Gyu."

He ended up demolishing the entire thing in 6 minutes max with a little tea left over. You drank the rest of it, Hibiscus being one of your favorite types.

"Are you going to rest the entire day?" You asked him, grabbing the plate and cup about to take it back to the kitchen.

"Well, I don't have any other things to do." He responded simply.

"Do you feel better?"

"Mmm... barely. I think I would be better if you laid with me for a little bit."

You giggled softly. He always knew how to make you feel like a teenage girl again, even while hungover, he knew the proper words to have you blushing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Give me just a minute." You told him, turning around to head back to the kitchen.

As you walked in and placed the dirty dishes in the sink, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, You opened your messages, tapping on your closest friend, Ara's, contact.

You told her everything of course, every detail about you and Nam-gyu's relationship. That meant telling her even about his situation with the hangover.

you [10:32AM] : hes alive btw

ara [10:34am] : i dont get why you haven't just left him to take care of himself. grown man mind you

you [10:35am] : i wouldve, but someone has to take care of him

you [10:35am] : he threw up first thing this morning it seemed painful

ara [10:35am] : you're always the one taking care of him though, that must get annoying 😭

you [10:36am] : oh trust me it does

you [10:36am] : but i cant help myself from wanting to make sure hes well and safe

ara [10:37am] : you really do love him. so just get married already. save everyone who is waiting for it some time

you [10:37] : not in a million years

You slid your phone back into your pocket, shaking your head. Ara’s words echoed inside your head, and for a moment, you genuinely considered. Why hadn’t you just let him figure it out on his own like she said?

It's not like you were responsible for him. He was the one who came in last night hostile towards you for nothing, drunk out of his mind.

And yes, you were aware that you cared too much. And if someone gave you the option to change that, you wouldn't.

You knew someone had to save Nam-gyu from himself. That someone would be you.

You started to make your way back to the bedroom. When you got there, you quietly shut the door behind you being sure not to startle Nam-gyu. Seeing you walk in, he stretched his arms behind his head. His eyes trailed your body up and down, not judging, just watching.

“So are you gonna get in bed with me or what?” he asked you, cocking his head to the side. You just shrugged, walking over to the other side of the bed.

“You’re really needy,” you stated, slipping under the comforter and immediately curling up beside him.

“What’s wrong with needing my nurse, huh?” he said teasingly with his fingers drifting up to your hair, twirling a strand lazily between them. “I know you like taking care of me.”

You didn't respond to that, just leaned into his touch. There weren't any words that needed to be said, anyways.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. He pulled you closer, his head resting on top of yours. You listened to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, his breath going from even to uneven at times. This time, the silence wasn't haunting or intimidating, it was comforting.

"Thank you again, Y/n." Nam-gyu said suddenly, his voice quieter than how he usually spoke.

"You don't need to thank me. Like you said, I like doing this for you." You quickly responded.

He reacted to your words warmly, the grin he wore when he was satisfied appearing on his face.

"So how about we watch a movie then?" He asked, changing the topic. Before you even got the chance to respond he was already reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing the remote.

"Well, what do you want to watch? I mean, your taste in film kind of sucks." You told him, a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He scoffed. "Film? Are you a movie critic now?"

"Film is just the proper word for movies."

"Yeah, whatever. Since you know so much, pick." He retorted, throwing the remote into your hand. Your mind immediately went blank.

"Okay then,” you said confidently, even though deep down you knew that you were nervous. You decided to pick any movie that looked good from the cover and you ended up with The Lost Boys. It couldn't be that bad since you had always enjoyed stories about vampires.

He raised an eyebrow at the choice, already judging. “You're choosing that? That looks terrible."

“It'll be better than that zombie thing you made me sit through last time.”

"Why are you acting like Train to Busan didn’t destroy you? You were crying all over me by the time it was finished."

You knew he was right, so you just ignored him, hitting play.

The room got quiet after that. Nam-gyu was lying back, propping himself up on a pillow while you eased down beside him. You guys kept some space at first.

However, the more time that passed while the movie was playing the more tired you got. Despite it being morning, Nam-gyu had pulled the black out curtains over the window. It was a dark enough setting for you to sleep in.

At some point, your head gently fell against his shoulder.

He didn’t say anything. He just glanced down at you out of the corner of his eye. He shifted slightly, only to let you feel more comfortable while you slept against him.

You didn’t notice. You were already knocked out.

“You’re cute when you're annoying.” He whispered to himself, though, the message was for you.

Then he turned back to the screen. He wasn't focusing on the movie, because he was distracted by the weight of your head on his shoulder.

Eventually, the movie had ended. The screen was black and the room was completely quiet except for the faint hum of the TV and your occasional snore.

Nam-gyu didn't move. He wanted to, maybe shift a little, get up, get a drink, something. But he didn’t. He stayed right there, making sure you slept okay.

And then finally you had stirred.

You blinked a few times, disoriented, before lifting your head from his shoulder with a lazy groan.

“Shit,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I fell asleep, didn't I?"

He looked over at you like you had just asked him what color the sky was. “You drooled on my hoodie."

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes, pretending you didn't do a thing. “No I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did. Look.”

He said once more, pointing a finger at the drool stain on the center of his hoodie. You shoved his arm, letting your head drop back against the pillow.

"You could’ve just pushed me off then."

He looked at you, hesitating, then looked away. “Didn’t really want to.”

You paused. You didn’t say anything back, and neither did he, not for a while at least. Then, quieter than before, he added, “It wasn’t that bad. You falling asleep on me.”

You looked over at him. Now, he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were still on the blank TV screen like there was something there to watch.

“…Wasn’t that bad for me either,” you finally said. Nothing more was spoken about it after that.

"I think i'll go to sleep again now. Still don't feel that good." He announced, adjusting the comforter on him a bit more.

You simply nodded, decided that you would go back to bed as well.

Ara was right: you really do love him.

asked to be tagged : @ilovecheriies

#fanfiction #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #namgyu #squid game fanfic #squid games #namgyu squid game #squid game season 2 #squid games s2 #squid games x reader #namgyu headcanons #namgyu x reader #squid game season 3

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biasbuck · 1 day ago

Text

BiAsBuck’s July ficrec Jam.

Hi everyone, one week to go until they're back at it with filming! But still a while before we'll have the fam back on our screens. Luckily there's lots of fic to tide us over, and the kink meme's been keeping everyone busy, so I'm back with another round of fic that I've read and loved over the last month. Happy horny heatwave summer?

As always you can find previous rec lists here.

15 July 2025

dirty computer by @themisally when your henren kinkmeme prompt gets filled this brilliantly, what's a girl to do?! *fans self* a fic in which Karen sees the promises on a fucking machine advert as a personal challenge to put her robotics skills to good use and do even better. Taking Hen on quite the experience. So hot and competent and I loved it. Thank you thank you themisally, this was everything!

find another one 'cause he belongs to me by @littlespoonevan I had an absolute blast with this one 'in which Ravi finally agrees with Buck that Eddie is the coolest person alive and the trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley gets a 98th act.' This was such a delightful edition to Ravi thirdwheeling fic oeuvre, and particularly Buck losing his damn mind over it. So funny and ridiculous and sweet.

we're at the starting line, i did my time by @notspecialbabe it's been about five weeks since Eddie first kissed Buck, and now he's happily indulging in checking Buck out and getting his hands on him. Oh, the romantic heat and passion of this fic. Eddie is revelling and the banter is on fire. Loved it so much!

Don't Forget to Update Your Mailing Address by @the-hwaelweg 'in which Eddie buys himself a present, forgets to update his autofilled mailing address, and learns how to say what he wants. Out loud. To another human. AKA the lingerie wrong address fic.' ahhhhh one of my very very favourite tropes, and this was such a brilliant take on it. Eddie's internal rationalisations meeting Buck's unabashed desire. Just gorgeous.

I've crossed the borderline of weightless by @lacerta26 'Buck discovers Eddie is strong enough to take his weight and then proceeds to be really normal about that fact, repeatedly.' God I love it when they're both so totally knowing about what's going on, but flirting on the line of plausible deniability. This was so much fun. What are buddie if not flirtation via a series of ever more evolving trust exercises.

then help me with the crossword in the mornings by @thirdwheelravi in which post-S8, Eddie finds reasons to make Buck stay exactly where he is, and Buck slowly loses his mind over it. Ahhh the emotional hoops and frantic hope is just so good, as they fall even deeper for each other despite best efforts to be total dumbasses...I literally want to roll around in this fic forever.

Clay Sharks & Lemon Loaves by @cal-daisies-and-briars 'When Eddie and Buck start dating, Eddie is horrified to learn that four year-old Jee-Yun has a major grudge against him.' the tags 'the mortifying ordeal of being despised by a four year-old' and 'Jee-Yun is slightly menacing but she's got her reasons' made me laugh out loud, and the entire fic was just as hilarious and heartwarming. Eddie trying so hard to win Jee-Yun over and everyone being amused by it is just an absolute blast to read. I literally couldn't stop smiling reading this one.

Hands in the Dirt by @livesbetweenpages ahhh short but oh so sweet, this is perfect heatwave husbandism, with Eddie planting Buck flowers as a surprise. Just warm and lovely and a joy.

Juices Like Wine by @glorious-spoon from sweet and lovely to some good ol' fashioned monsterfucking!! This is all teeth and claws, Eddie werewolf fic, and Buck absolutely revelling in it. When trapped together during the full moon, Buck and Eddie improvise. All bite and danger, but so much trust. This one will make you awoooo.

private eyes (are watching you) by @buckedupbuttercup more freak4freak shenanigans...'What if at the end of 8x08 Buck finds porn on the iPad… of himself. Because Eddie planted a nanny cam in his loft. OR: Buck and Eddie play a game of voyeurism/exhibitionism gay masturbation chicken.' Truly beyond just fully watching Eddie in full on freak mode, my favourite thing is how much fun they have together once they both start playing games.

After the Night Before by @semperama from first kiss freak outs to sleepy sweaty heatwave first time waking up to each other morning sex, with Buck and Eddie delighting in their presence. Just full on butterflies!! (But if you DO want some more freaky behaviour then don't miss the season 8 bts ryliver fic Horseshoes and Hand Grenades to keep you going what is WRONG with you both...affectionate/derogatory, you decide lmao).

flux and flow by @penofpisces ahhh the hyperspermia Buck sex pollen fic! In which Buck gets blasted in the face by a mysterious plant, and Eddie lends him a hand to keep those symptoms managed. Don your wet weather jackets, folks. And then head on over to pull it to the side and get all up in it for Eddie revelling and feeling himself in a lingerie set, to keep his marriage to Buck spontaneous.

now you're really living by @happydiaz 'There’s a lot to consider, an entire world of sex play he hasn’t dipped his toes into, and yet Eddie’s stuck on the fingering. The pegging. Whatever—something in his ass.' After a tipsy conversation out at drinks with the firefam, Eddie's curiosity is awakened, and he sets out to experiment...only for Buck to walk in at an inopportune moment...Or is it an opportunity? So indulgent and satisfying.

My Satellite by @thekristen999 “I’m not saying he hasn’t always had ‘extremely competent menace with a heart of gold’ energy,” Buck said. “But this is next level. And then I remembered,” he said, snapping his fingers. “During that warehouse call two weeks ago, those barrels tipped over? He got completely doused in some weird chemical.” Something happens to Eddie on a call, and suddenly Buck's finding himself romanced by ever increasing kind gestures grand and small. This one was just so lovely, and really kept me guessing!!

aching now (to let you in) by oneofthesirens Eddie starts hearing Buck's thoughts...and he thinks about Eddie a lot. From domestic considerations, to admiration, to a hundred little kindnesses, sooner or later he's going to stumble on the one thing Buck doesn't want him to hear. The way this develops had me chin in hands at them both!

That's all for this month folks, but don't forget to check out my daily ficrec tag, where there's even more goodness from this talented fandom updated as I find it!

#biasbuck recs #buddie #911 abc #buddie fic #buddie ficrec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic rec #henren #henren ficrec #911 fic #911 ficrec #911 fic rec #trying out a totally random posting time let's see how this goes

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sapphoagapova · 2 days ago

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sweats… skips shadley …. Lip n tongue piercinfs…. Reader faceriding hhim n when he gets the memo that reader’s afraid of putting their full weight on him he just . Yanks them down with or without warning . This is further into their relationship cuz i js know his ass gets bold when hes comfortable . Many other things in my head but this is the one that comes outta those thoughts. One of which being just simply domming him when ur fresh into the relation of the ship and playing into those sweet suppressed kinks that he’s hiding cuz hes shy and probably still nervous . SHAKES im normal

Hhhhiiii i saw ur post from one hour ago ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ — leopard anon (perchance) 🐾⚡️

#CONTAINS: Face-sitting, blowjobs, multiple orgasms, possibly OOC, first time writing smut, so it could potentially be bad!! #SYNOPSIS: You and Skips lounge on the porch, the smoke curling lazily between your lips as the night wraps around you both. You’ve been together for a while now, and with every flirtatious glance and lingering touch, the thought of finally taking him to bed grows harder to ignore. #AUTHORSNOTE: This is my first time writing smut, so this could be bad, and it isn't exactly what Anon wanted, but! Hey! More Skips Shadley content! Word count: 6k words.

The porch was worn but warm, still holding the heat of the day in its wood like a secret it hadn’t decided to let go of. The faded boards creaked gently beneath shifting weight, soft as an old sigh. Cracks in the paint curled like brittle paper left too long in the sun, the remnants of once-bold colour now ghosted over by time. Somewhere in the yard, wind stirred the tall grass just enough to remind you the world was still moving—that beyond this quiet frame, time hadn’t stopped. A lone cicada buzzed and fell silent again. The trees swayed lazily, casting shadows that reached but never quite touched the porch. But up here, in this in-between space of light and hush, everything felt paused—like the breath before a question, the stillness before someone speaks, the moment that asks you to stay just a little longer.

A flame bloomed in Skips’ cupped hands, briefly lighting up the shadows clinging to his face. The joint caught with a low, satisfying sizzle, the sound barely rising above the hum of the night. He took a slow, measured hit—eyes half-lidded, mouth barely parting as the smoke filled his lungs—and held it there for a beat before exhaling in a soft stream that curled into the air like fog. Without a word, he passed it to you, fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. The ember glowed faintly in the dark, a small orange pulse between two fingertips, casting flickering light on chipped nail polish and the silver ring he always wore. Crickets chirped lazily in the background, and the scent of weed and woodsmoke mixed in the thick summer air.

You were curled up with Skips in a blanket pile, sunk into the worn wooden stairs of the porch like the two of you had always belonged there. The world was quiet in that fuzzy, slowed-down way it gets when the high hits just right. The joint sat snug between your lips as you took a deep breath, the ember glowing brighter for a moment before you let the smoke roll out, slow and sweet. It drifted into the warm night air, catching the porch light like fog in a dream. You let your head fall gently onto Skips’ shoulder, your cheek brushing against the fabric of his hoodie, worn soft from too many washes.

"You know, I'm fucking glad someone in this house smokes—it's been real lonely since Sam moved to another state," you mumbled, your voice heavy and honest, your words stretching out like syrup. "And I'm real glad the 420 wasn't bullshit." You waved the joint for emphasis, the ember leaving a lazy streak of light in the dark. Skips didn’t say anything at first—he didn’t know who Sam was, only that you talked about them a lot, someone from 'thiscord,' some far-off corner of your phone—but he understood the tone, the soft ache behind it.

He leaned into your head, his own weight warm and grounding against yours. “I mean,” he murmured, “I did put that on my handle to look cool before actually smoking weed.”

That made you huff a laugh, short and real, and the smoke slipped out with it. The porch creaked beneath you both like it was laughing too. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed, headlights casting brief shadows across the yard before disappearing. Time felt far away. All that mattered was the warm spot your bodies made on the porch, the joint flickering like a tiny star between you, and the shared quiet that said more than either of you needed to.

"So, you manifested it?" you grinned, the corner of your mouth tugging up as you raised a teasing brow, the joint lazily held between your fingers like a wand mid-spell. The smoke drifted past your face, catching in your lashes, softening everything.

Skips shrugged, trying to look casual, but the porch light betrayed him. A faint yellow blush bloomed across his cheeks, warm against the usual stillness of his face. He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away just for a second. “Probably,” he muttered, lips tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but close. “I got curious.”

“Well, it does bring the satisfaction,” you murmured, tapping ash from the joint with a practiced flick before taking another hit. The smoke curled around your words, lazy and warm. You sat up, peeling yourself away from Skips’ shoulder—much to his quiet disappointment. The place where your head had rested felt oddly empty now, like the heat had been sucked out of it.

You leaned back on your hands, spine arched, chin tilted toward the stars. The porch light threw a faint glow over your features, but your eyes were far away—glassy with more than just the high. There was a story flickering there, pulling you somewhere else entirely.

“Sam and I used to smoke like this all the time,” you said, your voice softer now, but with that hazy fondness only old friendships carry. You passed the joint back to Skips. “Back in our college apartment, we’d roll up, blast some weird SoundCloud artist no one had ever heard of, and just… lose hours. Talked mad shit. Laughed until we cried.”

Skips blinked slowly, the image already forming in his mind. You always painted things in colours that stuck.

“And we had this really stupid tradition—whenever we hooked up with someone and never talked to them again, we’d steal their belts.”

Skips turned to you, brows slightly raised. “You stole them?”

You grinned, impish and unapologetic. “We called it the ‘Belt Wall.’ Had like ten at one point. All different styles. It was like a shrine to bad decisions.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s… honestly kind of impressive.”

“What can I say? I’m quite good in bed,” you bragged, a sly grin curling at your lips. You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could feel his attention shift.

Skips raised a brow, head tilted slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeated, dragging out the word with playful confidence. “I got into all sorts of kinks.”

He hummed, a low, amused sound in his throat. Not disbelief, not judgement—just curiosity tucked inside something unreadable. It made your stomach tighten, just a little.

Admittedly—well, not admittedly, since you hadn’t said it out loud—you’d been eyeing him for a while now. Not just in passing glances or harmless daydreams, but in that slow-burning, aching kind of way. The kind where his hoodie smelt too good, his voice stuck to your skin, and every accidental touch sparked something dangerous and warm. The kind where you wondered, quietly, desperately, what it would be like to finally take him to bed.

Sure, you were dating. The label was there. You kissed, you cuddled, you shared joints and stupid inside jokes and blanket piles on creaking porches—but you hadn’t done it yet. Not that you were rushing, but the question hovered. Lingered. Grew louder in moments like this.

You wondered what he liked. What made his breath hitch. What made him shy. What he’d let you do if you asked nicely—or not-so-nicely. You wondered what he wouldn’t like. If he’d trust you enough to say so. If he’d blush when you leaned close and whispered things only meant for dim rooms and locked doors.

Your gaze slid to him, sharp but playful. “What about you?” you asked, voice a little softer, a little slower. “You into anything?”

Skips choked a little on his own breath—subtle, but enough that you noticed. He cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck, and then finally glanced at you with a lopsided smile that was all nerves and not enough confidence to cover them up.

“I mean… maybe,” he mumbled, not quite meeting your gaze. “Kinda depends who’s asking.”

You smiled wide, shameless. “Someone who’s been hoping you’d end up in their bed.”

That definitely made him blush. He looked down at his lap, a low laugh escaping him, flustered and warm. “You can’t just say shit like that while I’m high,” he muttered.

But he didn’t say no. And that flicker in his eyes? That wasn’t hesitation—it was permission.

You licked your lips slowly, deliberately, eyes lingering on his mouth—the way it twisted nervously, how he chewed at the inside of his cheek like he didn’t know what to do with your attention. The way his gaze flicked anywhere but yours only made you want him more. There was something about the way he got shy that stirred something deep in your chest. You wanted to pull every sound out of him, every hidden thought, every quiet little please.

“Come on,” you said, tilting your head, your voice dipping low and velvety as you leaned in just a little. “What are you into?”

He shifted beside you, pulling the blanket a little higher like it would shield him. “Why’re you asking like that?” he muttered, clearly flustered, eyes still not on you.

You just smiled, slow and indulgent. “I’ll go first, if it helps.” He didn’t respond, but you caught the way his shoulder tensed slightly, like he was bracing for something.

You let the words slip out, soft and intimate. “I really like body worship,” you said, watching him closely. “Giving, receiving. Slow, drawn out. Making someone feel like they’re sacred.”

That earned a reaction—barely a flicker in his expression, but it was there. His jaw shifted. His hands twitched. You could practically feel him trying not to react.

He cleared his throat, mumbling, “That’s pretty vanilla.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Mm. I can be kinkier.” You shrugged like it was no big deal, but your eyes stayed locked on him, steady and inviting. “Come on. What’s yours?”

He hesitated, a long pause stretching out between you like something fragile and waiting. Then, finally, his voice came out—barely above a whisper.

“I think I like… being told what to do,” he said, not meeting your eyes, cheeks already flushed. “Not like, super hardcore stuff. Just… being guided. Pushed around a little.”

That made your breath hitch, just slightly. It was subtle, but it rippled through your chest like a shiver, sparked by the quiet confession he'd barely managed to get out. He hadn’t even looked at you when he said it—had barely whispered it like the words themselves were fragile—but they hit you like a brick.

You leaned in, slow and deliberate, your voice low enough that only he could hear, like you were handing him a secret in the dark. “You like being taken care of,” you murmured, letting the words linger in the space between you. Your smile deepened, soft and dangerous all at once. “And maybe… a little controlled?”

Skips made a sound—barely a groan, more like a breath catching on the edge of embarrassment—and dropped his face into his hands. His ears were burning red now, and his shoulders curled up like he could hide inside the blanket between you. “Why are you saying it like that—”

“Because you’re cute when you’re squirming,” you teased, nudging his knee with yours, tone playful but with just enough gravity to make your meaning clear. You didn’t need to push harder than that—he was already unraveling, just from this.

He didn’t answer immediately, just let out a breathy laugh into his hands, muffled and helpless. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t shift back. If anything, his body leaned a little closer to yours, like he didn’t want to admit how much the tension was affecting him—but couldn’t help but give in to it anyway.

You watched him for a second, just breathing him in—the nervous fidgeting, the flushed skin, the way his knee brushed yours and didn’t move. He was trying so hard to hold on to his composure, and he was failing in the prettiest way.

You reached up, slowly, gently curling your fingers around his wrists—his skin warm under your touch, pulse fluttering beneath your thumb. He froze for a moment but didn’t resist, letting you guide his hands away from his face like you were peeling back the last layer of hesitation between you. And there he was. His cheeks were flushed—soft, warm, unmistakably golden under the porch light, like the glow had settled into his skin. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide and uncertain, but so full of something you’d both been pretending not to notice for weeks now. Maybe longer. You stared at him for a beat, mouth parting, breath catching at the sight of him—so shy, so exposed, and still not pulling away.

“…You’re really pretty,” you whispered. It slipped out like breath, like instinct, like the truth had been on your tongue for too long and finally decided to fall out on its own.

His eyes widened just slightly, like the words stunned him. Like they struck some small, hidden place inside him that didn’t know how to handle softness. His lips parted in surprise, and he opened his mouth to say something—but nothing came out. He looked at you like you’d cracked something open in him. Like no one had said it quite like that before. Or maybe no one had said it and meant it. The air around you was thick now, tense but tender, full of things that didn’t need to be said. You could hear both of your breathing. You could feel the way your knees touched, the way the heat between you had slowly gone from playful to something that throbbed at the base of your spine.

You didn’t move. You didn’t need to. Because Skips did.

He leaned in—tentative at first, still testing the gravity between you, still not totally convinced this was real. His hand found your thigh, warm and trembling just slightly, grounding himself. His other hand hovered by your cheek, fingers twitching with hesitation before brushing against your jaw with the gentlest touch, like you might vanish if he grabbed too tightly. Then he kissed you. Soft. Sweet. Careful, like a question asked in the dark. Like a secret shared between two people who’d been tiptoeing toward each other for far too long.

You didn’t hesitate. You kissed him back with everything you’d been holding back—slow, full, sure. His lips were warm and plush, a little unsure, but they moved with yours like he’d thought about this before. Dreamed about it. Maybe even replayed it in his head late at night, just like you had.

His hand tightened slightly on your thigh, and you shifted closer, your hand sliding up his arm to rest against his chest. You could feel his heart beating fast, matching your own, both of you caught in something that wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything you hadn’t said finally collapsing into touch. Your fingers moved without thought, instinct taking over as your hand slid up the side of his neck and into his hair—dark, soft, slightly messy from the way he kept nervously running his hands through it all night. You buried your fingers there, gently at first, but then you gripped tighter, tugging just enough to test him.

That was when he groaned—quiet, caught off guard, and pressed right against your mouth. The sound vibrated into you like a shiver, low and breathy, full of surprise and need. It wasn’t loud, but it was honest. His lips faltered against yours for a heartbeat, like the sensation short-circuited something in him, and then he kissed you harder, leaning into your body, like he wanted to melt into your skin. You swallowed the noise he made, greedy for more.

The kiss deepened—slow, but messier now, less careful. He was still shy, still flushed, but your touch seemed to pull something out of him. Something he didn’t know how to name. Like your fingers in his hair unlocked a door he hadn’t meant to open just yet. You tugged again, just slightly, watching how his breath hitched, how his hands tightened on your thighs as though to anchor himself.

And god, that sound.

He eased you back with a gentle press, and the moment your body gave way, darkness swept over you like a velvet tide. You barely registered the shift—only the plush give of something soft cradling your spine. Still, you hadn’t let go of him. Not yet. It felt too good, too overwhelming, like a fever you didn’t want to break.

You whimpered when he pulled away from your mouth, but he didn’t go far—only dipped lower, lips grazing your neck with heat and hunger. The sound you made was involuntary, a breathy moan that escaped before you could stop it. Still, the pause gave your eyes a moment to wander, adjusting to the dim glow bleeding through strands of shadow.

You recognized it now—this realm, this oddly intimate bubble of space. The same pocket dimension where you first crossed paths with him under the alias xxxshadowlord420xxx. Only now, the void had been furnished with personality: band posters clung to the dark walls like relics from a forgotten era—emo names only the most online would remember. A dented CD rack leaned drunkenly in the corner, stuffed to the brim. An old computer hummed in the corner, its desktop a cluttered mosaic of downloads and chaotic nostalgia. The place reeked of teenage angst and digital sanctuary. An emo bedroom, unmistakably his.

And yet, even with your back against what might’ve been a mattress and your gaze trailing across the cluttered shrine of who he was, your hands remained hooked around him, refusing to let go.

“Fuck…” you breathed, the word slipping out in a shaken whisper as his teeth sank into your skin. A sharp sting bloomed beneath the surface, and your fingers instinctively tangled in his shadowy hair. Sensing your jolt, he eased the pressure, his lips softening as he pressed a gentle kiss to the same spot, a quiet apology written in heat and tenderness. The contrast—the bite and then the balm—made your pulse thrum in your throat, your body caught somewhere between ache and surrender.

Your fingers trailed languidly through the silken strands of his raven locks, each tooth releasing from the tender flesh of his scalp as your hand began its retreat. The air felt cool and foreign against your dampened fingertips as they descended, a whisper of sensation lingering in their wake. Gently, almost reverently, your palm cupped the growing heat of his arousal, the hard length of him twitching against your touch like a brand of living steel. His breath, once ragged and desperate, began to slow and steady as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, the warmth of your skin and the scent of your essence seeming to soothe the ragged edges of his hunger. The room fell silent save for the soft, shuddering inhales and exhales that ghosted over your collarbone, a haunting melody of sated desire and lingering need.

In a flurry of eager hands and rustling fabric, you and Skips worked to divest him of his shirt, the garment falling away to reveal his toned, gray-skinned torso. Your eyes widened slightly as they fell upon the glint of metal adorning his nipples - a pair of intricate, circular barbells that caught the dim light, their surface a darker shade of gray than his natural skin tone. A smirk played at the corners of your mouth, a teasing glint sparkling in your eyes as you took in the sight of the piercings.

"Spicy…" You murmured, your voice laced with playful mischief. A pretty blush crept across Skips' cheeks, the rare display of color on his pallid skin only serving to make him look more alluring. He ducked his head, trying to hide the way his ears burned, but you could see the pleased smile tugging at his lips beneath his unkempt hair. It seemed your approval meant more to him than he let on, his body language betraying a hint of the vulnerability hidden beneath his usual aloof exterior.

You leaned back against the headboard, taking a moment to fully appreciate Skips' newly exposed form. Your gaze drifted over the tantalizing sight of his nipple piercings, the glint of metal a delicious contrast to his smooth, gray skin. You followed the line of his happy trail, the narrow path of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, drawing your eye downwards. Your breath caught slightly as your attention was caught by the growing bulge at his crotch, his arousal evident and impressive even through the fabric.

As you drank in every detail of Skips' appearance, you saw his expression shift, a becoming blush staining his fair skin. He ducked his head shyly, trying to hide the way his ears burned beneath the tousled fall of his hair. "Please, don't look at me like that..." Skips murmured, his usual bravado deserting him in the face of your blatant admiration. There was a rare vulnerability in his eyes as he peeked up at you from beneath sooty lashes, a hint of the man beneath the "cool" facade. It was clear your gaze affected him deeply, igniting a warmth within him that had little to do with lust.

"I can't help it, you're breathtaking," you murmured, your voice low and heavy with admiration. As if drawn by an invisible force, your hand began to explore the expanse of Skips' chest, your fingers trailing up to gently pinch and roll his pierced nipple between them. The action elicited a sharp gasp from Skips, his breath escaping him in a shuddering pant as your lips began their own sensual journey across his skin.

You peppered his neck with tender kisses, your mouth mapping the column of his throat with a reverence that made Skips' pulse jump beneath your lips. You traced the line of his collarbone with the tip of your tongue before dipping lower, your kisses trailing downwards until you reached his other nipple. Skips arched into your touch with a low, drawn-out moan, the sound rumbling from his chest like distant thunder. His skin was hot and smooth beneath your mouth, the metal of his piercing cool in contrast. You lingered there for a moment, laving the sensitive bud with attention until Skips was writhing on top of you, his body thrumming with pleasure and need.

As your teasing touches and tender kisses inflamed Skips' desire, you felt him begin to move against you with increasing urgency. He ground his hips into your thigh, the rough denim of his jeans creating a delicious friction that made him gasp and shudder. His movements grew more insistent, almost desperate, as he rutted against you like a dog in heat. The evidence of his arousal was unmistakable, the hard, thick line of his cock straining against the confines of his trousers as he sought more of that maddening pressure.

At the same time, Skips' fingers tightened in your hair, gripping the strands with a fervor that bordered on pain. He used the grip to pull you closer, to crush your lips more firmly against his chest, demanding more of your touch. His breath came in hot, ragged pants, the sound of his increasingly labored breathing filling your ears as he lost himself in the haze of sensation.

As your lips and fingers retreated from Skips' now-tender nipples, a sound of protest escaped him - a needy whine that caught in his throat, his body arching upwards as if to chase your touch. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, his skin prickling with goosebumps and his muscles coiled tight with tension. But there was no time to linger on his discomfort, not when the evidence of his arousal was so prominent, so urgently demanding attention.

With a shared look of playful conspirator, you and Skips set to work divesting him of the last of his clothing. Your deft fingers made quick work of his belt, the leather strap slipping free of its loops with a soft clink. At the same time, Skips' own hands fumbled with his zipper, the metal teeth parting ways with a hiss as he wrenched the denim open. Together, you both tugged and wriggled, Skips lifting his hips to aid in the process as he shimmied out of the constrictive jeans. The tight fabric resisted for a moment before giving way, the dark denim sliding down his legs to pool around his ankles. Soft giggles escaped your lips at the slightly comedic moment.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against the damp fabric of Skips' boxers, feeling the intense heat radiating from his straining erection. "Penumbra..." he gasped, his voice thick with need as you lavished his most sensitive area with gentle kisses. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and he found himself drowning in the depths of your gaze - a swirling mix of love and lust that made his heart clench and his cock throb with anticipation.

Unable to resist any longer, you peeled his boxers down, freeing his impressive length from its cotton prison. It sprang up, slapping against his stomach, the thick shaft flushed a deep, angry red and leaking with desire. Before Skips could even process the sudden exposure, you had already wrapped your lips around his cock, your mouth engulfing his aching flesh in a warm, slick embrace.

A guttural moan tore from Skips' throat, his head leaning back as his hips jerked upwards, driving himself deeper into your mouth. His fingers tightened in your hair, gripping the strands with a desperate intensity as he fought the urge to thrust, to fuck your face with wild abandon.

Heeding Skips' desperate plea, you took him a few tantalizing inches deeper, your lips stretching to accommodate his generous girth. You could feel the thick, pulsing heat of him throbbing against your tongue as you began to bob your head, taking him in and then pulling back, setting a steady rhythm. The musky, slightly bitter taste of his arousal flooded your senses, a heady elixir that made your head swim and your core clench with desire.

Your fingers gripped the base of his shaft, pumping in time with the movement of your mouth, stroking the velvety skin that was so hard and yet so sensitive. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the unique map of his desire etched into the hot flesh beneath your fingertips. Skips' breath grew harsher, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as you worked him with lips and tongue and hand, stoking the flames of his lust ever higher.

"oooooh, fuck! Penumbra!" he let out a needy groan. "I'm—I'm about to erupt—!"

Skips' hips began to move with increasing urgency, no longer able to hold back as he fucked into the warm, welcoming haven of your mouth. His grip on your hair turned almost punishing as he set a relentless pace, his cock driving in and out, in and out, the thick length plunging past your lips and hitting the back of your throat with each powerful thrust. You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his body, his muscles drawn taut like a bowstring ready to snap.

With a roar that was equal parts pleasure and agony, Skips slammed his hips forward one final time, burying himself to the hilt in the clutch of your throat. At the same moment, his cock jerked and pulsed, the thick shaft throbbing as it unleashed a torrent of hot, bitter seed directly down your gullet. You had only a split second to prepare before the first spurt of his release flooded your mouth, the sheer volume of it catching you off guard.

You tried your best to swallow it down, to gulp and swallow and breathe through your nose as Skips emptied himself into you, his cum shooting out in seemingly endless ropes of thick, viscous fluid. But it was too much, too fast, and you found coughing out his essences, pulling back.

"Oh—Oh, my god—I am so sorry—" He gently held your shoulders as you continued to cough out, "Are you okay?"

“No—” you choked on your own breath, coughing once before forcing a laugh. “—It’s fine! Never been better.” Your voice wavered just enough to betray you, even as that lovesick grin stretched across your face. It looked dreamy—almost dazed—like someone high on affection and denial all at once.

“God, you look insane.” He laughed, breathless and amused. You laughed too, cheeks warm as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, trying to compose yourself.

“Uhm…” You glanced away for a moment, your eyes flickering toward the floor before returning to him. “Wanna keep going?”

“Re—Really?” His eyes widened slightly, lips parted in quiet surprise. “A—Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” you murmured, fingertips drifting gently across his bare chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the thrum of his heartbeat beneath it. “I still have some stamina…”

His hand found yours, holding it in place for a second longer. “Well… I do wanna make you feel good this time…”

You smiled softly. “Yeah?”

He nodded, voice low. “Yeah…”

“Uhm… so what do you wanna do to me?” you asked, shifting where you sat, trying to sound casual despite the heat creeping up your neck.

“Oh! Uhm…” He fumbled for words, eyes darting away before returning to you with hesitant boldness. “I was hoping you’d…”

You leaned in slightly, your voice low and teasing. “I’d…?”

His breath hitched. “Sit on my face.”

The moment hung suspended—his face blooming a bright, embarrassed yellow, like someone caught in a dream he didn’t expect to say out loud. His ears twitched. Yours probably burned.

You looked him up and down, biting your lip as if already tasting the thought. A soft giggle escaped you before your hands slid to his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with ease. The room shifted with your movements, and in seconds, you were on top—straddling him, your thighs framing his hips, confidence glinting in your eyes like a dare.

You leaned down and crashed your mouth against his, lips dragging with a greedy, open-mouthed hunger. Your tongue lapped at his, not so much a kiss as a claim—fast, wet, and messy. His breath hitched sharply beneath you as your teeth scraped his bottom lip, and you swallowed the sound he made. Hands gripped, clutched, pulled—neither of you caring about finesse, just the heat, the urgency, the ache of wanting more.

You quickly slipped your shorts down your legs, kicking them off to the side. You were left in nothing but your damp panties, the flimsy fabric clinging to your aching sex, a testament to your own arousal. His hands were already reaching for you, his fingers slipping beneath the elastic of your panties with a sense of urgency. "Eager…" You teased yet obeyed his desire.

you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your drenched panties and shimmied out of them, the flimsy fabric sliding down your legs to pool on the bed beside you. Baring yourself fully to Skips' heated gaze, you swung your leg over to straddle his face, your dripping sex now hovering mere inches above his lips.

Skips' eyes darkened with lust as he took in the glorious sight of your naked, glistening folds, the heady aroma of your arousal filling his nostrils. His hands gripped your thighs, long fingers splaying over the smooth skin as he held you steady, positioning you exactly where he wanted you.

You bit your lip, a thrill of anticipation and a flicker of nervousness dancing in your eyes as you gazed down at Skips' dark, intense gaze. "Ready?" you whispered, your voice breathy and laden with desire.

Skips eagerly nodded, his eyes blazing with a feral hunger that made your pulse jump. He didn't wait for you to lower yourself to him, but instead, he surprised you with a sudden, forceful tug on your thighs. Skips demonstrated an astonishing strength as he easily pulled you down, your dripping sex slamming against his waiting mouth with a lewd, obscene sound. His lips parted instantly, his tongue delving between your folds to lap at your dripping essence with a desperate, almost starving fervor.

"Oh!" you gasped, your back arching as a jolt of pleasure shot through you. Skips' tongue was relentless, stroking and delving, teasing your sensitive flesh with a skill that left you breathless. He seemed determined to taste every drop of your arousal, to drink his fill of your nectar until he was sated. Your hesitation melted away as he feasted on your sex, his mouth and tongue and lips working in tandem to stoke the flames of your desire ever higher. The sensation of his mouth on your aching, needy body was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it stealing your breath and making your head spin.

Your fingers tangled almost desperately in Skips' long, silky hair, gripping the dark strands as if your life depended on it. Broken gasps and wanton moans spilled from your lips, interspersed with breathless pleas and curses. "Fuck, Skips..." you panted, your voice ragged and raw with desire. "Fuck, yes, just like that..."

Skips needed no further encouragement. He doubled his efforts, plunging his tongue deep into your dripping channel with a newfound fervor. He fucked your cunt with a wild abandon, his tongue pumping in and out, stroking your most sensitive spots with a skill that left you seeing stars. The obscene sound of his mouth working over your sex filled the room, punctuated by your increasingly high-pitched cries of ecstasy.

At the same time, Skips' hands roamed your body, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and squeezing, urging you to grind yourself against his face. His thumbs brushed over your clit, circling and teasing the swollen nub, sending jolts of electricity zinging up your spine.

You ground your dripping sex against Skips' face with wild abandon, your hips undulating in a primal dance as old as time itself. Your chest heaved with each ragged, desperate breath, the rise and fall of your breasts matching the relentless rhythm of Skips' tongue plunging into your aching core. You bit your lip hard enough to leave a mark, your teeth sinking into the tender flesh as you struggled to muffle the wanton moans and cries that threatened to spill from your throat.

Your fingers tightened their grip on Skips' hair, fisting the silky strands as you held his face flush against your dripping folds. You could feel the scrape of his stubble against your inner thighs, the slight abrasion a delicious contrast to the slick slide of his tongue as it fucked your cunt with a wild, almost punishing fervor. Your body moved of its own accord, grinding and rolling, chasing the pleasure that only Skips could give you.

You could feel your thighs beginning to tremble and quake beneath Skips' skilled ministrations, the muscles fluttering and tensing as your climax approached. Skips, ever attuned to your body's every reaction, could sense your impending release long before you had to utter a word. His obsidian eyes flicked up to meet yours, blazing with a dark, triumphant intensity as he redoubled his efforts, spurred on by the knowledge that he had brought you to the brink of ecstasy.

With a low, approving growl that vibrated through you, Skips plunged his tongue even deeper into your dripping cunt. He fucked your channel with a wild, almost feral intensity, his tongue pumping in and out, stroking your most sensitive spots with a breathtaking skill that left you seeing stars. At the same time, his lips sealed around your clit, suckling the swollen nub with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He teased the underside with the tip of his tongue, flicking and circling, before closing his lips and suckling harder, determined to drink down every last drop of your release.

"Fuck! Skiiippsss!" You cried out, your voice dissolving into a drawn-out, keening wail as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, back arching sharply as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending, setting your skin ablaze and your heart pounding. Skips' fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he relentlessly worked you through your climax, his tongue never pausing in its relentless assault on your spasming sex.

Warm, molten heat flooded your core as your walls clenched and fluttered around Skips' plundering muscle, gripping it like a velvet vise. Your thighs trembled violently, quaking and jerking as you rode out the intense waves of your release. Broken sobs and gasps tumbled from your lips, punctuated by the shameless grinding of your hips, your body instinctively seeking to prolong the mind-blowing ecstasy that Skips had unleashed within you.

Skips drank down your essence greedily, his lips and tongue and chin slick with your dripping arousal. He seemed determined to taste every last drop, to swallow down your pleasure until he was drunk on it, addicted to the flavor of your desire.

With your legs still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense climax, you forced yourself to unstraddle Skips' face. You collapsed onto the bed beside him, your chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath, your skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration. You turned your head to the side, your eyes widening as you took in the debauched sight of Skips' face—his chin and lips slick with your dripping arousal, his obsidian eyes glazed and unfocused from the thorough tongue-lashing he had just given you.

"Holy fuck..." you breathed, your voice ragged and raw from your cries of ecstasy. Skips' chest rose and fell rapidly beside you, his own breathing labored from the exertion of his enthusiastic ministrations. A few stray strands of his long, dark hair clung to his face, plastered there by the slick evidence of your shared passion. The sight of him, the raw, primal intensity etched into every line and curve of his cum-drunk features, sent a fresh shiver of desire rippling through your sated body. You knew you should say something more, something profound or poetic, but all you could manage was a breathless, awestruck… "Hi…"

Skips let out a low, boyish giggle, his voice still thick with leftover heat. “Hey…”

You turned your head slightly toward him. “That was…” you exhaled, your lips curving into a hazy smile, “really nice. Amazing, even… You were really good.” Your voice came out soft, awestruck, like you were still floating somewhere between reality and whatever place he had just taken you to.

Skips leaned in and kissed you, and instantly, you tasted yourself on his lips—a lingering reminder of everything that had just happened. But this time, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. It wasn’t driven by need. How could it be, when you’d already had him, already reached that high together. No—this kiss was different. It was slow, tender. His lips moved against yours like he was savoring you now, not devouring. It was soft. Loving. Like he was kissing you not just because he could—but because he wanted to stay in this moment just a little longer.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he murmured, voice low and still a little breathless. He sat up from the bed, muscles shifting under his skin as he reached over to a nearby drawer. He pulled out a towel, but before handing it to you, he brought one corner to his mouth, wiping the slick from his lips—your slick—from earlier. The motion was unhurried, almost casual, but something about it felt intimate… Reverent. Like he wasn’t trying to erase what happened, just tidy the edges of something already perfect.

He walked over to you, the towel still warm in his hands, and knelt between your legs with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity from before. Carefully, he wiped the glistening mess from your thighs—your release still slick against your skin. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as if he didn’t want to make you flinch or break the moment’s quiet. Once he was done, he leaned in, giving you a soft, lingering peck on the lips—not rushed, not demanding, just a quiet kiss that said everything without needing a single word.

"I think I love you."

I hope you enjoy!! I literally forgot about his tongue-piercing and I cried when I found out.

#xxxshadowlord420xxx #skips shadley #date everything skips #skips date everything #date everything #skips shadley x reader

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delilahsturniolo · 4 hours ago

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˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡ SAY YOU’RE SORRY . . . chris sturniolo

⤷ in which . . . you refuse to apologize for being bratty, resulting in chris not giving you what you want until you do

⤷ warnings . . . smuuuuutttt, cockwarming, slight orgasm denial, use of pet names, riding, spanking, dom!brattamer!chris, degradation, dirty talk, slight praise.

⤷ written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

you've been a brat all day, teasing and taunting chris with your body, snapping at him with an attitude that you know will piss him off. you know how much he wants you, but you can't help but make him work for it a little bit. eventually, though, you decide to give in and straddle his lap, sinking down onto his hard cock with a satisfied sigh.

but chris isn't going to let you off that easily. his strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place on his lap so that you can't move. you whine and squirm, trying to grind down on his cock, but he won't let you.

"say sorry," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "apologize for being such a brat, or you're not going to get what you want." you pout, refusing to give in. "no," you say petulantly. "i don't want to!”

chris smirks, and then in one quick motion, he flips you over so that you're bent over his lap, your ass in the air. he brings his hand down on your ass cheek with a sharp smack, and you yelp in surprise.

"oh yeah? so that means you don’t want to cum, right?” he says, rubbing his hand over your stinging skin. you frantically shake your head, but still refusing to give in, and he spanks you again, harder this time. you can feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

"fine," chris says, his voice almost mocking. "if you won't apologize, then i guess i'll just have to keep spanking you, right?” he continues to slap blows down on your ass, each one harder than the last. not to hurt you, just to ground you and make you want more. you can feel yourself getting more and more desperate, your need for release growing with every spank.

finally, you can't take it anymore. "fuck—i'm sorry!" you whine, your voice breaking. "i'm sorry, please, i'll do anything, just let me cum..”

chris chuckles darkly, and then he's flipping you back over, letting you straddle his lap once again. "good girl, wasn’t so hard right?” he purrs, thrusting up into you hard. "now ride my cock like a good little slut, mkay?” you moan, finally getting the friction you need as you start to move your hips. chris's hands grip your waist tightly, guiding your movements as he fucks you from below, your boobs bouncing as you grind your hips.

"you like that, don't you?" he growls, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "you like riding my cock, getting told how much of a slut you are, don't you baby?” you nod frantically, too lost in pleasure to form words. chris just laughs, thrusting up into you even harder.

"that's right," he says, his voice low and filthy. "take my cock like a good little whore. you're going to cum for me, hm? gonna cum all over my cock?” his words send you hurtling over the edge, and you come with a scream, your walls clenching around his cock as you shudder and shake. chris follows soon after, spurting his hot cum deep inside you with a groan.

in the aftermath, you collapse against his chest, both of you panting and sweaty. chris's arms come around you, holding you close as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “fuuuckkk—“ he pants. "good girl," he murmurs, his voice soft and affectionate. "such a good girl for taking my cock so well." you preen under his praise, feeling warm and sated and loved. you know that you'll never get tired of this, and judging by the way he's already starting to harden inside you again, he feels the same way.

💌: i’m squirting to my own fic what the fuck! so soaked the pacific ocean is overflowing

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thatwildwolfwrites · 1 day ago

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My first time posting fanfic to tumblr...

shepard sleep paralysis (shakarian)

Garrus wakes up to a strange kind of silence: a silence that feels loud. The room is almost completely quiet, but the air feels filled with sound or with—

It's not what he can hear. It's what he can't. It's the absence of something, the silence where there should be noise.

Shepard is awake too. Eyes wide open, she's lying flat on her back with all her muscles tensed. And that's where the lack of sound comes from. Because she looks terrified. She looks like she wants to scream — like in her mind, she already is.

She's shivering — almost shaking — and her eyes desperately dart over the room.

"Shepard." Garrus doesn't know what to do. He sits up beside her. "I'm here," he says quickly. "I'm here, you're okay, I'm with you, I'm here."

He reaches out to move her hair off her sweat-covered forehead, but stops himself in time. He can't—

He's not going to touch her when she's like this. Oh, how he wants to. He so desperately wants to. He wants to move her hair off her face, wants to press his forehead to hers, wants to grasp her hand in both of his and press his mouth plates to her knuckles. He wants to show her the full extent of his support and his despair, but he can't. It would be so selfish to do that to her, to touch her body when she can't move it, when she can't speak or protest... After what she's been through? He can't do anything that would take her back there.

"Hey, Shepard, hey..." He clicks his mandibles when he sees the tears welling up in her eyes. Her throat moves and tightens as she tries to get words out despite her body's protests. The faded gurgled sound that leaves her makes him want to scream or cry. He does neither, because this isn't about him. It's about her, and she's going through something so terrible...

"I'm here," he whispers. "You're okay, this is going to be over in just a minute, you just need to... I'm here. I'm here for you." Garrus closes his eyes. He can't do anything. The woman he loves is struggling, is probably terrified, and he can't even touch her.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He leans over her, careful not to do anything to upset her. She follows him with her eyes, shining with despair and fear, as she continues to convulse and fight against her own body.

It's been so long since the last time this happened to her. He's had the time to learn how to approach this, after a terrifying lesson about human biology and how much their brains and bodies can sometimes be at odds, and he knows what this is now.

Doesn't make it any easier to deal with. Definitely doesn't make it easy to see her suffering, trapped inside her own head. An interspecies difference Garrus would never even have thought of.

When the sleep wears off, when her body wakes up to catch up with her mind, it's not a huge jolt or sudden move. She just takes a deep breath and holds it in, no doubt to calm her racing heart. He waits patiently until she finally looks up at him.

"Garrus," she manages to sob. Her arms are around him as soon as he moves towards her, and she holds him tight and close.

She's still shivering, but in an altogether different way. This feels... better. Natural. It's really Shepard he's holding in his arms now.

"Oh god, I was so scared," she whispers. "I was terrified, Garrus, I couldn't... I couldn't..." She shivers. "I couldn't even..."

"I know." He grasps on a bit tighter, digs his talons into her back a bit more. "I know."

"It was just... Project Lazarus." She looks up at him with her huge eyes, still glistening with the tears that filled them before, when she struggled to breathe and move. She looks so small and scared, not at all like the saviour of the galaxy who would take on a Reaper on foot and shout orders at generals hundreds of years her senior. That person is gone — all that's left is the deep, primal fear in her eyes. A fear and a yearning, a yearning for connection. For understanding.

And Garrus understands. He doesn't need her to explain it any further than those two words.

"I'm..." He has no idea what to say. Is there anything he could even say here? Whatever words of reassurance or comfort he gives her here will likely come off as disingenuous. The truth is, he's got absolutely nothing. Only clichés and platitudes. Nothing real, nothing from him. "I'm sorry. Do you want to... talk about it?"

Shepard is silent for a long time. Maybe she's battling herself on whether she will be able to share the painful memories with someone else. Maybe she's trying to put it into words. Maybe she's just reliving it now that it's been brought up. Garrus doesn't know, so he just watches her as she stares ahead.

When she finally does speak, her tone makes his blood run cold. None of that soft gentleness and apprehension he expected from touching on a deeply personal and traumatic subject. No, Shepard's cold and detached, her voice sharp like an icicle.

"I was... operated on for months. Do you know that I was conscious for parts of it?" She laughs sharply. It's one of the most painful sounds Garrus has ever heard. He had no idea laughter even could sound so cold and desperate. "I mean, they'd have you believe I was out of it, that I wasn't awake until I was awake, but I was fucking conscious. I would drift in and out of sleep through it. I don't know if it was two years or two months or just the last few days, but..." Shepard inhales sharply. "I would wake up every now and then. I was... lying on an operating table or... I don't know, an assembly bench? It wasn't a fucking bed, that's for sure. I wasn't even human to them, I was a project, and I... I was lying on that table, and I couldn't move my body, and..."

Garrus gently places a hand on her back when she starts sobbing again, head buried in her hands. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what his role is here. How is he supposed to help her through this?

"I mean, I..." Shepard sniffs. "I don't know, maybe I really did die. Maybe I was just really messed up. All I know is I spent so long on that stupid table, cut open like some kind of—" She shakes her head.

When Garrus slowly takes his hand away, she looks up right at him.

"Don't stop," she whispers. "Please."

He doesn't stop. He continues to gently stroke her back, not sure if that's what he's supposed to be doing but nonetheless determined to support her however he can.

"Most of the time, they noticed I was waking up. And Miranda would order to put me under again. But sometimes, I... Sometimes I woke up and I was so deeply tranquillised or... I don't know, I just... Sometimes I couldn't even open my eyes. I just had to... lie there. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream or say no..." Shepard rubs her forehead. "You know what it feels like when four people move your organs around in your chest cavity?"

Garrus freezes. His hand on her back feels so much heavier now, like he could destroy her with the tiniest touch.

"That's the thing about those anaesthetics. You don't feel pain, but you still... feel. You feel everything. It just doesn't hurt." Shepard swallows loudly. Garrus feels his throat getting dry too, just listening to her talk. He knew that it had been bad, but... Spirits, he had no idea how bad. Shepard has never talked about it before. "I would lie there for... minutes, maybe hours... However long it took until the drugs took me under again... And I could feel everything, but I couldn't move my body. I couldn't do anything. It was..." She smiles the saddest smile Garrus has ever seen on a human face. "Fuck, Garrus, it was hell."

"Shepard, I..." He feels like he should say something, but what can he possibly say to follow that? "I had no idea," he whispers.

"Yeah. Well, it was... It was over, wasn't it? It was supposed to be over. But now I wake up in my own fucking bed, with my husband next to me, and I should be fucking safe—" The tears come back now. They fill her eyes at record speed until she has to blink them away, and then they're flowing down her cheeks. "And I can't move. I can't even scream or..." She starts shaking again. "And it all comes back."

Garrus wants to cry for her. If he could, he would gladly do it, because as things are, his heart feels like it's being torn apart with every word that leaves her mouth.

"And it's that damn operation room again." She curls up her legs and quickly hugs them to her chest. "I'm back there. Just like that, I'm back there. I can't speak, I can't scream, I can't move, I can't do anything but just be—"

"I..." Garrus hesitates. He knows what he wants to say, but he has no idea if speaking any of those feelings out loud would be a good idea right now. Some part of him fears that if he gives those feelings voice, if he releases them here right in front of her, they might end up spreading to her too. And, damn it, she's going through enough of her own crap to add his own fears on top of that too. Eventually, after what feels like hours of deliberating, of going back and forth on it, he just settles on "I'm sorry."

Shepard looks up at him. Her eyes are glistening — not just with the light reflected in them, but now something else as well, something that comes from within her and isn't just a mirror of the world around them.

"Well, yeah." She laughs. She tries to laugh, at least — tries to appear above it like she always does, tries to still keep up the pretence of not being bothered by any of these things. The same mask that has kept her safe for all these years now cracks and almost breaks. Her voice is hoarse. So weak. She barely even gets the words out — it feels like she might break. Almost like, Garrus thinks, the tears she's refusing to shed are instead taking her voice away. Like this is the way her grief has chosen to manifest, because she's refused to let it out normally. "Yeah, fuck, I..." She runs a hand through her hair, a mirthless chuckle escaping her throat as she does. The sound comes out just as dry and hoarse as her words had before. "I mean... Fuck. Yeah, Garrus, I'm sorry too."

The silence that falls between them is anything but comfortable. It's tense, filled with anticipation for some sort of sudden move or attack, like the deep breath one would take before leaping off the edge of a cliff. How long they sit there, all tensed up and preparing for that inevitable strike to fall on them, Garrus isn't sure. All he knows is with each second that passes between them without a word being spoken, that tension only grows until he feels like whatever strike will end it will have to be something truly monumental.

It's not monumental.

It's small. Miniscule, really. Just a tiny little thing.

Shepard's nose twitches and her nostrils flare as she sniffs and cries. It's... nothing big or important, really, but for some reason it's that barely-movemeny that makes him break free of that moment of in-between existence, of that tension.

He hugs her.

you can also support me on kofi I guess. idk, if you've ever liked something I wrote or something idk

#mass effect fanfic #mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #shepard x garrus #my writings

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let-him-perish · 3 days ago

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my sprout design... he is so babygirl <3

my sprout hcs and more general yappery under the cut (long post) !!

my sprout headcanons:

he's transmasc and uses he/they pronouns peace and love

his striped scarf was a gift from sam !! he hates when people touch it or pull on it . it has a lot of sentimental value.

while he and cosmo are both good at cooking/baking, sprout prefers to cook while cosmo prefers to bake.

he blooms in late spring/early summer. his body blooms with flowers, and his leaves/hair/tail get longer and disheveled. he also tends to be a bit more drained as he's expending all his energy growing flowers n extra leaves (give that man a GOOD pruning)

he tends to value honesty and practicality over politeness and pleasantries, often leading to him seeming pushy at best and even unkind or overbearing at the worst, but he has good intentions and genuinely cares for the well-being of everyone around him

^^ he's weirdly intense about others taking proper care of themselves/being kind to themselves but doesn't come anywhere CLOSE to applying that same mentality to himself (he's exhausted and a bit high-strung from worrying about everyone constantly, and on runs he's often one minor inconvenience away from losing his shit)

he also has the most awful resting bitch face. always has to make an active attempt to look friendlier/more approachable, esp. when he worked with children.

honestly doesn't really care about what you think about him; talk shit about him all you want. but the second you make one remark of the sort about his friends, you're DEAD.

his passive also makes me think his senses are unusually good, so he holds particular distaste for anything overwhelming in terms of scent, taste, sound, etc. it's overstimulating.

he was an absolute menace to deal with as a child. he was bratty, rebellious, and not nearly as mature or put-together as he is now. props to sam for dealing with him

anyways 🙏 i'm pretty damn proud of this . it took me a bit but i've finally got my interpretation of him down and i think he looks very adorable... very babygirl very pookie . he's on track to be my first main if i can actually like. lock in long enough to focus on playing dw lolz

#i did sprout so dirty in the “can i see the mains in ur style” anon ask so i think i made up for that here lolz #pspsps moots/friends... if you wanna play dw with me #feel free to send an ask or dm for my userrr :3 #i promise i don’t bite #dandys world #dandy's world #dandys world sprout #dandy's world sprout #sprout dandys world #sprout dandy's world #dw sprout #sprout dw #sprout seedly #dandys world cosmo #cosmo dw #dw cosmo #<- honorary cosmo mention #perish art

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 2 days ago

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See, now I'm just picturing the mystery twins thinking of demonprince!stan as bowser jr., being surprised when he's cool/hates bill too, then getting a massive shock at both him and the dragon(???where did that come from? asks dipper that wasnt in the legends...Shush, its drama says mable and soos) turning into old men/30 year olds after demanding their age back. revealing the lost princess of mystery!(damn it, that's still a thing?!?Stan facepalms dramatically)

Lol this is absolutely it here.

Stan has a reputation in Fantasy world as a Demon Prince(ess depending on who's telling the story) who's just as wicked and terrible as his father, The Demon King. The demon king keeps his darling son/daughter at his castle, only because of how much devastation he'd do if set loose on the masses! Don't they know demons take centuries to grow up! The Prince is still a child, even after all these years and needs supervision to make sure he doesn't go on a murderous rampage!

Stan does make public appearances, only ever as a kid and with the firm instruction not to run off or something might happen to Stan's 'staff' (family), but he has free reign to bite Bill and everyone else. It's more for Bills amusement to see Stan snarl and snark at all the fancy human nobles while Bills playing medieval fantasy king, and he doesn't care about being seen as a 'family'. Stan already belongs to him as his not-really son and someone whos got Bills rune blessing, so it doesn't matter what all the other humans think of him.

Which leads to Stan absolutely being seen as a little demon prince, causing chaos and havoc whenever he's out and about (can't run or risk his brother and family, but he will let everyone know how unhappy he is with his life through crime)

So it's a big surprise when the other members learn the final members (Stan, Ford, and Fiddleford) are members of the Demons court. Go to stage a kidnapping when Bills off slaughtering, ready to drag the prince of evil and force him to hold their hand, only for Stan to be ready to go right now this instant. They bust in and Fords already drawing the symbols on the floor. If not everyone's there he is leading the charge out, he's sick of this castle and all the demons, he's ready to go back to some kind of normal life.

Which he still doesn't get, as apparently those princess rumors were still going around and everyone was convinced Bill kidnapped/killed him, and now they want him back on the throne to restore order post Bill. He's done! He's not a princess! Can't he just go back to a life of crime!

Too bad says everyone else, he's the only expert on sorcery and it's a little his fault Bill got out in the first place, he needs to fix up the countryside.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #princess stan #dragon ford #stan wants to get on a boat and fight seam monsters #too bad everyone else is making it his problem the country that didnt exist is in ruins

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deertaz · 11 hours ago

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TEASER FOR STRANGER THINGS 5 IS OUT NOW, SPOILERS!

I feel slightly conflicted about the teaser trailer. My Thoughts- As a Byler fan.

On the one hand:

But also...yeah:

If El and Mike are endgame (though this scene might not be romantic), I have no idea what they are going to do about Will being in love with Mike. I keep thinking to myself, hasn't our boy suffered enough?

Additionally, if the rumours ARE true from various leaks, and Will DOES have a love interest, who is not a new character (since no casting call has been made). Who the hell is that going to be? I'm honestly trying to make it compute.

So here are a few things I gathered from this scene, and here's how I'm going to make it work for Byler:

This scene has both characters in clothing we DO not see in any scenes we have seen before (correct me if I'm wrong.)

This scene seems calm, like there are no other characters around.

I am going to assume that the 'BIG MOMENTS', where people are fighting and Vecna is incoming, they are all either end of Part 1, Part 2 or Finale.

Therefore, it's pretty easy to assume that THIS SCENE is from Part One. Dare I say the first or second episode?

Maybe a scene where Eleven is trying to reach Vecna, or reach Max?

Also, not to be morbid, because Eleven is one of my favourite characters, but that basin and door behind her looks eerily similar to a coffin. Which would support the theory that El is not going to get through this season (but I really hope that's not the case).

I also thought it important to mention the space between them in that photo. Kind of distant?

Also, Mike looks kind of sad. Not awfully upset, just a little...yk?

Then he gives this sad little smile. Like a nonverbal sentence, something like 'it'll be okay'.

Which leads me to believe that either:

Eleven is putting herself in danger during this scene, and Mike is accepting that danger, with that sad little face.

Eleven is leaving with Hopper to go and do something SHE needs to do in order to get Vecna, and Mike is sad, but he KNOWS she has to go and do it.

Eleven and Mike are already broken up (don't think this is the break-up scene, honestly), and this is kind of a sad little goodbye, or a platonic moment between them. Deep talk?

Or a combination of the above.

Every single scene we have scene with Eleven and Mike have even been preteen passionate lovey dovey-ness, OR it has been arguing and miscommunication.

It is a little strange to see calm, tender scenes between the two. Where there is no arguing, and no big confession.

So I mean, either their relationship completely healed after that awful apology in S4 (which I mean, Eleven didn't even talk to Mike after that scene, and by the end, hadn't talked to him for two or three days.)

Or some sort of reconciliation has been made. Whether that be via a breakup, or a conversation leading to a better understanding of each other.

I'm honestly sensing that this is a post-breakup scene, at the end of Episode One, or some time during Episode Two. Where Eleven is leaving to go and do something dangerous, and this is their final proper talk with each other.

It's just...well, the dynamic here seems completely different in contrast to when they were in a relationship. Which means either both of them changed SO MUCH during the time-skip, or their relationship has changed because they are no longer romantically involved.

Very excited that Murray is back though. I was worried he wouldn't be in Season Five at all :)

EDIT: I also just clocked the fact that Eleven is wearing the exact same colours as we see Will wearing above, 'red, blue, yellow'. The difference being that the shades of Eleven's clothing contrast completely with Mike's outfit. They clash.

But in the top scene (with Will and Mike), their outfits match. Mike also has a yellow collar (cute). I mean damn, it's even the SAME SHADE of bright blue and muted yellow.

Eleven is wearing Will's clothes, the same colours as him, but it's not quite right, it's still not working (or didn't work out).

MORE NOTES:

They are sitting in an awkward position, a position which leaves space deliberately.

In the trailer, we get this one 'mileven' scene, even though WE know as fans of the show that Mike and Will spend most of season 5 TOGETHER. I find it strange how we don't get any Mike + Will solo scenes, since...well? We've seen a lot of them together in BTS content, and we've been told they are together for a massive chunk of the season.

I mean, does that mean the Duffers are purposefully holding out on Mike and Will scenes, because they don't want to spoil Byler? Because most of those moments together will be deeply set with some sort of implied yearning? Mayhap. Perchance.

I mean we get oodles of Jancy scenes. Very romantic and tender and sweet and obviously non-platonic. Even though it would add more discourse and tension to shippers if they didn't do that (free advertising really), and instead left room for Stancy speculation.

So why would they not do the same with Mileven, and show them having obviously romantic moments together? They don't seem to have a problem disproving other non-canon ships? So why wouldn't they disprove Byler?

Probably because Byler is endgame lol, and since they haven't even been explicitly shown to mutually pine for each other, it makes sense for the Duffers to keep it under wraps.

#byler #byler nation #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #byler canon #byler proof #byler is canon #byler stranger things #byler st5 #stranger things

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s-sh-ne · 23 hours ago

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there are worse games to play [6] - bucky barnes x f!reader (hunger games au)

He couldn’t even pinpoint the moment he’d fallen in love with her. Maybe it was the first night she’d ever offered dinner to him. Or the first time she brought him soap. Or maybe it was that dance, four days ago, when he’d heard her heartbeat thrum so loud. Whenever it was, it had happened suddenly yet had been building up since the moment she’d offered him a home. And now here he was, holding the woman who had suffered so much because of him. Loving her quietly yet so loudly it hurt sometimes.

warnings: MINORS DNI - cozy dystopia, fluff, steamy moments (not considered smut in my books but i thought i'd add a warning since it could have some very real sexual undertones lol <3), soft!bucky, the tiniest bit of romanogers again, possessive bucky, NON SEXUAL INTIMACY MY BELOVED (they get naked and it's explicit but it's non sexual) i tried my best to keep reader description to a minimum but explored a bit more with the naked scene

w/c: 6.5k (longest chapter to date and i'm so fucking happy with it)

a/n: and with this chapter, i'm concluding the series! i wanted to post the final chapter a month after releasing the first instalment but i got too excited and finished it in a day haha, the epilogue will be most likely out on july 17th (exactly one month :D) <3 thank you so so much for all the love i've received through this series, I've had some of my favorite writers on here read this/interact and its truly meant the world to me. I'm so grateful for the bucky girlies (genderneutral) who have been so kind and welcoming and i hope you enjoyed this ride as much as i did <3 can't wait to see all of you for the epilogue on thursday

..it may be july 16th as im posting this but its early enough that i'm considering it on schedule

-> main masterlist -> tawgtp masterlist

like real people do, hozier & nature

You hadn’t kissed him again ever since. Not that you hadn’t wanted to, or that he hadn’t either. But in the four days and five agonizing nights since you tasted his lips for the first time, it was like the universe was dedicated to never letting you have a moment alone.

The first day, you had kept your distance – not wanting to push. He’d done the same, just offering a wave and smile when you crossed paths. Alpine still ran back and forth between your houses, unaware of the warm tension between you two. The day after, when you’d planned on dropping by with a fresh batch of plum pie to talk (and most likely kiss him more), as the day stretched into late afternoon, you’d heard voices come up the hill, and your plan was swiftly cut short. Steve and Sam had come to spend the evening with Bucky.

The next day, Natasha had monopolized your time, and when Bucky had knocked on your door that night with a little carved cat that resembled Alpine too much for it to be a coincidence, you’d been too drunk to even realize you could’ve just kicked Natasha out with a look. You’d woken up in the early afternoon to a mug of one of your homemade hangover teas and the wooden cat sitting proudly next to it. You didn’t have to guess. Natasha was snoring on your brother’s bed, too far gone to have even thought of doing that for you.

And then there was last night. It was a fragile silence, no Natasha, no Steve. Just half your plum pie, two days too late, and your fingers wrapped around the small statuette. You’d affectionately called it Pine, and you’d spent the most part of the last 24 hours running your thumb over the rough cuts and small details, like the small tufts of fur on top of the ears – just like Alpine’s. It was a quiet night, both of you too afraid to break the silence with words that felt too heavy, with touches that felt world shattering. So you didn’t move. And neither did he. You just shared a slice of pie, and brushed your pinkies together more times than you’d meant to.

And when you went to sleep in your own bed? You could barely find rest. You kept tossing and turning, shrugging off the blankets when it got too hot, only to pull them back up minutes later. The breeze from the window you’d cracked open sometime after midnight was never right, always too cold or too warm. You’d tried everything – tea, warm goat milk, dried lavender flowers around your pillow – and yet, as the night stretched into dawn, you still laid wide awake, eyes fixed on the empty side of your bed like it had betrayed you. And in a way it did.

Tangled linen sheets, but an untouched pillow. Why did you have to sleep alone? Why hadn’t you dragged Bucky over or let him take you to his bed, crash his lips against yours and take everything you’d have given? You knew better than to think that way, you knew how much it mattered to him to be able to take his time, but your addled brain wouldn’t make sense of it. You fell asleep not long after sunrise with those thoughts circling your mind.

You were woken up not long later, by the gentle pawing of Alpine pressing her paws into your chest. You blinked your eyes open, the rays of the late morning sun painting your skin and her soft fur in soft golden tones. She’d sneaked in through the small crack of your open window, if you’d have to guess. It was calm, just your tired body ready to fall asleep once more with the small kitten settling down on your chest. Just her quiet purrs, and the soft chirping of morning birds lulling you into sleep once more.

That’s when the knocking began. And the yelling.

“Hey!” Natasha’s voice rang through the thin wooden walls, accompanied by the incessant banging of her fist against your door. “You were supposed to be down by Sarah’s like, two hours ago!” Alpine jumped out of her sleep, claws digging into your chest. After the fifth knock, she ran out of your room, pushing her tiny face through the space Bucky had cut for her in your door.

Natasha called your name once, twice, until you groaned and pushed the sheets off your body. Your nightgown was bunched around your waist, and you tugged it down, navigating your way through your cluttered kitchen with bleary eyes.

You pushed the door open and were met with an annoyed redhead wearing flowy pants and a top that left nothing to the imagination. You blinked once, taking in her attire, her pinned up hair and the linen towel hanging from her arm. And then you realized just what day it was.

“I take it you fully forgot we were going out to the lake today, huh?” She asked, a snarky smile tugging at her curved lips. She took in your wrinkled nightgown, your messy hair, and the large dark circles under your eyes.

Another tradition of yours, once every few weeks in summer you’d go down by the lake deep in the forest and spend the day there, enjoying the fresh water. It hadn’t happened in almost two months, since Bucky’s arrival and it had fully slipped your mind. Sarah had reminded you two nights ago, but you’d been so consumed with, well, Bucky, that you hadn’t even thought about it.

You groaned, running a hand down your face.

“Is everyone there already?” You asked, already moving to get changed. You usually left in the early morning, the hike up to the lake being over an hour.

“Yeah, Steve and them left early, Bucky and I stayed back for you.”

And that’s when you noticed the hulking figure behind her, averting his eyes from your bare legs. Maybe you’d been too tired to notice him, or maybe your mind decided to spare you the embarrassment, but still, he was standing there, wearing a loose shirt and a faint flush on his cheeks. His hair fell over his eyes, but you could see the pink tint grown up to the tip of his ears.

“Shit, jus’ give me a minute,” You shut the door before Natasha could complain and rushed through your drawers to find your damn swimwear. Compared to the fancy suits the capitol were able to produce and afford, you owned a cut off shirt and a pair of underwear, but it worked. You tugged on the fabric before frantically pulling out a dress you’d forgotten about. White fabric, embroidered with hundreds of wildflowers– a dress your brother had traded for some of your mother’s soap. It was plain white when you’d gotten it, but your mother spent countless hours embroidering each little flower by hand, inspired by her garden.

You paused for just a moment in front of your old mirror, and fixed your hair. Your eyes travelled down to your dress and a small smile tugged at your lips. You still felt guilty sometimes, especially when you thought so often of kissing the man who’s been your brother’s demise, but it got easier with each passing day. Especially when that man, a mass of muscles and an ex-conditioned killer, had blushed at the sight of you in a nightgown.

You packed a bag with a few pieces of dried meat and some waterskins, and tugged your boots on. Pine, the wooden cat sat proudly on the windowsill, protecting the household while you were gone. You swiped your little knife, nestling it between the meat and your linen towel. You usually came back from these escapades after sunset, and you could never be too careful in those woods.

By the time you were out the door, Bucky and Natasha were chatting by the gate. The sun was already high in the sky, and it was unbearably hot. Natasha’s fair skin was already red around her shoulders and Bucky’s hair was slightly damp on the ends from sweat. The cool lake water would be welcoming, even if you only arrived in the early afternoon.

“Good to go?” Natasha drawled, and you nodded, averting your gaze to look at Bucky. His lips were slightly parted, mouth agape, like he often did when he saw you. His eyes trailed down your body, looking the dress over with careful eyes. You tried not to hold your breath as he looked, time suddenly stopping. When those blue eyes met yours again, something in your chest shifted, the fault that had started as a narrow rift breaking open into a trench.

“Are you two finished? God, it’s like you can’t go 12 hours without devouring each other with your eyes."

You looked away quickly, a warmth that had nothing to do with the unrelenting sun spreading across your face. Bucky huffed a laugh, a small nervous breath. Natasha rolled her eyes and just tugged on your arm.

The walk to the forest was exhausting, the lack of sleep paired with the constant beat of the sun on your body making your steps falter every so often. Alpine had joined you, but quickly found shelter in your bag, undoubtedly chewing on the jerky you’d packed. You only heard small mewls from her, and constant purring. Natasha strode ahead, huffing when you slowed in faux-annoyance. If she complained, you’d be more than content to remind her she was the one who’d waited for you.

Bucky walked alongside you, matching your rhythm. You didn’t talk much, just a few words here and there.

How did you sleep?

Eh, could’ve been better.That pie was amazing, by the way.

Was my ma’s recipe, she’d be happy you liked it.

Can’t wait to get in the water, it’s so damn hot.

Right?

It was easier once you got into the forest. The rustling branches full of leaves offered a welcome respite from the sun, and Alpine hopped down from your bag. She ran ahead, sneezing every so often when a bug landed on her nose or when she smelled a new flower. Natasha was only a silhouette with bright red hair in the distance but Bucky kept pace with you. You were grateful. You knew he could walk ahead, probably faster than Natasha but still he chose to walk next to you.

When the trees started to part to make way for the taller grass surrounding the lake, your pace quickened, Alpine already bounding ahead. The sun’s rays were still as heavy when you emerged from the brush but the promise of cool water kept you going as the lake came into view. It was beautiful, shades of greens and blues rippling in the golden sun. The rays reflected off the water and the surrounding forest was mirrored, like the lake reflecting the forest's beauty back to it. The others were already in the water, Natasha stepping out of her pants to join them.

Bucky’s hand brushed yours and you looked up at him. He was looking ahead with an unreadable expression, maybe apprehension or fear. You interlaced your fingers and squeezed just a bit, drawing his attention to you.

“You okay?” You asked, slowing your pace just a bit as you passed the long abandoned cabin by the lake. He sighed, raking a hand through his long hair.

“Yeah, just always feel weird when everyone’s there, old habits I guess.”

“Well if you ever need to get away, just, squeeze my hand twice underwater or sumthin’, I’ll find us a quiet spot.” You said, before realizing what you’d implied. “Unless you’d rather be alone,” you backtracked, feeling a blush climb up your cheeks. “I didn’t mean, like, you need to be around me or-”

“Doll, breathe,” He chuckled, the nervousness on his face mellowing out into amusement. “If I need to get away, I’ll let ya know, and you take me somewhere. I’d rather be alone with you than alone by myself.”

His words sunk deep into your belly with a warmth that outmatched the sun. You tried not to flush, though your already pink cheeks felt warmer too. Alpine settled under a tree, closing her eyes for a nap.

He’d let go of your hand somewhere between the cabin and the docks, while you tugged your dress over your head, revealing your makeshift swimsuit. You felt his eyes on your back and you knew he was watching you undress. Even with Sam, Steve, and all the others mere feet away in the water, it felt intimate, like he was seeing a whole new part of you. A part neither of you had seen from each other. You felt a tug in your core and a shiver run down your spine as you bent over to unlace your boots.

He didn’t move from the dock, still fully clothed, even as you jumped in the water, the cool currents immediately soothing your tired muscles. When you resurfaced, Bucky was slowly kicking off his shoes as Steve hoisted himself out of the water. Bucky had the same reluctant expression he’d had minutes ago and the other man placed a hand on his shoulder, like an encouragement. You didn't want to eavesdrop, but you swam just a bit closer as Sarah caught up with you, seemingly just as curious.

They exchanged a few low words, nothing you were able to catch but when Steve patted him on the back and slid back into the water, Bucky seemed more at ease. You smiled at him and almost looked away, but then his hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, sliding it up his body. Your smile slipped off your face and your heart almost froze as a large expanse of scarred skin and muscle came into view.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t known just how strong he was. But he’d never been shirtless around you. Or anyone, for that matter. Even on the hottest days when he was chopping wood, he’d kept his shirt on. You’d even seen him with a sweat-drenched shirt, seen slivers of his stomach when he wiped his forehead with the fabric, but never his whole torso.

His hand shook slightly as he set down the piece of fabric on the dock, everyone else talking and swimming around you.

And then you saw it.

The mangled skin by his left shoulder. The twisted sinewed tissue tethered to the metal arm. Red angry scars that seemed healed over but looked beyond painful to bear. It was a mess of skin and metal melding together, evidence of the capitol’s torture, and Bucky was embarassed of it. You saw it in his tense shoulders, in his averted eyes, and in the way his body shifted slightly to the right, unconsciously attempting to hide his scar.

Something in your chest sank, joining the same part that had broken off when your brother died. He’d told you about the things the Capitol had done to him, but there was always a part of him that brushed it off, made it seem less horrible than it had been.

But now that he had nothing hiding the truth, nothing hiding the inhumane way they’d stuck a metal arm on an open wound, your stomach twisted in nausea. You pushed yourself closer as he lowered himself in the water, his strong arms flexing.

He still wouldn’t look at you so you grabbed his hand and squeezed twice.

‘Come with me,’ you were telling him. Maybe he didn’t need you, but you wanted to soothe him. Needing to be his balm in a world that had done nothing but fail him. So you tugged again, and he looked up, nodding his head just slightly.

The others had swam out further so you led him to a spot you knew too well. A weeping willow by the water, its leaves and branches creating a small haven of peace. You and Natasha would sneak under here sometimes when you needed a moment of quiet, sitting on the sliver of land the cover offered. Or sometimes just you, wading through the water, looking up at the tree. It was a little pocket of magic, the sun reflecting through the branches shining on the water.

Bucky followed you through the leaves, water dripping from the ends of his hair. You still held his hand underwater, and he settled against a rock, closer to the shore while you treaded water to face him. It was quiet for a moment, the soft rustling of the tree and the gentle lapping of the water the only sounds around you.

“I still uh, struggle with showin’ it.” He said, voice a bit rough. He tried looking in your eyes but quickly averted his gaze when you brushed a hand against his bare shoulder. “I know it’s a mess,” he added, quietly. Your eyebrows knit together, your thumb brushing the nastiest looking scars. You other hand rose to stroke his cheek lightly, coaxing him to look at you. His eyes rose, and you looked at him with all the unsaid feelings buried in your heart.

“I never expected you to be perfect,” you breathed, pushing yourself closer to him. Both your hands rested against his chest now and you lowered your lips to his left shoulder. His breath caught as you pressed a featherlight kiss to the scar you’d been stroking a second ago. Your eyes flickered to meet his, a silent question. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and his hands came to rest on your waist.

“Bucky, with the past we’ve both had, I never wanted you to be more than what you are.” You whispered against his skin, pressing another kiss, just higher.

And then another, where skin met metal. His grip tightened, and you felt his breath against your neck, hitching every time you touched him. As you kept pressing kiss after kiss against the mangled skin, you felt his body trembling under your touch, his chest rising and falling in an erratic rhythm. And you felt the tears hit your shoulders next, so you tightened your arms around him, snaking them around his neck. It was salvation for him, a final moment of accepting that he was more than what he’d been made to be. And it came in the form of a few presses of your lips against his most vulnerable part.

You pressed a final kiss to his collarbone as he cried silently against you. You buried your nose in his neck, holding him tight against you in the water, your bare legs tangling with his. You breathed in his scent, cedar, smoke, and something so uniquely him you felt tears well in your eyes too.

You’d thought about it since your first kiss, but this moment? Tangled with him under the willow tree, breaths synching? That’s when you knew that you’d fallen in love with him. That there was no other ending for you, only his eyes, his arms, his breath, his soul. You held him even tighter, one of your hands coming to rest in his hair

He held you with the same trembling fingers, a hand splaying across your back almost protectively. The water sloshed around you, the tree rustled, and a bird chirped overhead. It was peaceful, only your bodies against each other, your heartbeats slowing with each passing moment.

Then he whispered your name against your shoulder, breaking from you just enough so you could face each other. His hand slid up your bare sides, cupping one side of your face with gentle fingers, thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You are everything,” He breathed, eyes so full of devotion it almost hurt. His words spread through your entire body, settling deep in your bones. You couldn’t speak, how could you after that? So you didn’t say anything, only crashed your lips to his with all the passion in your body.

He responded immediately, his metal hand gripping your waist tightly. The flesh thumb kept stroking circles on your cheek as he kissed you with a fervor you tried to match. It wasn’t the careful dance you’d both silently agreed to keep up anymore. It was love, lust, grief, pain, everything you’d lived through and everything your future held, all in an all-consuming kiss.

He groaned softly against your lips as you opened them, his tongue meeting yours almost reverently. It was as electrifying – no more – than your first kiss. His lips moved perfectly against yours with no restraint, his body pressing itself closer to yours. Both your heartbeats were rapid, increasing with each swipe of his tongue against yours.

When was the last time you’d been kissed like this? When was his last time?

None of it mattered, not when your thighs slotted too perfectly around his hips, not when his hands gripped you so tightly you’d have bruises tomorrow. His flesh hand slipped from your cheek to grab the back of your neck, pressing you even closer. A whine escaped you and he let out a low growl, an almost animalistic sound as the kiss grew hungrier. Your hands became bolder, slipping from his hair to touch all of his chest. Your fingers trailed along his abs, never going lower but God, did you want to. Your hands slid up his bare chest, feeling the ridges and scars, as well as the goosebumps you left in your path. He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth slightly and you moaned, breathless.

You broke apart only for air, breathing heavily, eyes locked. But when his arms brought you even closer, your lips met again with the same passion. He licked your bottom lip hungrily, and you’d thanked yourself for waiting. For giving him a chance, for falling in love with him. This was your peace. Not a house alone, not your little flowers, or soaps. But him.

And then the kiss slowed down. Your lips still moved against each other but there were less teeth, less tongues clashing. His lips trailed from yours to pepper soft kisses to your face and down your neck. You felt pleasure shoot down your spine as he found a spot underneath your ear that made you squirm. He didn’t try to initiate anything more, just kept pressing featherlight kisses to the spot, just like you’d done to his shoulder.

When you finally broke apart, lips kiss-swollen and eyes bright, you laughed. A small quiet chuckle, but a laugh nonetheless. And he did the same, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You make me feel so damn alive, sweetheart,” He whispered, his thumbs drawing circles on your hips. You felt so in love you could’ve died in his arms and you’d have thanked every force in the world for even having the chance of loving him.

“You don’t know just how much I l- care,” You said under your breath, the words still lodging in your throat. You felt him smile as he pressed his lips against yours again.

“I’m starting to learn,”

You stayed like that, floating under the tree, limbs tangled, for the better part of the afternoon. You laughed when he tried pulling you under only to result in him being submerged and your hair staying dry. It was his turn to chuckle when you tried the same and ended up being thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You swam around each other, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

And when your eyes started to grow heavy and the afternoon sun shone lower than it had all day, he hoisted you up on his back and swam back to where everyone had gathered around the docks. Sarah and Sam were passing a bottle around on the docks while Steve and Natasha talked, still swimming in the water.

“Well there they are!” Sam called out, a snarky smirk on his face while one of his hands covered his forehead to block the sun. “Our two favorite lovebirds finally made it out of the friendship?”

You lifted a tired middle finger and Bucky rumbled a laugh. Natasha winked at you, and turned back to Steve, brushing a wet blonde strand out of his eyes. A smile tugged at your lips. Maybe one day, they’d stop circling each other and meet in the middle. You rested your head against Bucky’s warm back, the sun shining down on your shoulders.

He set you down on the warm planks of the dock, nestling himself between your thighs and kissing you, hands on your thighs. He didn’t seem to care Sarah and Sam were mere inches from you, just kissed you right on your mouth like he was finally letting himself have this.

You heard a low whistle – no doubt Sam – when you returned the kiss lazily, tired from the little sleep you’d had and the exertion from the day. He reluctantly pulled away from you, hauling himself on the dock next to you and whispered in your ear when you yawned.

“Go take a nap with Alp,” You nodded and made your way to the tree where Alpine was still curled, laying down your linen towel and stretching out your aching limbs. Bucky stayed back on the docks, talking to Sam. Your eyes drooped, and you eventually fell asleep with the cat settling against your damp chest, the sun shining down on the both of you.

Bucky tried not to disturb her as he joined her under the tree. The sun was dipping down the horizon and he’d spent the better part of the last hour chatting with Sam about everything. Steve had joined them eventually, a protective hand on Natasha’s waist and that was when he’d decided to find her again. She was out like a light, snoring lightly on her linen towel. Alpine opened a single eye when he sat next to them, purring when he stroked her small head.

He looked down at the woman, still only wearing her underwear and small top, and a wave of emotions rose throughout his body. She was so beautiful when she was at peace, and fuck did her attire make it hard not to have taken her right under that tree. He wrapped an arm around her sleeping frame, nudging his arm under her head, careful not to wake her up. She only shifted slightly, nestling herself deeper against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, burying his nose in her soft hair, tightening his grip around her bare waist. He never wanted to let her go, never wanted anything impure other than him to touch her again, even if every minute with her made him more and more human.

She stirred awake as the others started to pack up, shifting in his arms as he still watched her. When she turned to face him and smiled, his heart cracked open and he couldn’t resist kissing her again. When she turned to face him and smiled, his heart cracked open and he couldn’t resist kissing her again. He felt her laugh against his lips and she broke away, sitting up. Alpine meowed indignantly when she was so rudely disturbed.

He stood up, groaning as his back complained and held out a hand for her to grab. With renewed energy from her power nap, she got up, not bothering to shrug her dress back on. She only tugged on her boots and Bucky had to cough to cover the very real groan he had at her bending down to tie her laces.

The walk back to the settlement was quiet, only the soft sound of her humming and the low voices of Steve and Natasha behind them. The sun was still up, though low enough that his hand rested on the knife strapped to his thigh. Alpine was back in her bag, popping her head out once in a while to lick at her fingers. She giggled every time Alpine did it, the sound burying itself in Bucky’s bones.

Her hand eventually found his as they emerged from the forest, the sun now fully set. There was only the soft crunching of their footsteps and the echoes of crickets as the rest of the group eventually parted from them towards Victor’s Village, while the two of them walked up the hill to their two houses. His arm eventually found itself slung around her shoulders when she shivered at the cooler night air hitting her bare skin. Alpine let out a small yelp when the bag found itself moved out of the way, but quickly jumped out before running the rest of the hill.

“This is becomin’ a routine,” She mused, nestling herself closer to him.

“Hm?”

“Me ‘n you walkin’ home, and the little menace waitin’ for us on top of the hill.” Like on cue, Alpine sat herself in the middle of the road between their two houses, as if she was deciding who to stay with tonight.

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and thought that if this was to be his routine for the rest of his life, he could live with that. He’d once thought he’d find peace at the bottom of his apartment building, or in an empty gun barrel, but today? Spending a day in a lake so far away from everything that when his past came creeping back, all it took was a few kisses from her to make everything right again, was his definition of peace.

When they’d finally made it up the hill and he followed her to her doorstep, she turned again, like she’d done the first night she’d kissed him. But this time, looking up at him with bright eyes, her hands tangled in his, she didn’t kiss him.

“Stay tonight?” She whispered, eyes so full of care and something he hoped was love. His heart must've missed a couple of beats because when he finally registered what she had said, he felt breathless. His stomach was warm, fluttering with hundreds of butterflies and instead of answering her, he dipped his head down and kissed her so strongly she staggered back against the door.

“Yeah,” He finally mumbled against her lips, his hand reaching behind her to find the knob of the door. They stumbled in, lips still attached, Alpine on their heels. He shut the door behind them. She laughed when he tripped over that damn stool, and tugged him by his shirt to her small bedroom. She broke away from him when he moaned against her lips.

“I don’t wanna do anythin’ tonight,” She said, wrapping an arm around her naked midsection. She looked shy all of a sudden, a flush creeping up her neck. “M’exhausted n’ I don’t wanna rush it,”

His lips parted slightly as he watched her slouch slightly, averting her eyes away from him for simply asking for more time, something she had given to him countless times. After the initial wave of stupor washed over him, he huffed a chuckle, gently cupping her face between his calloused hands.

“Doll I don’t care if you aren’t ready tomorrow, next week, or next year.” He said, voice so fond she might’ve melted on the spot. “I don’t need that to love you. I just… want to hold you tonight.”

Bucky didn’t realize what he’d said until her face snapped up. Her eyes were wide with surprise, mouth falling open. His amused expression dropped, the weight of his words sinking into him.

“I- I didn’t mean t-” He started, but then really took a look at her. To her eyes, the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. To her hands, that’d soothed him more than he could express. To her hair, that twirled around her like an extension of her soul. And he let out a deep exhale and looked back into her eyes. He said her name like a prayer, hands still on her cheeks. “Fuck, I can’t even lie.” He whispered, stepping closer to her. “I love you sweetheart. More than I can put into words.”

It was quiet for a moment, just the soft huff of their breaths mingling as she smiled wider than he’d ever seen before. It was brighter than the sun, brighter than the moonlight pouring from her open window. It was salvation and destruction all at once, healing his heart while cracking it open. And she crashed her lips against his for what felt like the first time and the thousandth time all at once.

“I love you too Bucky Barnes,” She whispered back against his lips and whatever small doubts still lived in his heart about what he deserved vanished in six words. When the kiss ended, he stayed there, holding her face. They were forehead to forehead, their eyes closed, like they were both trying to conserve this moment forever.

The moment was broken when she yawned, and he laughed, kissing her shoulder softly.

“Let’s get you to bed,” He said, slipping his hands under the strap of her swimsuit top, caressing the skin there like a silent ask. She nodded and tugged on the hem of her top, lifting it over her head, Bucky’s hands helping in tugging it past her hair. He let his eyes fall on her bare chest and while his body responded in ways she’d made clear she didn’t want tonight, his heart felt so full. She was allowing him to see this, to see her at her most vulnerable, and he fell in love all over again.

She smirked at the tent growing in his pants, shoving his shoulder playfully and stepped out of her underwear. He tried to laugh with her but couldn’t stop taking in the shape of her nude body – the way her breasts sat on her chest, the way her hips slightly dipped, the way her spine curved when she turned around to grab a shirt hanging from a hook on the wall. His eyes travelled lower and his lips parted slightly at the strength of her legs.

“You gonna stop starin’ and get to bed or do I have to cover my ankles too?” She joked as the shirt fell over her frame. Bucky closed his mouth, his throat suddenly dry and he blinked a few times. “Haven’t seen a naked woman in a-” She tried to joke again, but was cut off mid sentence by a yawn that snapped him out of his trance.

“Not one I’m deeply in love with,” he grumbled, tugging off his own shirt and sitting on her bed. She smiled at his words, and pushed him slightly so he laid down. She nestled herself against his bare chest, her fingers tracing circles on his abs. Alpine eventually jumped on the bed, scaring the life out of him for a second before she laughed and brought his hand to her heart to calm him down. The kitten settled right on top of his chest, purring like the engine of his motorcycle.

He closed his eyes only when he was sure his two girls were asleep, one white ball of fur and the most kind beautiful woman he’d ever had the chance to fall in love with.

As his body drifted into sleep, he didn’t even realize that his now most treasured moment of peace was falling asleep directly across from the empty bed of the boy he’d killed, holding his sister like it might fix the past. And in some way it had. In some way, they’d found that salvation, that peace, in simply holding each other.

It was early morning when you woke up. The soft morning light poured into your room like honey, the quiet chirping of morning birds echoing from outside. You stirred slightly, face still pressed against… something hard?

It all came rushing back to you, the lake, the kisses, the confessions, and you felt yourself smile against Bucky’s chest. You’d fallen asleep to the fantasy of being in the same bed as him so many times and woken up alone but for once you weren’t. He was right there.

His breath was still slower, his eyes still shut but he was here. Against you, his warm body pressing against yours perfectly. Alpine was still deep in her slumber on his chest, not having moved an inch since she’d drifted off.

You heart felt at ease, and as you glanced over to your brother’s bed, you whispered a silent apology to his soul, not for Bucky, but for bringing in a boy without asking him first. But you were sure, wherever he was, he was happy for you. Maybe a bit annoyed, but still so damn happy you’d finally found your peace.

And you thought about your ma and your daddy too. How they would’ve been so thrilled to have Bucky in the family. Your mother would’ve made him tons of soap, given him too many flowers for the three vases Olivia had left behind, and your father would’ve clapped him on the back like he so often did to your brother. And your brother… he would’ve loved Bucky if nothing had happened. But you’d never gotten to meet Bucky if your brother was still alive.

You swallowed the lump growing in your throat at all the thoughts and paradoxes filling your head as Bucky made a sound in his sleep, stirring softly. You turned your eyes back to him, meeting his ocean blue ones, still heavy with sleep.

“Hey, “ you whispered, like if you spoke too loud it would break the careful spell. His lips tugged into a small smile and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Hey,” he breathed, his hand still resting on your hip. It felt like so long ago you’d held him at gunpoint, and now he was in your bed, smiling up at you like you were the sun. “I love you,” he said, his thumb brushing against your bare skin.

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips instead of replying, and pulled away, taking in his features. His stubble that was starting to grow back in, his lips, his strong jaw, the curve of his nose. His eyes, the ones that went from guarded to portraying every emotion under the sun. Fuck you loved him more than anything.

More than the flowers in your garden loved rainfall.

More than your fire loved the logs he’d chopped.

More than the willow in his garden loved the creek running behind your houses.

More than you’d loved before.

He was your salvation, your peace, everything you’d ever needed. And there was only one truth that could fall from your lips now.

“I love you too,”

- here is the place where I love you

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #there are worse games to play #s-sh-ne #ITS THE END (technically)#one more to go :((

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