#and force him into healthy habits

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[tranz-regent]

??? DID YOU WATCH THE FUCKING ZERIEZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVBIT BUT PROZHIPPERZ DNI???

[kitkat13001]

thinkin’ bout katsuki bakugou with an s/o who’s a picky eater 😳

it drives him crazy at first to see you pick certain vegetables out of your food, or wrinkle your nose at dishes you weren’t particularly fond of.

in the beginning, he actually tries to beat it out of you, forcing you to clear your plate with an irritated bark every time he saw you pick at your food or scoot your plate away.

it’s not until he sees you gag at the texture of a particular food, at the way your appetite completely vanishes and your eyes gloss over with the hint of tears, that he feels some semblance of commiseration for you.

that spark of sympathy ignites into a protective rage when someone makes an off-handed (but ignorant) comment about how “childish” your eating habits are. your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you had tried to laugh it off, but he knew better. he had wanted to blow their face off, but he knew it’d only serve to embarrass you more.

he’s always cooked for you, but from then on he makes a point of memorizing your favorite dishes to perfection. he studies the way you eat, analyzing your reactions for what you enjoy and what you don’t seem to care for.

he’s not going to give you a reason to be ‘picky,’ refusing to provide people with a motive to make fun of you for ‘babyish’ behavior. you can’t be picky if he’s only feeding you good, healthy, and delicious food.

he’s subtle when he slides new dishes in front of you, calming your questioning expression when he scoffs and tells you to try it, you’ll like it.

and you always do.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[dmitriene]

Bear price part 3 with how he acts with his pregnant wife and then later the cubs? Please 🙏 I actually love your stufff so much 🦅

cw: hybrids, pregnancy, motherhood, giving birth, nothing here is really accurate.

despite the fact that there is no greater joy for john price than knowing that you are pregnant with his cubs, he knows very little about what it is like to carry a child, and even more so he does not know much about the process of childbirth, all his actions are only instinctive, driven by the churning pull of a gnawing need to protect you and make your every will come out real, should you ask for anything at all.

a devoted mate, he is always concerned about your comfort, especially now, knowing how sensitive and vulnerable you are during this period, when all your energy is spent on growing the one who is in your belly, making the child healthy, stronger, so you have to rest more often, take care of your well being and eat as much as possible, which john takes upon himself, walking restlessly around the house every day, from dawn to dusk, assisting you at any given moment.

the bear inside of him, innate, animalistic habit, teases his senses with a growl of a need to keep you hidden, tangled in his arms for till the birthing comes, trapped, having to go through your pregnancy in this same cabin you live in together, in this same furs you sleep beneath every night, in john's pawing, possessive hold, but the nature can be unforgiving, the pregnancy a process he has no say in, and he won't risk your health, no matter how hard the animal in him claws.

john makes sure to find you a gynecologist, the one that would visit you, without needing for you to step outside, let other predators sniff out a pretty thing with her baby bump for anyone to try and court, even though you're long mated, thus, he makes sure that the person that steps through the doorway of your house is a woman, and one that not even close to being a hybrid, to make sure that your pregnancy proceeds smoothly and without possible health problems, once every few weeks.

what bothers you both, is that your baby bump is really, really huge and heavy, you sway around the cabin with breathy grunts and little steps, in which, john has to assist you later, large, calloused warm palms cupping underneath your tummy and lifting, thumbs stroking over the stretched skin and dark line that runs through and down your belly button, easing the tension and the strain you feel all over your body, slumping back against the full, brawny expanse of his chest, sighing in immediate relief, while your husband wonders just how many there are.

the other issue, is how horny you are, and john as well, but your tummy ain't giving much choices on how to treat this problem, so while he can pleasure you, his jaw open wide to drink the slick from between your quivering, parted thighs, suffocatingly plush around his head as you squeeze, too sensitive to the sensation of his curling, thrusting tongue and rasping beard, hiccuping and moaning each time his swollen, glistening lips close around your twitching clit, all while he's bought to hump his hips into the air.

the birth day comes with your hand clawing at john's with a force that leaves bleeding scratches at his hair dappled skin, and yet, he stays close, holds your curling fingers in his own, kissing over your sharp knuckles, whispering sweet, soothing reassurances while you gasp and push to get command of doctor's voice, sobbing in pain and exhaustion, skin all clammy with sweat, and even the loose nightie you wear feels too much on your overstimulated, itching body, but you make your best to keep pushing, legs feeling numb.

when the fog of pain clears, there's a light weight at either side of your armpits, cradled by the intuitive curl of your arms, two babies, a sweet girl and a boy, looking so similar, bodies swaddled and tiny as they sleep against you, john is here, talking with the doctor, glancing over when you manage some quiet, weak murmur, and he reaches out to smooth over your disheveled, damp hair, leaning down with a lingering kiss against your still warm forehead, before whispering at you to sleep, tone low and rumbling, your eyelids growing heavy, knowing that he has everything under control.

your body does needs time to recover, and so, john fusses over you, making sure you sleep and eat enough, feed babies from time to time and hold them close when you feel rested enough, all the rest is on his shoulders, to watch over your little boy and girl, make sure there's no any issues, he rocks them in his massive hands and hums some silly, old melody he knows, baby blues watching how they babble up at him and twist their little fingers in the hairs on his chest or beard.

talking with them while he goes around the house on chores, making sure they play with some sensory toys, and not only his round, beary ears and furred features, john takes on all the responsibilities of raising children until your body is recovered enough, and when you finally join him, parenting swallows the two of you into a flurry of endless worries, practically missing the moment of growth of your adorable cubs, already walking around the house with tapping feet's and shrieking giggles, running from their dad's catching hands as you watch them wide grinning from the couch.

john learns quick how being a dad feels and what requires, and he's never been happier, every early morning starting with your supple body tucked against his side, and your babies peeking politely through the door before rushing in and jumping on the bed to greet you in another day with too much enthusiasm, as he ushers them to go and brush their teeth, stealing a moment to feel you a little bit more, squeeze greedily at your curves and peck your pouty lips, before he'd need to raise up and cook a big breakfast.

and if he get's too pussy drunk in recent months, it's not because of how much he missed feeling the pulsing tightness of your gummy cunt around his engorged, dripping cock, but because he's forever grateful for the gift you gave him in the face of your precious babies, and the primal need to be surrounded by more of them, if he's succeeded to be a father, then he can build a big, big family as well, and you can't object, not with the way your hips roll to meet the rutting of his girth, not with john's enraptured gaze on you, so more it is, then.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[wholemeallbread]

⟢ CUTTTING FRUIT FOR YOU !

what bllk boys do when you ask them to cut/peel fruit.

⟢ including ... isagi yoichi, barou shoei, reo mikage, itoshi rin

⟢ notes ... fluff, mentions of knives, mentions of food, picky-ish reader (barou)

ISAGI YOICHI

makes it his life mission to make sure he does it as perfectly as he can.

he takes three minutes to cut his first slice. then, he spends decades trying to eyeball around the same size, and it ends up being so off.

overthinks it so much. he'll be cutting an apple into slices, and one of them comes out as a square. why? he thought you'd rather have bite sized pieces, and this one was "too big".

you can tell he's beating himself up in his head about it because he can't even look you in the eyes when he serves it to you.

please reassure him cutting fruits is not that serious </3

BAROU SHOEI

you don't have to ask, he's forcing you to eat them.

at least once a day he scolds you about your poor eating habits. you want something sweet? well, he'll give you something sweet. fruit.

if you're particularly reluctant, he'll cut things up in the most extravagant ways possible. even just one grape is too pretty to eat because how did he even make it rose shaped with such a massive knife?

he gives up.

when he serves you fruit, the slices are perfect. no blemishes, no odd cuts, all even sizes, picture perfect. you don't even need to inspect each slice because they're just that perfect.

REO MIKAGE

is already cutting fruit for you before you even ask.

it's almost instinct whenever the two of you end up having a conversation in the kitchen. he doesn't stop talking, just preparing a bowl of mixed fruits with all of your favourites at the same time. he's probably got his house stocked up with everything that you like.

if he knows you're eyeing a piece of fruit because you can't wait, he doesn't hesitate to hold up a chunk that he just cut, feeding it to you.

if you don't want it, he'll make you take it anyway. not only is it healthy and refreshing, but also hydrating; you need to eat some.

ITOSHI RIN

always gives you a funny look when you ask.

like he'll do it, but why him?

is suspiciously good at peeling oranges. he could be ripping the thing apart and it'll come out smooth with no piths sticking to it. that's true skill.

if he really wanted to, he could squeeze one with his bare hands and make juice. (copied from sae) he did it once in summer because you were dying for some "nice, fresh orange juice", and your eyes were basically begging him to do the thing.

honestly he'd rather just give you a bowl of small berries and grapes instead of going through the process of cutting fruit.

[loveafterlife]

i think satan and asmo are the worst about staring, personally,

like asmo's staring is partially force of habit, (charming, etc.), and partially just affection. he loves you and by extension loves looking at you! you're beautiful, don't you know??

satan's staring is always intense and is a healthy mix of affection and intrigue i think. i don't imagine he's had as much interaction with humans in the long term as everyone else, plus he cares a lot about you in particular, so of course you're going to be fascinating to him.

it should be noted though, he can dish it out no problem, but he gets flustered rlly quickly if you do the same.

it feels more casual imo, but honorable mention to lucifer for staring in "secret", though i don't imagine he'd care when he gets caught. it's definitely affection, but ultimately he stares for himself, and ofc you should be flattered if you catch the avatar of pride paying so much attention to you. 😪

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Vergil, and Dante react to his gn s/o who always makes it a habit to tell him that they love him whenever they can like when they wake up, before going to sleep, before they leave, and when they return please?

Dante

heaven is real and it goes by your name.

he loves nothing more then coming home to you waiting for him, holding his face in your hands as you tell him you were happy he was home safe, how you love him, as all he could do was hold you tight and praying that you don't slip from his grip.

never let him wake up from this beautiful reality he mamanged to fall deep into, this beautiful reality that you had made beautiful by just a few simple acts.

dante reciprocates you 'i love you's' with his own eagerly, treating each and every 'i love you' that escapes your lips as though it were made of pure gold, like he would never hear it again, and how does he reciprocate them exactly? by kissing your lips in thanks.

you say 'i love you' in the morning, head rested on his chest, looking gorgeous in your early morning mess, voice barely above a whisper? Dante is quick to peck your lips repeatedly as you laugh at how silly and loveable he was being, yet it was one of the many things that left you warm ans smiling for the entirety of the week.

you say 'i love you' to him before he leaves for a mission, confident in his abilities and know for certain he was coming home to you, holding his calloused hand between your own, showing him that while you believed in him and his unique abilties after so long.

you still had your worries as his lover, his other half, his soulmate that only showed him how deep your love went for him, deeper then what words could ever convey. Dante would reassure your worries with a few well placed hisses as he hold you to his chest, muttering against your head 'love ya too cuddle bug, keep the bed warm for me, wear my old coats, anything if it makes you feel better.'

all before forcing himself to pull away as he mourned the loss of your warmth for the duration of the mission, wishing for it to hurry up so he could go back home to you, even going so far as to make his thoughts known vocally. 'can we finish this right now? i've got a date with the warmest, most comfiest bed to make promise of.' the bed in this scenario is you.

you tell him you love him before drifting off to sleep? feeling so warm by his bodily heat and inable to let him go even an inch? Dante will coo and cuddle closer to you as he pepers kisses across your face before finally your lips.

'don't wander too far sweetheart.' he'd murmur in a tone unlike his usual and overused one. he means it when he tells you not to wander too far from him, for he fears that this is all a dream he'll never truly got to live out entirely.

and dante didn't want that, he wanted to stay here with you for as long as he could, to finally get a taste of the domestic lifestyle in your own uniue way of having strawberry sundaes and pizza to your heart's content. sure it's not healthy but it's what makes you both happy.

Vergil

Vergil is probably the type to say 'you too' after you say 'i love you' those words are strong and emotionally charged words to be saying as frequently as you do, he's not going to say them so quickly.

not unless he was certain that you weren't going anywhere, not unless he was certain he wasn't going anywhere becuase until then he wont say shit.

it's not something i can see this man doing unless he's 100% certain he can't see himself anywhere other than your side.

so he admires your ability to be so open about your feelings, about how you feel towards him without making him think deeply into your every action towards him, knowing he nver has to second guess you as you said what you meant and meant what you say.

whenevever you said 'i love you' to Vergil he feels like he doesn't deserve a love as pure and as unconditional as yours, he feels like a fraud and it sometimes make him want to scream and ask what could you possbly love about him so freely and without judgment?

it doesn't make sense to him at all, but yet he still lets you claim you love him until he finally begins to feel the effects of every 'i love you' you had ever said to him.

during missions, his mind will wander back to you, wanders back to the 'i love you' you said to him beforhand as he wonders what you were doing without him, wonders whether you were waiting for him in his makeshift study reading one of his many books just to feel closer to him

like he knew you did whenever he came home to you sleeping with a half open book in your hand. suddenly his resolve to being done with the mission swiftly became to one of finishing the mission to see you again,

his glacier heart had softened enough by your warmth at long last as he reconciles with the idea thar you love him with no known bounds to speak of, you love simply becuase you do.

your words are no trickery but a simple proclomation, a reminder that his place within your heart had not changed nor wavered. it has not soured, it had ripened and blossomed like a beautiful flower and he had the audacity to question it, foolishness.

so the moment he got home, you ecitedly greeted him from the study, hold his hand by the fingertips, telling him you love him and for what felt like the first time out of many to come, he smiled softly at you and greets you with a small 'hello again little dove.'

'hello again little dove' or just 'hello little dove' is his version of 'i love you.'

you admit your love in the morning to him, having been protectively tucked into the crook of his neck, arms latched to his waist as his back was to the door out of a habit to protect and keep you safe. He'd say 'hello again little dove' in response, his heart softening more when you smiled brightly at him afterwards.

you admit your love when seeig him off to sleep? voice soft as a feather as your voice lulls him into a sense of saftey, sense of belonging with you by his side. he'll say 'i'll see you soon little dove.' reminding you that even in your dreams, he'd follow like a protective second shadow.

[lcverwrites]

the lovers ― aegon targaryen

THE LOVERS ― AEGON TARGARYEN ... (part one) (2.3k)

summary ... aegon had never known the tender touch of love, from the cradle as a babe, he was cursed to be unlovable. his mother held no love for him, only the safety he provided her. his father never spared him a glance, to sickness struck to see past his golden daughter. his siblings were indifferent to him, never really having the want to dig past his drunkard front. but then came her... aegon never understood why she loved him, what she saw in him that others could not, what he could not see in himself. but thank the gods above, there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her devotion, because the unlovable had finally found someone who loved him; and who he loved in turn. pairing ... aegon ii targaryen x tyrell!reader (wife reader) warnings ... self loathing, talks of being unlovable, strained family dynamics, targcest (mentioned, but not seen), hurt/comfort, angst, trying to heal from unhealthy relationships, mentions of drinking, supportive wife mode note ... I want this fictional man a healthy amount, as you can clearly see. I might make some more things for this couple in the future, cause they've been on my mind for a loooong time. I just want to love this man for a second, after the shit storm they put him through this season. Let me know if you want more of aegon x tryell!reader, perhaps some smut between these two lovers 😏🫶🏻

next part >>

⠀⠀⠀Voices spoke muffled words around Aegon, drowning him in their monotonous sounds, unimportant and distant from his thoughts. Aegon knew he should have been listening to his merriment of council members, they were talking about the needs of the realm, the wants of the smallfolk, the unwarranted needs of the already wealthy lords and ladies in his court, the impending doom awaiting them across the sees, with his sister plotting to take the crown from his very head.

The crown she was once promised, The Realms Delight was worlds away now, and the crown snuggly sat upon Aegon's head, the doing of the Mother and Grandsire, the controlling hands that guided Aegon under the guise of their affection and want to see him succeed, to bring the promised peace Viserys once spoke about.

But Aegon knew better now.

His mother held no love for her eldest son. She held him at arms length, with contempt, her lips pursed as if she couldn't ever fathom smiling at her own son. With a faux guiding hand, never reaching for a tender touch, only a harsh slap to awaken him from thoughts of straying from the path laid out for him. Alicent Hightower liked to believe she loved her children to the best of her ability, but Aegon knew better, knew that her love came with conditions, and Aegon's was to keep the safety of her family, even if he was killed in the process.

His Grandsire was a bitter old man, who reached above his station as hand of the king, all but ready to snatch the crown from Aegon himself. He was the driving force for Aegon's ascension, seeing the malleable drunk as a way to reach his ultimate prize, to be King through Aegon. There wasn't a bone in Otto Hightower that cared for Aegon past the power he could bring him.

Aegon could hear his mothers docile voice, sweeter than those of the men whom sat around her. Her words blurred into a flurry of movement, her lips parts around the words he wasn't taking in.

He watched his mother. Seeing his lips in her mirror image, full and pink, a slight downtick in the right corner, a frown always threatening to take her tender disposition by the throat. He could see the shape of her eyes, wide like a doe, but all innocence was washed away by a bland rage that barely simmered beneath their dark pools of amber liquid, subdued and boring. She could see her picking at the skin of her nailbeds, a bad habit she never outgrew in her youth, a habit she passed onto Aegon, if his red and raw nails were a certain sign.

He could see so much of himself in Alicent, in his own mother, a mirror into Aegon's soul. But all she could see in Aegon was his father, and she despised him for it.

His gaze traversed from his mother, to the stoic statue was his brother. Foreboding and concealed all at the same time, Aemond was a fearsome foe.

Aemond spoke little, hums of approval passed his sealed lips, displeased puffs of air fled from his nose. When words did leave his lips, they were precise, vicious and cold in the manner, strait to the point, never one to flounder and flaunt with unnecessary grandeur. He spoke as if he were a worldlier man, knew the bitterments was war and what was required to secure their victory, through fire and blood, through destruction and death. Aegon didn't know if it meant their own destruction or their foes, Aemond's want for power knew now bounds.

It's what desired him to his Grandsire.

He saw a likeness in Aemond that he didn't see in Aegon, and he held hatred and resentment for his oldest grandson.

Aemond paid no mind to Aegon, as if he was not there, the chare beneath him empty, no figurehead to be seen. He spoke to the counsel with the convection of a King, hand perched on the hilt of his sword, as if ready to strike at any given moment, lest one of the lords spoke against him, as if it were treason.

As young boys, Aegon and Aemond were like most boys he supposed. They poked and prodded at one another, until one of them bled, pleading for the other for mercy, running and crying to their mother. Often it was Aegon tormenting Aemond for his lack of dragon, for being the boring little know it all, smacking him against in the training yard in the name of bettering his skills, but Aegon wanted his little brother to feel even just a moment of the bitter resentment he felt feasting in his insides, sloshing around with the sweetened wine he drank himself into a stupor with.

He wanted his brother to feel small, unwanted, unloved, just as he felt. But no matter what Aegon did, his brother would always have their mother behind him, caressing his with the tender touch he craved. The lick his wounds with her tender voice, chaste kisses to the crown to his head, all the while berating Aegon in the same breath.

Aegon knew he shouldn't have treated Aemond so, they were both circumstance of their family, they were the only people who could truly understand each other, but resentment flooded Aegon's bones, strengthening his hatred for everyone whom shared his blood, and couldn't taste the bitter bite of his flesh.

Aemond resented Aegon for what he was given, just because he had the audacity to be born first. He was given the crown of their founding family, he was given the undeserving respect of the smallfolk, he was given the time and energy the the King's counsel. He was given the best tutors and training teachers, but he never respected what has trust upon him, not in the way Aemond would have welcomed him. Now his brothers days were spent on the throne he desired so, drunk in his cups and stupidly stuttering around like the idiot Aemond has always known Aegon to be.

Aegon leaned back in his uncomfortable chair, hand reaching out to play with the ball before him, the marble feeling cool beneath his heated palms. He felt as of he were just melting into the wood beneath him, and no one seemed to notice.

Except...

A hand reached for his arm, a delicate little thing, decorated with gentle rings that glimmered in the afternoon light, shimmering shades of glittering gold, azure blue and brilliant emerald. The smooth skin of a palm caressed his forearm, thumb digging into the malleable skin beneath his wrist, as if she knew he was slowly floating away, grounding him to this moment, to her touch.

Oh but she....

She was a marvellous thing. Aegon hadn't seen anything so precious in his life, so delicate, so wonderfully beautiful. There weren't enough words in the world for Aegon to describe her, nothing could ever truly do her justice, and he had tried, many a times, much to her amusement.

The Lady Tyrell had been a gift Aegon knew he wasn't deserving of, it was as if the gods were cursing him to gaze upon the mirror of the Maiden, but never being good enough, strong enough, smart enough to be worthy of even a glimpse in his direction. Aegon would only think himself lucky enough to dream about her gentle touch, to be the lucky man whom would receive her affection, to have her smile at him in a manner he'd never seen a maiden smile before.

Her smile started small, only an upward pulling in the right corner of her lips, inch by inch, her pretty pink lips would stretch in the most delicious curve, revealing the pearls of her teeth, little creased would dip in the skin of her cheeks as she would freely smile, a crinkle would form in her nose, her eyes would glitter with a golden looking happiness, as if you were the centre of her world in that very moment, the very reason she was smiling, like you were the only thing that could make her happy.

Aegon wished he could bottle the feeling her smile encapsulated, pure and true happiness unlike anything Aegon has felt before.

How could a persons smile be so contagious?

Despite his reservations, the Lady Tyrell held no contempt for him. She gazed upon him as if she were seeing him for what he was and she was willing to accept him, bitter soul and all.

The Lady Tyrell squeezed his arm, only once, and it was enough to have Aegon retreating from the narrow tunnel he was burrowing himself into. His gazed picked up from the marble to look upon the visage of his wife.

His Wife.

They'd been married when they were ten and three respectively, much to young to be married, but as is the way Aegon supposed. He hadn't even been given the chance to speak with her, before it was announced in the King's Counsel that they were to be married.

But they've come a long way from those scared children they had been all those years ago.

But the one thing that hadn't changed, was the devotion and love she had bestowed upon Aegon. Day in and day out, there wasn't a moment in time where she didn't love him.

"Perhaps the counsel should take a breath" Her melodic voice pierced through his muffled thoughts, like it always did, his every being was tuned into every sound and moment she made.

"Pardon, your grace?" Lord Lannister paused a moment, looking at her with a look of confusion.

"You have been discussing for hours now" She mildly replied, keeping an easy smile on her lips, looking like the pliant woman they demanded she be. "If we were to be attacked by our foes, they would have done so already, surely you all see this"

"Just because it hasn't happened, does not mean it will not happen" Otto Hightower's condescending voice bounced around the room, looking down upon the Lady Tyrell, as if she were a speck of dirt on his boot.

Aegon clenched his fist, loathing that she was rained down upon by Otto's hatred because she was connected to Aegon.

She never seemed to waiver beneath his gaze, nodding demurely at the Hand, as if she were bending to his whims.

"I do not disagree my Lord" She announced. "But perhaps we have spoken on the themes of war for much to long"

"Your Grace, forgive me for speaking so candidly--"

"Then do not"

All eyes turned to Aegon, who for the first time since the counsel had gathered, had found himself voicing the words that had been rattling around in the back of his throat.

"The Queen has excused you" Aegon bluntly replied, leaning further back in his seat, pulling his arm along with him, turning it just so, allowing his palm to slide right along her. Their fingers gliding together like magnets pulling them together, locking them in place.

Aegon relished the feeling of her warm palm beneath his own, smooth skin against his own rough calloused skin, like silk against leather. The cool metal of her rings biting into his warm skin, a zinging shock to his system.

"Aegon, the counsel needs to speak about--" Alicent tried to gage her son back into the conversation, but Aegon was already detached from everything that was her.

"Your King has dismissed you" Aegon interrupted his mother.

Aegon looked to his mother, seeing her lips parted in surprise. She wasn't used to Aegon snapping at her so, he had always been so willing to bow to his mother, wishing for her affection in return.

But he now knew what love without restraints and conditions tasted like, he craved the affections of his wife, whom would willingly allow him to be loved without limits.

"Fuck off" Aegon waved off the counsel.

He didn't even watch as each member grumbled up their breath about something or the other. He didn't notice the shared look of concern on his Mother and Grandsires faces, he didn't see the glare Aemond had wagered his way, icy and void of any brotherly affection. He didn't see any of it, and if he had, he wasn't sure he would care.

Not when she was gazing upon him as she always had.

With love.

"You may have been too crass my love" She smiled as the last of the counsel left the room, the foreboding doors slamming closed behind Otto Hightower himself, sealing himself out of reach of the King.

"They are a bunch of power hungry cunts" Aegon shrugged.

"Be that as it may" She conceded with a soft smile. She pushed herself from her seat, keeping her hand within Aegon's, walking around her corner of the table, until she was standing directly beside the chair Aegon was currently lounging in. "They are here because they support your cause"

Aegon huffed a breath through his nose.

He used their connected hand to haul his wife's body into his lap, she fell willingly into his embrace, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders.

"I do not wish to speak about them anymore" Aegon announced, shifting his wife further into his lap, until the side of her body was pressed firmly against his chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the thick fabric of her dress.

"Then we shall not" She decided, resting her forehead against his temple.

In this moment, Aegon hadn't ever imagine he would feel a love like this. He couldn't have ever pictured someone would love him for what he was, not for what he could give them.

He placed a gentle kiss against her cheek, enticing a soft smile to paint her pink lips.

Whatever god had decided to bring the two lovers together, he was praying that nothing would bring them apart.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [2] - Retaliation

A.N: I watched Thunderbolts* and I am ✨back on my bullshit✨ 🩷

I hope you guys like it! 🥰 Please let me know what you think! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Actions have consequences.

Warnings: Unwanted touching in the workplace (nothing graphic but please be careful reading it) , mentions of vaping, mentions of violence

Word Count: 3434 (and yes, this was supposed to be a blurb)

This chapter can be read as a standalone but if you want to see more of them, here is chapter 1! 🩷

It wasn’t very often that you were late to work, and if it were any other time you would be rushing inside, darting past everyone but your therapist had been very insistent about you taking some time early in the morning to ground yourself, so here you were; outside the building, focused on your breathing.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy,” you said, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “I am rich, I am that bitch—”

“What are you doing?”

You jumped out of your skin, your eyes snapping open with a gasp to see Bucky watching you with a curious look in his eyes. You let out a breath, pressing a hand over your chest.

“You scared me!”

“Sorry about that.” Bucky gave you an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you, it’s a force of habit. What are you doing?”

You gestured at the building.

“It’s gonna be chaos in there,” you said. “I didn’t have time to do my affirmations this morning so I’m doing them before I walk in.”

“Affirmations?”

“Yeah, I usually do them in front of the mirror but like I said, didn’t have time,” you said. “I’m almost done, I’ll be right there.”

“It’s okay, I can wait,” Bucky said and you shrugged your shoulders, then closed your eyes again and clasped your hands in front of you.

“I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am rich, I am that bitch,” you recited. “If the world is a high school, I’m the head cheerleader. If the world is a knee, I’m Tonya Harding. If the world is an open buffet, I’m a damn snack. I have the confidence of an evil tech bro and the looks of a pretty princess, and I get princess treatment from the universe.”

You opened your eyes to find Bucky staring at you in utter confusion, but as soon as he realized you were finished, he nodded his head fervently.

“Uh—” He seemed at a loss for words. “Amen?”

You pursed your lips to control your smile, then walked into the building with him following you.

“How come you didn’t have time this morning?” he asked and you hummed.

“Me and the rest of the team went to karaoke last night,” you said. “Got plastered, and the last thing I remember is me and Kelsey trying to sing Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Bucky let out a chuckle and followed you to your desk. “Isn’t Queen a bit too old for you?”

“Queen is goddamn timeless, take that back.”

“No I’m surprised you know—”

“I’m also surprised you know Queen, it’s a bit too new for you,” you teased him back as Caleb put a file on your desk.

“There you go Birdie.”

“Caleb!”

Bucky raised his brows. “Birdie?”

“She sings like a bird, I’ll send you the video,” Caleb replied with a grin and you pointed at him.

“I’ll kill you once I’m off the clock.”

“With your voice?”

“With a knife,” you said and he feigned a gasp, then walked away from you. You let out a whine.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Don’t think so Birdie.”

“I will kill you too,” you told Bucky as he shot you a smirk that made your stomach do a pleasant flip. “I’m serious. I have tricks you don’t even know about.”

“I’m very intimidated.”

“You should be,” you said and turned your laptop on, then clicked on a file. “By the way, you have a meeting with Mr. Thompson today, are you prepared?”

Bucky made a face. “I don’t really like that guy.”

“And unfortunately politics doesn’t care about who you like,” you said, your eyes glued to the screen as you attached the file to the email. “We can use him and his connections, so play nice alright?”

“No promises—”

“Yes promises.” You glared at him. “Yes promises right now.”

Bucky groaned and threw his head back. “But listen—”

“Go look over the email I sent you, it has everything you need for your meeting with him.”

“When did you send me an email?”

“Just now.”

“You’re talking to me right now, how did you—?”

“I’m great at my job, that’s how,” you told him and pointed at his office without taking your eyes off the screen. “Go. He will be here in two hours.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the infamous Winter Soldier, the future Congressman, the great Bucky Barnes was sulking but he walked away without protest, making you repress a smile.

By the time Mr. Thompson’s meeting with Bucky was over, it was nearly lunch time. Caleb and Kelsey were already vaping outside, and you sent the email you had been working on for the last couple of minutes, then grabbed your purse to leave the office, your eyes still glued to your phone. Your whole focus was on the news article about Bucky, so you didn’t even realize the man who was about to step out the door as well until you bumped into him and your head shot up.

“Oh, sorry about that Mr. Thompson!” you said and gave him an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Oh no no, after you,” he said and you passed by him but as soon as you did, you felt his hand on your butt. Your whole body froze, your stomach lurching with the sudden panic that crashed onto you out of nowhere while he walked past you, his driver opening the door for him. You stared at his car until it drove off, your eyes burning with unshed tears, bile coating the back of your throat but you forced yourself to swallow, tightening your jaw.

“Hey, you ready?” Kelsey asked, the blueberry scent of her vape filling your lungs as you took a deep breath, then blinked back the tears.

“Sure!” You tried to smile. “Let’s—let’s go.”

                                            *

You couldn’t even decide who you were angry at more.

He was a perverted asshole, that was for sure, but now that you were thinking about it, you should’ve yelled at him.

Or slapped him.

Or did something other than freezing in your spot like an idiot.                                       

The tension hadn’t left your body for the whole day, no matter how much you tried to focus on work. All you wanted was to go home and take a long shower and bury yourself under the covers, so once everyone started to leave the office, you grabbed the file and knocked on Bucky’s door.

“Hey, here are the files for tomorrow,” you rasped out and put them on his desk. “I’m gonna leave if that’s all.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look okay.”

If it were any other time, you would’ve come up with a snarky comment but you were way too tired to do so.

“Um, I just want to go home if you don’t need me for the rest of the evening.”

Bucky stood up from behind his desk to approach you, his pleasant scent tickling your nose.

“What happened?” he asked softly and you bit inside your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Listen, if it were any other time I would be thrilled to see you leave on time for once, but not like this,” he said. “What is it?”

You shifted your weight, your eyes cast on the desk just so that you could focus on something other than the threat of tears tingling the bridge of your nose.

“Just a bad day I guess.”

“Who’s responsible for that?”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, the dread in your stomach easing just a little.

“Why, are you gonna go Winter Soldier on them?”

“If needed.” His voice didn’t hold a teasing tone unlike before, instead it was almost dark. “Who?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “We’re making you a congressman, you can’t do the whole scary super assassin thing anymore—”

“Who?” he repeated and you heaved a sigh.

“You were right about Mr. Thompson,” you muttered. “He is an asshole who pretends to be a gentleman. Apparently he holds the door open for you with his left hand to feel you up with his right hand.”

The moment the words left your lips, something in his eyes shifted, making you frown in confusion before your heart started beating in your throat.

Ah.

There.

Ever since you started working for Bucky, Winter Soldier had been a popular topic among your friends. They all kept insisting that it gave him the perfect air of mystery and danger, and that it made him even hotter. You weren’t an idiot, you knew very well just how handsome he was, how he stood out among all the politicians – or anyone else in the room, to be honest— but up until this point, you had never seen any trace of the infamous Winter Soldier in him. For you, Bucky was your very, very attractive boss who was genuinely so protective, so honest and so good to people around him that sometimes you wondered if he was even fit for the dirty world of politics.

But until now, it had never crossed your mind that Bucky was perfectly capable of being the most dangerous man in the room, he just made the conscious decision to shield the world from that side of him.

“He did what?”

The low growl made your whole body warm and you could only stare at him for a couple of seconds before forcing yourself to snap out of it and licked your lips.

Bucky was your boss, you were in a relationship, and this was making you feel things you definitely weren’t supposed to feel.

“It’s nothing,” you said in a rush, taking a step back. “I’m fine, it was just….who hasn’t been through that, am I right? People suck and I—I’m just gonna go home and take a shower and forget this whole day happened. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You walked out of his office and snatched your purse off your desk without even slowing down, then left the building.

Normally, you wouldn’t be caught dead without your headphones in the subway but you were so lost in your thoughts that it was only when you reached home that you realized you weren’t wearing them. You frowned to yourself, then pressed your palms on your eyes, then dropped your hands with a sigh.

It was just because of today.

That was it.

And besides, anyone could see Bucky was handsome. It was an objective observation –hell, you were the one who kept joking that his looks would grant him a seat in the congress— so if anything, it just meant you were good at your job.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, then closed the door behind you.

“Max?”

“In here babe!”

You made your way to the kitchen to find him on a stall, his whole focus on his laptop screen. You quickly pecked him on the lips, then put your purse on the kitchen island while he clicked away at the keyboard.

“You’re home early.”

“So are you,” you said. “Oh my God, you will not believe what happened today.”

“What?”

“You remember Mr. Thompson?”

“The guy who owns that sports foundation, right?”

“Yeah, him!” you said. “So, he had a meeting with Bucky today, and it was around my lunchtime, and as I was walking out, he held the door open for me and then touched my butt!”

He looked up from his laptop.

“Holy shit, that’s fucked,” he said. “You okay?”

“Can you believe that?” you exclaimed. “He walks around like—everyone thinks he’s this sweet old guy, and he—he goes and does that? It’s so fucking disgusting!”

“It is.”

“I should’ve slapped him,” you told him. “Seriously. Or like, punched him or something. That’s what he deserves, that fucking pervert.”

“He really does,” he said. “Hey, should we have pizza for dinner?”

You blinked a couple of times, silence falling upon the kitchen as you searched for the right words through the anger burning in your head.

“That’s it?” you asked after a beat. “I’m telling you some creep groped me and your reaction is just ‘that’s fucked, what’s for dinner’?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked back with a laugh. “Challenge him to a duel?”

“If you could be angry, that would be appreciated,” you snapped and he pulled his brows together.

“I am angry.”

“Are you?”

“What, I should go and beat him up to show that to you?” he asked, his tone mocking. “It’s just a creepy guy with a wandering hand. No harm done—”

“Maybe I should be the one to decide if there’s any harm done, Max,” you growled through your teeth. “Seeing that it was my ass that was involved, literally!”

“Alright.” He let out a tired sigh. “I get that you’re upset, but there’s no need to take it out on me, I can’t do anything about what happened. There’s always gonna be creepy guys around you, you can’t let that affect you this much. It’s not gonna solve anything, it’ll just make you more upset.”

You could feel the headache creeping up on you, climbing from the base of your neck to your temples as you gritted your teeth, then ran a hand over your face.

“Wow,” you said. “You know what? I’m just gonna take a shower and go to bed. Eat whatever you want.”

“Babe, come on—” he started but you walked out of the kitchen to the hallway, then slammed the bathroom door behind you, your eyes still burning.

                                              *

Your headache was a little better when you woke up. You were still angry and hungry at the same time, so on your way to work, you got a sandwich, coffee with four shots of espresso and some pastries for yourself and the people at the office. As usual, you were the first one to arrive, so you placed the pastries in the kitchen, made your way to your desk, put your earbuds in and got to work.

You were halfway into your report when Kelsey snapped her fingers in front of your eyes, making your head shoot up.

“Thanks for the eclairs Birdie,” she said when you took out your earbuds and you made a face.

“Not you too.”

“Bucky still isn’t in?” Caleb asked as he put a file in front of you while biting into an éclair and you and Kelsey both shook your heads.

“He has that breakfast thing with—”

“With Mrs. Ainsley in Borough Park,” you said and checked the time on your laptop. “Should be here soon though.”

Caleb popped the rest of the éclair in his mouth, then sat on your desk.

“So, let’s get the theories about last night,” he said. “I say it was his wife’s boyfriend.”

“Nah, I say it was a robbery.”

“Nothing was stolen.”

“The guy is loaded, he probably has stuff he doesn’t want the public to—”

“Who are we talking about?” you cut them off and they both turned to give you a look of disbelief.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you grabbed your phone. “I’ve been working on my report since I got here, what did I miss?”

“It came out last night!”

“I had a fight with Max last night—what happened?”

Kelsey tilted her head. “What happened with Max?”

“Long story, what’s going on?”

Caleb leaned back on his palms.

“Someone broke into Mr. Thompson’s house last night.”

Your heart started beating in your throat. “What?”

“Yeah, someone broke into his house—which is insane by the way, he usually has security there and a bunch of alarms— and my journalist friend got the first report, that was definitely personal. All the bones in his right hand are basically dust now, no one knows what kind of machine they used.”

You stared at him while Kelsey let out a snort.

“He knows, he just refuses to say anything.”

“The guy is traumatized.”

“That, and he lost all his teeth.”

“Exactly. He must’ve blocked it out because if he remembered, he would’ve given the description in writing.”

No.

Absolutely not, that was—

That was a coincidence, that’s all.

Bucky didn’t care enough about you to do that, your relationship was purely professional.

“He won’t,” Kelsey said. “People say he saw who it was, but is too scared to tell the police who it is.”

“I’m telling you, it’s his wife’s boyfriend or something, there is something personal—”

He stopped talking and jumped off your desk, causing you to turn your head to see Bucky walking to his office. Bucky offered you a small smile and nodded at your friends before entering his office and you let out a breath, leaning back on your chair.

“Ugh, he’s too hot,” Kelsey said and Caleb rolled his eyes.

“He’s your boss, dumbass. Don’t shit where you eat.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Yet.”

“Listen, we all know the Venn diagram of his potential voters and the people who want to fuck him.”

“I still cannot believe Paul put that in the Powerpoint presentation, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever seen Bucky.”

“Oh please, as if Bucky doesn’t know how fuckable he is.”

“And do you realize what that means? We don’t ask people that question, it’s not in the survey, so it means almost all those voters just gave away that information voluntarily—”

“Uh, guys?” You hit print on the document, then grabbed the file out of the printer. “I’ll be right back.”  

You could swear your legs were shaky as you approached his office, then licked your lips and knocked on the door to peek your head in.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said and you stepped in, breathing fast for some reason. “I was just about to come to talk to you. How do you feel? After yesterday?”

“Oh I’m…I’m fine,” you said and rushed to put the report on his desk. “There. The latest numbers.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you said breathlessly and turned around to leave, but then changed your mind and turned around again.

“Bucky?”

His piercing blue eyes on you were soft. “Yes?”

“Did you um—did you hear about Mr. Thompson?” you stammered. “Apparently someone broke into his house last night, through the security and all the alarms.”

He raised his brows in silence.

“It’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” you insisted. “Whoever it was, he broke all the bones in his right hand.”

A small smile twitched Bucky’s lips before he shrugged his shoulders.

“He needs his left hand to open doors.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, a warmth spreading from your chest to your stomach, and lower, and lower—

Holy shit.

It was Bucky.

The warmth turned into a fire rushing through your veins, making you lightheaded while you stared at him, your stomach doing happy flips. You didn’t even realize the smile curling your lips at first but as soon as you did, you cleared your throat.

“Bucky.”

“Hm?”

“You shouldn’t have.”

He scoffed. “We’ll have to disagree on that one.”

“He has security around his house,” you insisted. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger like that.”

He seemed almost offended that you thought security could pose any danger to him and you tried to focus on the issue at hand rather than just how adorable it made him look.

“And we were trying to get his support, if anyone saw you—”

“I don’t care about his support, nor do I want it anymore.”

Focus.

He’s your boss.

Focus.

“He apologized to you, by the way,” Bucky added, mischief glimmering in his eyes. “He would’ve said it himself but he doesn’t have teeth anymore, so…”

That managed to coax a burst of laughter out of you and you covered your mouth, then dropped your hands, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach.

“Thank you,” you managed to say and he held your gaze in his, making the butterflies in your stomach even worse.

His voice was soft: “Don’t mention it.”

You lingered there for a moment, then turned around and walked out of his office to your desk where Kelsey and Caleb were still talking. You could feel the fire blooming under your cheeks but you let out a breath and sat down, willing yourself to focus.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “What was that about the Venn diagram?”

Chapter 3  

[luludeluluramblings]

Bat Boys as Dads Headcanons.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian AND Duke included.

This could be seen as how they are as partners with child/ren, or the platonic relationship they might have with their child/ren.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warnings: Made up Headcanons, SFW, wholesomeness

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

☁️ - Dick

The type of parent to be so excited about having a kid that they’re annoying.

And, not just to other people, but to his own kid.

This man is nothing but *proud dad noises*.

Takes pictures of every single milestone.

Crying over every single tiny moment and achievement.

Coddles even his teenage children a bit. Has a crises when his teenage kid/s find him annoying.

The devastation he gets when his kid/s goes through the I hate you dad phase. (Literally cries to Bruce.)

When his kids become adults though, they end up better appreciating him. Because he is a good dad.

If you hand him a baby, he will coo at a them and make the most ridiculous noises. But, if they cry, he will cry with them.

☁️ - Jason

This man is terrified of being a parent. Will panic up until delivery of each child he has. Even if he has like eight. Panic every time.

If he finds out he has a secret kid he will have an existential crisis that would make Bruce’s coping mechanisms look healthy.

Doesn’t know what he’s doing when parenting, but he is the cuddle master. Solves most things with hugs and jokes.

Somehow figures it out and has the closest bond with his kid/s. (Also, he accidentally curses in front of them which makes him the cool edgy dad.)

Will sometimes make excuses for his kids mentally while being strict.

Will never use physical punishment on his children. Never. If he ever has to whoop his kid/s, he would hate himself.

He is teaching them how to use a gun. And, he is buying them a gun. And, how to change a tie. And, how to hotwire a car. His dad lore is friggin nuts

Freezes when handed a baby. Goes completely still. If he doesn’t move he can’t hurt it.

☁️ - Tim

The dad that would literally be a perfect parent by the book. (He’s read eighteen parenting books, and so many peer reviewed articles about kids, and he will follow parenting blogs.)

Best routine management, hits all the milestones. Very active in making sure his child’s needs are met, even if it’s in the most unconventional ways.

Gets horrible imposter syndrome on if he’s a good dad or not. (He is, but he’s insecure.)

Absolutely terrified of emotional neglecting his child/ren. Will drop anything if he realizes he’s neglecting his kids by working too hard.

He gets the most sleep in his life when his kids fall asleep on his chest. The only time this man will sleep is if his kid curls up in his lap or if they have a nightmare.

When his kids grow up he gets misty eyed remembering they way they used to nap against his chest.

If you gave him a baby he would hold perfectly, or maybe in a weird way that somehow makes them stop crying and helps with colic or gas.

☁️ - Duke

Freaked out about being a dad, but also not. He knows he’s going to love his kid/s enough not to screw things up horribly, but the anxiety is still there.

Not gonna lie, he does his best to emulate his childhood. It could be a good habit or a bad habit.

Sucker for nastolgia and will try to recreate memories from his childhood with his kid. Taking them to a park he played in. Going on a vacation he’s been too.

Not because he wants to force them into something, but because he wants them to have the best parts of his favorite memories.

Plus, it just heals his inner child a bit seeing his kid/s happy.

Will do the “Back in my day…” as a joke, and maybe will exaggerate stuff a lil bit. Just a lil though.

So, gentle with a baby, but doesn’t coo. But, will sniff. New baby smell? Yes.

☁️ - Damian

An awkward (at first) and overprotective, yet can be too hard on his own child/ren.

Knows he didn’t have a normal upbringing, but too egotistical to admit he’s out of his depth when it comes to raising his kid/s.

(He had college degrees and kills before he hit the double digits in age. Yes, he knows he’s not like normal people, but he falls into the trap that his kid should be like that sometimes too.

When he realizes it, he does correct. But, he’s learning too.

Will sometimes push his kids too hard to do their best. But, only at the hobbies they choose. He won’t infringe on their choices.

Loves his kids in a stoic manner, but he loves them deeply and fiercely. (Won’t cry, but will get misty eyed at times.)

Deeply appreciates Bruce, Alfred, and Dick after he becomes a father. The amount of gratitude he feels is overwhelming.

Son of a bitch is natural at holding babies. Worse, they like him. (And, he likes them.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Something I polished up to give y’all while I try to get to work on Part Four of Pregnant!Reader. Just some wholesomeness.

A/N: I had my neck tube taken out yesterday, and it’s kinda sunk in that I had cancer. (Yeah, it was confirmed. Stage one thyroid cancer, but it’s been removed.) Might have had a mild breakdown. My dad had a different cancer when I was a kid (four), so he’s been talking me through things since I have small children too.

A/N: Thank y’all for all the asks wishing me well! I really appreciate y’all so much! Bless y’all!! 💕💕

[thewriterg]

mr and mrs ‘let me do it’

A/n; I haven’t wrote for marvel in so long… anyhow, headcanons because I can and I want to

warning(s): both miles are stubborn in their own ways, mrs independent woman reader, slithers of mama Rio, a little bickering, mentions of social norms, pet names, rusty spanish, and language l

earth 1610 miles! who’s love language is acts of service, —as well as physical touch— in which it literally makes him go insane when you don’t let him do something for you. drastic or mundane you volunteer yourself everytime and he hates it

earth 1610 miles! who has to learn to somewhat bully his way into doing things for you… you guys sitting together during lunch and you forgot to get utensils? before you can even swing your leg over the bench of the cafeteria table he’s already up walking back to the cart that carries condiments, napkins, plastic packaged utensils and things of the sort

earth 1610 miles! where you both turn it into a little competition on who can help the other one more. you ask him to hold your phone so you can tie your shoe? that’s cute, meanwhile he fully gets down on one knee and ties them for you. Oh, his dorm is messy and he can’t find his notes he needed to finish over the weekend back home? meanwhile, your in your own room copying down what you you wrote from your notes filled with scribblings of words onto his semi empty notebook.

earth 1610 miles! who likes to do something to make your life a little easier no matter how big or small. your about to have a study session and you ran to the bathroom? guess who taking all the text books and notes out of your bag so you don’t have to rummage thought it? Well miles of course :)

earth 1610 miles! who loves you because you think about him and your actions really show it. he had to patrol and couldn’t watch the new episode of his favorite super hero, guess who recorded the who thing start to finish so he could watch it in his down time?

earth 1610 miles! who is in a healthy happy competition of completing services for one another with you because “Te amo aunque seas terco, mi vida.”

ミ★ミ★ミ★

earth 42 miles! who is quite literally wont take no for an answer. it got to a point where he would just start doing things for you instead of asking. you look like you’re carrying too many bags on your mini splurge at the mall? welp now you’re carrying NOTHING.

earth 42 miles! where you both grew up around the social norm of ‘the man should pay for dates with a woman’ and rather he knew it or not, miles subconsciously adapted it into his life. you on the other hand couldn’t call bull shit fast enough to save your life. however, while miles really did value your core beliefs he couldn’t really be bothered to break the habit. he wasn’t wealthy per say, but he had enough to simultaneously spoil you with things as well as help his mom with necessities.

earth 42 miles! who mutters a “watch out ma” when you even try and reach for your purse to pay for ANYTHING. total of $8.67 at the bodega trying to get snacks for your movie night? “I got it.” total of $78.92 after having appetizers, meals, and dessert? “I got it.” $250 to go get some self care done “I got it.”

earth 42 miles! that gets you so frustrated that you guys start to have petty arguments that mama Rio doesn’t stand for. yes you’re lovers, but she will still make you hug in the oversized, OVERSIZED, tshirt until you figure it out like you’re siblings.

earth 42 miles! who you have to learn just loves that way and if you want a change you have to force it yourself. the look he gave you when you came back from the “restroom” on your next weekly date having found out when he waived down your waiter that the meal was already paid for was priceless and so was the small twitch of his lips upward at the bright, proud look on your face.

©2024 thewriterg spooktober do not copy, translate, or modify.

[velvetseahorse]

Astrology observations and notes

- Mula natives can be intense in intimate relationships. Claire Nakti mentions them being energy vampires, a trait that I believe all Ketu nakshatras share. However, Mula individuals take this to an extreme—they deeply desire to consume their romantic partners or loved ones, often expressing love and affection in ways that can be violent or disturbing. For example, Mula ☽ native Amy Winehouse once carved “I love Blake” (referring to her then-boyfriend Blake Fielder-Civil) onto her stomach using a shard of glass during a photoshoot. Mula ☉ native Keith Richards snorted his own father’s ashes. He explained, “The truth of the matter is that after having Dad’s ashes in a black box for six years—because I really couldn’t bring myself to scatter him to the winds(…)when I took the lid off the box, a fine spray of his ashes blew out onto the table. I couldn’t just brush him off, so I wiped my finger over it and snorted the residue.”

- All three Pisces nakshatras (Purva Bhadrapada, Uttara Bhadrapada, and Revati) are late bloomers. This may be because Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and is connected to the 12th house, which rules moksha and the dissolution of individual existence into the eternal flow of life. The ultimate purpose of the 12th house is spiritual liberation and freedom from samsara. Sidereal Pisces natives are often tested and placed in situations where they must lose aspects of themselves to gain wisdom and grow, which can delay the usual stages of development in their lives. Pisces is naturally detached from material matters and easily in tune with its divine essence. Similar to Ketu, Pisces is often associated with spirituality and higher wisdom. In fact, many Vedic texts suggest that Ketu co-rules Pisces, but I’ll explore that topic in another blog post. The 12th house represents confinement, the subconscious, loss, endings, isolation, delusion, unseen realms, and private emotions. It is a deeply spiritual and sensitive house where suffering is often hidden, but it also holds profound wisdom when approached with the right mindset. Pisces natives are highly sensitive, and when faced with harsh realities, they often cope by withdrawing from the world. They prefer to live in a reality of their own making—a gift they naturally possess. However, they cannot escape responsibility entirely, as life’s traumas frequently force them to reflect and grow. Pisces natives are natural observers rather than active participants, and you won’t often find them following societal trends. They tend to stay alone, forging their own unique path. As escapists at heart, Pisces struggles to make sense of things logically, often relying on emotions and intuition instead. This is why Mercury debilitates in Pisces. For Pisces, life feels like a ripple in water—vast, reflective, and abyssal like the ocean. Because of their tendency toward isolation, the mundanity of life can be deeply depressing for them. They may overthink, fall into maladaptive daydreaming, or become so lost in their imagination that they miss out on their own present lives and development. Once Pisces natives stop escaping and begin addressing their emotions in a healthy way—through spiritual practices or creative expression—they can unlock their full potential. Pisces is highly creative, with Venus exalting in this sign, emphasizing their natural gifts in art, music, and storytelling. Most Pisces natives feel a calling for something greater than an average life and often possess the talent to fulfill that calling. However, their main challenge lies in taking consistent steps toward their goals and overcoming their finicky, scattered tendencies.

- Ashwini natives are prone to addiction, self-medicating habits, and mental health challenges. Ashwini is a Ketu-ruled nakshatra, and Ketu, being the opposite of Rahu (the head), represents the headless body—detached from material desires and driven by the pursuit of spiritual liberation. This detachment creates disillusionment with the material world, leaving Ketu natives in their most raw, primal state, seeking the deeper truths and secrets of existence. Ketu’s influence is often compared to Mars because both planets help break through limitations, but their motivations differ. Mars is driven by ambition and devotion, while Ketu is fueled by detachment from material pursuits. This immense detachment makes Ashwini natives especially susceptible to addiction, often as a way to numb themselves or escape from overactive mental activity. Aries, the sign ruled by Ashwini, governs the head, and Ashwini as the first nakshatra carries the primal spark of energy and mental impulses. This nakshatra relates to mental activity, making its natives highly energetic but also restless and prone to overthinking. Their constant mental stimulation can lead to exhaustion, agitation, and self-destructive behaviors if not managed well. Ashwini natives have a natural intelligence and a desire to attain things quickly. However, this need for constant intellectual or physical stimulation can result in impulsive and reckless behavior when they are not moving or engaged in something meaningful. Ashwini is a restless nakshatra, and when placed in social environments requiring conformity, natives may struggle to fit in, often resorting to sarcasm and bluntness. Their detachment from societal norms, combined with their cosmic youthfulness and childlike nature (symbolized by their deities, the young twin horses), can make them appear rude or immature. Although Ashwini natives may try to behave in a “normal” or formal manner, this often leads to frustration due to their need for freedom and stimulation. Their childlike energy and cosmic vitality are best channeled into pursuits that allow them to move, grow, and explore.

- Venus in the 12th house is a beautiful but challenging placement. Natives with this position view romance, spirituality, or even life through rose-colored glasses. While this gives them a dreamy and idealistic perspective, it can also lead to disconnection from reality, resulting in disappointment and, often, depression. Venus is desires, romance, pleasure, and art. When placed in the deeply private and spiritual 12th house, these aspects become tied to one’s emotional and spiritual well-being. People with Venus in the 12th tend to keep their relationships very private, often out of fear of outside interference. The 12th house also rules hidden enemies, which can make these natives cautious about exposing their love life. They are unconditional lovers, often idealizing their partners to the extent that they may overlook toxic or unbalanced dynamics. It’s common for Venus in the 12th natives to love more intensely than their partners, which can lead to one-sided or non-secure relationships, such as secret affairs. These natives are often seduced by the idea of love in their minds, finding it difficult to accept the reality of their situation. This disconnection can lead to insecurity, particularly regarding their self-image. Physically, those with Venus in the 12th house are quite beautiful, but they may struggle to see or embrace their own beauty, feeling unworthy of love. Despite these challenges, Venus in the 12th house produces some of the most empathetic, self-sacrificial, and artistically gifted individuals. Venus is exalted in Pisces, the ruler of the 12th house, which enhances their creative potential. The 12th house governs hidden things, so natives may have hidden artistic talents that they should explore. They can create art that has a profound emotional and spiritual impact, capable of healing others and excel in surrealist forms of expression, romantic poetry, music, and visual mediums that convey unexplainable yet resonating emotions.

- Ashlesha and Uttara Bhadrapada bring to mind the effects of anesthesia. Ashlesha represents the beginning stages of anesthesia, with its Shakti—the power to inflict poison—a clinging and restrictive energy that feels paralyzing. This is akin to how anesthesia is injected into the nervous system, suppressing consciousness and inducing a detached, deep sleep-like state. Uttara Bhadrapada represents the culmination of this process, embodying the state of deep sleep. Its deity, Ahirbudhnya—the serpent of the depths—reflects the energy of stillness and dissociation of what’s above (reality/conciousness) , as well as the 12th house’s connection to sleep and the unconscious. Uttara Bhadrapada signifies the transcendental detachment from the physical body, much like the dissociative, dream-like state brought on by anesthesia. Ahirbudhnya’s symbolism as the serpent of the deep ocean mirrors the sensation of being submerged or taken into a controlled, deep state under anesthesia. Ashlesha’s clinging, paralyzing venom parallels Uttara Bhadrapada’s surrender and stillness, with both evoking states where the body is subdued or transcended. Ashlesha operates through the subconscious and instinctual nervous responses, while Uttara Bhadrapada focuses on spiritual transcendence. Anesthesia acts as a bridge between these realms, allowing the body to rest while bypassing conscious awareness.

- Pushya and Krittika natives can have features characterized by full lips, almond-shaped or wide-set eyes, which can also be rounded and downturned , or upturned and almond shaped typically deep-set. They tend to have very soft cheeks and overall gentle facial features, even among Krittika natives. Those born under the sheep yoni have soft, curly, or full hair. These natives dislike being alone and will often join others they can’t emotionally or socially relate to simply to avoid solitude. Krittika is in the ♉︎ and ♈︎ rashi, while Pushya is in ♋︎. Interestingly, Taurus exalts the Moon, and Krittika is the nakshatra where the Moon is exalted. Despite their planetary differences, both share similarities, including being associated with the goat/sheep yoni consort. Both Krittika and Pushya are nurturing by nature; however, Pushya leans toward giving, while Krittika tends to receive. There is a pure aura about them, as they are spiritually pure at their core and often sacrificial. For example, Joan of Arc, a Pushya ↑, led French armies based on divine visions she claimed to have, ultimately leading to her martyrdom by being burned at the stake—an example of these nakshatras embodying the archetype of sacrificial lambs. Krittika’s symbol is a blade, and the name itself means “one who cuts.” Its deity, Agni, the fire god, represents purification through fire, especially of the soul. Krittika women, in particular, can face disdain from both men and women due to their sovereign and independent nature. They are often misunderstood and may fall victim to others attempting to humble or overpower them.

Ebonee Davis - Pushya ↑ Halle Berry - Pushya ☽ Krittika ♈︎ ↑

Spike Fearn - Krittika ♈︎ ☽ Mick Jagger - Pushya ☉ krittika ♉︎ ☽

-Jyeshtha natives are known for being great writers, excelling in songwriting, literature, poetry, and rap. There are many notable poets, rappers, and songwriters with Jyeshtha placements, including Ottessa Moshfegh, Joan Didion, Bob Dylan, Emily Dickinson, Jim Morrison, Clarice Lispector, and Sonny Hall. Rappers like Nicki Minaj and JT, as well as singer-songwriters such as Sinead O’Connor and Tom Waits, also carry strong Jyeshtha energy. Jyeshtha is ruled by Mercury, which governs communication and expression through use of speech and writing. It also rules numbers and words and how we use them to problem-solve and convey ideas. Known as the “elder,” Jyeshtha’s deity is Indra, and Jyeshtha natives tend to excel because of their high standards, ambition and intuitive expertise in their craft. Relying in the ♏︎ rasi—a mysterious, transformative, intense, and passionate sign co-ruled by Mars and Ketu—Jyeshtha natives delve into themes of impersonal tragedy, exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche. Their writing is distinguished by their technique, style, and wordplay. Mars appears prominently in charts of many rappers through both signs (Aries and Scorpio) and nakshatras (Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanishta).

- Chitra nakshatra is quite similar to the Venus nakshatras in terms of behavior in my opinion. Chitra is all about refinement, creativity, beauty, and enjoying things that appeal to the senses. Although ruled by Mars, its connection to Venus (♎︎) and Mercury (♍︎) gives it a visually oriented and perfectionist nature, much like the Venus nakshatras, which are immensely creative. Both Chitra and Venus nakshatras share a tendency to push boundaries, sometimes indulging in taboo subjects. Venus nakshatras are known for their exclusivity, often socializing and collaborating only with other Venus nakshatra natives. Similarly, Chitra exhibits a form of discrimination by networking and associating only with those they deem worthy—often based on aesthetics or social status. Chitra natives are also highly judgmental, frequently offering unsolicited critiques because they cannot tolerate anything they perceive as imperfect. This mirrors the Venusian tendency to prioritize beauty and refinement above all else Especially because Venus (Shukra), the guru of demons and Chitra is demonic Rakshasa gana. there are, of course, key differences between Chitra and the Venus nakshatras.

- Saturn in the 4th house: The 4th house is one of the most private houses in astrology, ruled by Cancer, which is governed by the Moon (representing emotions). This house symbolizes our early home environment, upbringing, and especially our relationship with our mother. The mother is our first home (the womb) and nurtures us emotionally. How our parents teach us to regulate emotions is crucial for our emotional well-being. However, with Saturn in the 4th house—a restrictive and malefic planet—its energy clashes with Cancer’s nurturing qualities, as Saturn is in its detriment in this sign. Saturn represents coldness, self-limitation, underdogs/outcasts, effort, and karma. Natives with Saturn in the 4th house experience a difficult childhood, being forced to mature quickly and take on heavy responsibilities at a young age. They may feel disconnected from peers, unable to engage in carefree, childish behavior due to these responsibilities. This placement often indicates a mother who is emotionally distant or invalidating. These natives might have been told to “be strong” instead of expressing their emotions. In some cases, they may have served as their mother’s emotional crutch, catering to her emotional needs instead of receiving the nurturing they needed. Traumatic family events may linger, leaving them feeling tied to their family out of a sense of duty. For Saturn in the 4th house natives to thrive, they need to move away from their homeland or create physical distance from their family. Despite the hardships, individuals with this placement tend to develop deep empathy, a strong sense of responsibility, and profound wisdom. However, they are prone to anxiety and mood disorders, making it crucial for them to seek therapy, learn emotional regulation, and to give themselves a break and allow themselves love by building a supportive community that provides comfort and belonging.

- Jupiter in the 5th House: The 5th house is an important and auspicious house in astrology, representing past karmas and influencing one’s life journey. Creation is a central theme of the 5th house, whether through children, art, intellect, or ideas. With Jupiter placed here, this becomes a highly favorable position. Jupiter, known as Guru, is an expansive planet that represents luck, joy, knowledge and abundance. It thrives on self-improvement through activities like reading, studying, meditation, and creative pursuits such as music or painting. Natives with Jupiter in the 5th house feel an innate optimism about education, creativity, and spirituality. They approach learning and creating with a sense of childlike curiosity and openness, allowing them to absorb knowledge and express their creativity with purity and innocence. This mindset helps them flourish in these areas. Because the 5th house also rules children, individuals with this placement have a growth-oriented relationships with children. They may naturally take on roles as teachers, mentors, or guides, and children are likely to be drawn to them easily. Their own children will be blessed as well. However, this positive energy is best expressed when the 5th house is free from malefic influences or harmful conjunctions to Jupiter. Without such hindrances, Jupiter’s energy shines brightly, encouraging intellectual and spiritual growth. It’s important for those with Jupiter in the 5th to remain mindful of their potential naivety. While optimism and generosity are key strengths, they must remember that actions still carry consequences. Overindulgence or excessive reliance on luck can negatively affect their karmic balance. To truly thrive, these natives should strive to give as much as they receive, ensuring that their abundance benefits not just themselves but others as well.

*All these notes are just based off my own personal observations and readings. It may not resonate everyone with these placements

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[shuatm]

small moments of intimacy    ⃕ ♡ bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, & hwang hyunjin. gen reader. heart warming fluff. 921 words.

chan – routine is dropping both his bags and his career at the front door, shoes discarded and worries momentarily forgotten once the smell of your favorite food hits his nose. it’s a bit chilly in the apartment–you’ve probably opened the windows to let some air in again–but he doesn’t mind. he follows the stream of light into the kitchen where he finds you faintly humming the tune of a discarded project (his heart swells with a sudden burst of affection), standing over something hot on the stove. wanting to see you in your element, he waits a moment before letting himself be known.

he purposely buys clothing in a size one too big on him, partly for the comfort of being swaddled, and partly for his shameless liking in pretending not to notice your liking to taking his clothes. you stand in the kitchen, at ease with black hoodie number-whatever just barely brushing past your thighs, but he doesn’t care. it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it? it’s cause you missed him, didn't you?

routine is seeing your face light up each time you catch him peeking around the archway, grinning in the face of his sheepishness at getting caught over and over again. his arms circle around your waist, his hello faint. warmth was always near with you—even when you remember the open window once you feel him shiver.

minho – fingers tangle with yours in an uncharacteristic show of nerves, face vacant of anything other than cool indifference. hidden underneath the table, away from the prying eyes of the public, you squeeze his hand in hopes to ease his mind about the dinner reservation with your parents—they’ve been wanting to meet you for a while now, you’d told him a way’s back. you were met with a small smile and a minho-esque comment about bringing flowers, laughing as he hounded you for wanting to impress your mother. the flowers sit next to him now, wrapped in parchment paper, but his antsiness persists still.

you don’t blame him for being nervous, even if he’d vehemently deny it up, down, right, and center. meeting the parents was always a big step—and knowing you both would be watched was enough to also want to hide under the table like a small child—but he’d wanted to be there. wanted to make a good impression.

your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in what you hope comes off as a soothing gesture. he meets your gaze for a moment, eyes roaming over your features, and squeezes back gently in response. he brings your intertwined hands up for a kiss against the back of your hand. sharing a smile, unbeknownst to your audience of two watching the two of you in your element with matching fond looks from a few feet away.

changbin – frustration seeps at the edges of your sanity, cold and unwelcoming. deadline after deadline piles upon your shoulders, forcing healthy habit after habit to be pushed further into the darkest corners of your mind to rust. lunch breaks become extra time to squeeze in just a few more letters to reach that word count, and your somewhat feeble attempt at a nighttime routine gives way to the few hours you’re even lucky enough to snag.

you don’t mean to push hangouts or leisure activities away, either. your texts are one-worded or forgotten with a reply unfinished in the bar, calls short with clear exhaustion seeping through your voice alone. he knows you don’t mean it. your space is your space regardless of if you fall back into your old ways.

so he leaves snacks where he knows you’ll see them, water bottles with post-it notes of shakily drawn smiley faces at the ends of words of encouragement or reminders to go outside for ten minutes or something funny jisung said at work he knew would make you laugh. he knows you’re sorry, that work is work and will forever be ever demanding, but he hopes you know he’s here for you through the sticky notes and crudely drawn doodles you now keep in a desk drawer safe and sound.

hyunjin – the cold weather sits as heavy as the piles of snow shoveled to the streets to clear the sidewalks, gusts of wind sharp to the touch against your skin even underneath your hat and thick gloves. you don’t even remember why you let yourself be persuaded to leave bed at this hour–but you certainly couldn’t forget the what. he’d been adamant about leaving your comfortably warm apartment for… for what, exactly? a surprise, he’d quip back with a grin, smile wide enough to make one spread across your lips as well. damn him for being cute enough to forgo a night of well deserved cuddling under the thickest blanket you owned.

hands shoved in his pockets, he squeezes your fingers excitedly, but looks over in concern when your hands begin to shake from the cold. his nose scrunches up in distaste, tinged a bit red from chill himself, and before you even think to open your mouth to poke fun at his sudden rudolph cosplay, he unwraps his scarf and begins to wrap it around your neck. your protests fall upon stubborn ears, and you can’t help but laugh when he glares at your attempt to unravel the little bow at the end.

his gaze softens, even as his shoulders bunch up from the loss of warmth. snow litters the ground in soft flakes, landing on your hat and your coat.

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Reconciliation

Warning: Still a bit angst-y. no teeth-rotting fluff. lots of drama.

Author's note: Please read "Lnds: Fighting with them" first before reading this one.

Zayne:

Well, most of the problems have been resolved already when you have heart-to-heart talks with him in his office. Although it was inevitable that you would shed a tear of frustration, Zayne would never let you go to sleep with a heavy heart.

Despite being mentally exhausted from your work and your fight, his genuine kindness will never flicker, especially towards you. When he gets home, his first instinct is to find you and check on your state—sure, you've resolved the issue through the conversation. Still, he isn't naive to think that lingering afterthoughts of the fight won't weigh your heart down.

Zayne loves you, and albeit he can't say it directly, he'd show it to you instead.

When he finds you, you are most likely lost in your thoughts, reflecting or distracting yourself in one way or another, but it will almost always be the same scenario: you will be sitting out in the garden in your nightwear.

Zayne would place his bag down and head to the kitchen to brew your favorite warm drink, doubling the amount of sweetened cocoa powder. It's not healthy to drink, but it was okay once in a while. You could hear the clinking of the teaspoon hitting the mug, and shortly after, Zayne was behind you, draping a knitted shawl over your shoulders.

He would hand you the drink and simply sit beside you in silence. He wasn't on his phone and dared not speak, letting only the chilly air envelop you both.

It wasn't awkward; there was no tension. Just silence.

And a little warmth as his hands clasped onto yours, his thumb grazing your palm.

That moment made you think that whatever you fought about felt trivial and tiny.

"I'm sorry for getting mad," you tell him lightly. "Thank you for the drink."

Zayne had said his sorries, and he didn't really need to hear one from you, but nonetheless, you were heard. He felt your head rest on his shoulders, and together, you basked under the full moon.

Xavier:

Xavier was looking for you. He went to the office and to that small hidden field, searching for an inkling of your presence. He didn't know what he would do once he managed to find you, but it was the last thought in his mind.

You weren't in your apartment, and it had already been 24 hours. Xavier waited patiently in silence, reflecting on your fight. A phantom of pain from you slapping him amplified the fear in your face, sending an ache through his heart.

He shouldn't have done that. He didn't know why. You never had the habit of running away during a fight, so he was unsure why he was unconsciously pressing you against the wall. Xavier is more than aware that his strength is incomparable to yours. You would, quite frankly, stand no chance if he used force, but that was precisely the point; he had no reason to use it.

He wanted to apologize to you, and he wanted you to reprimand him. He could take another hit from you, but what he can never accept is seeing that frightened, cornered look on your face.

You arrived pretty late into the night, and he was still there on your sofa, patiently waiting for you, almost like a little puppy. You spared him a few seconds of your glance but turned away soon after, taking off your coat, dropping your bag, and heading to the bedroom to speak.

You lay in your bed, facing away from the door because you knew too well that he would come in after you. Even then, you didn't lock the door. Xavier looked more than dejected when you didn't speak to him. You kept your position and closed your eyes shut.

Quietly, the silver-haired man made his way to your bedroom, peeking before carefully entering and lying beside you. Lightly, he clutched onto the hem of your shirt. "I want to apologize," his voice cracked a little, almost making it seem he was on the verge of tears.

"I don't like it when you corner me," you told him.

He scooted closer. "I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

"I don't like it when you don't listen to my side of the story."

"I'll listen to your side next time," Xavier said, his voice faint yet closer.

It was the perfect time to let go of your anger. You never really talked about his habit when you fight, and you were partly at fault for tolerating it, hoping he would just listen one day. But how would Xavier change something when he didn't know how it affected you so much?

You rolled over to finally face him, his eyes going wide. You stroked his cheek, the side which you slapped the day before. "I shouldn't have slapped you. I'm sorry." Luckily, you didn't hit him too hard; otherwise, the ring on your finger would've cut his face.

Relieved that you had forgiven him, Xavier grabbed the hand that stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes and basked in your warmth. "Don't be. I scared you, and I deserved that." It was a quiet moment for you. Neither of you really knew what you had to say to each other. All was forgiven, and what awaits is simply the both of you fulfilling the end of your promises.

To fill in the silence, Xavier scooted closer and closer, kissing the exposed part of your collarbone shortly after, burying his face in your chest. You smell like coffee, he thought, but rather than stir him awake, it lulled him to sleep.

It didn't take long for him to snooze off to dreamland; after all, he waited for you for a day, not once sleeping in the hopes that he could see you face to face.

Rafayel:

In this relationship, you're almost always the one who needs to go after him, coddle him like an infant, and practically mend the entire relationship. Almost.

On rare occasions, Rafayel would apologize. That was the case for that big fight between you two. You had gone no-contact, leaving him on read most of the time. You avoided the place where you could likely find him wandering about; after all, it was him who should be going after you in this fight. You didn't owe him anything.

You ended up on the sandy shore of the bay, watching the tides threaten to soil your shoe, only to retreat and slither back into the sea. The cold air brought with it the salty scent of the ocean water, bringing a slight comfort to your nose.

The roughness of the waters masked the crunching sounds of Rafayel's footsteps; only then did you notice his presence when those familiar, gentle arms circled around the dip of your waist.

Silence.

"I was looking for you," he uttered under his breath.

"Why?"

"To apologize."

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" That came out of your lips monotonously, yet it struck every fiber of Rafayel's being.

"I said too much. I was mad, and so were you, but that's not an excuse to insult you and your feelings." To Rafayel, the waves were ready to swallow him whole. Like a poor little crab, unable to run away from the sea. "I was wrong for doing that, and I was wrong for shutting you out."

The apology wasn't enough. It was sincere, but it wasn't enough. "You can't keep doing that to me, Raf. You don't even get to give me a chance to speak." You pried away the hands that tried to bring you comfort. "You curse at me, you insult everything about me, and then kick me out like I'm just a major problem you can toss aside."

You could see your lover bite his lip. Anxious.

You love Rafayel, and there's nothing that can change that, and even if you were the one running after him during your fights, he fails to comprehend that you get tired, too.

"I'm an adult," you started. "We both are, Rafayel. But when we fight, why do you belittle me so much? Do you really think that low of me? Do you think you can push me around and make me follow all of your emotional whims?"

"No!" Rafayel exclaimed, in disbelief that your thought process had led you to say what you said. "I was mad. I didn't mean anything that I sai—"

"Then treat me right, Rafayel. Is that so hard to do? Is it really complicated to just…talk? Is it so hard to just sit down on your couch and listen to me?" You kept your lips shut, eyes staring at him without much thought. The usual cheery tone of your voice, nowhere in sight, in its wake, exhaustion. "I can only do so much for you, and I'm growing tired the more you do this to me—I get tired as well, Rafayel. You need to realize that."

The poor man didn't know what to say. Your words invaded his head, ridding it of any thought. They hurt. They stung at his heart. His fingers raised to lightly pull the hem of your sleeve, eyes meeting yours, glossy and flickering with fear; with hesitation, he asked: "Are you…breaking up with me?"

"I love you too much to break up with you." You took his cold hands. "I want to make us work. So help me. I can't do this alone." You tell him.

Your fingers were tiny against his own, yet they belonged in the in-betweens. You closed them and placed a kiss on the back of his palm.

He pulled you into an embrace, tightly, like the world was about to end in a matter of seconds.

He was cold, but his hug was warm. "I promise I'll work on myself. I don't want to hurt you again, and I don't want you to get tired of me." Rafayel whispered in your ear. "So don't give up on me. I'll change…"

The spare hand that hung on your hand gradually crept up his back, finding its usual place between Rafayel's shoulder blades. You rubbed small circles, the only comfort you could provide despite your exhaustion.

"I'll hold you to your word." You pressed a kiss on his cheek. As you did, you realized something you didn't a few minutes before.

Rafayel's exposed neck, his thin clothing, and his sandals didn't cover his whole feet. In the cold seaside, Rafayel looked like a madman wearing an indoor outfit, as if he had just walked out of his home without much thought. No wonder why he was so cold. He was shivering both at the thought of you nearly breaking up with him and because of the chilly mists of water hitting his way.

You unrolled the cotton scarf that warmed your neck, wrapping it around him instead. "Let's head home, I don't want you getting sick."

He quietly complied, pulling away from you but keeping your hand locked with his.

Sylus:

The same things happen again and again; it makes you feel numb. Empty.

There was no difference when you woke up alone or when you woke up in his embrace. Not when you were fighting.

Not tonight.

Sylus was awake. You couldn't see him due to the sheer darkness of his room, but he was there, his thumb brushing against your nape while a leg crossed over yours. You stared off into the corner of the room, wondering who was going to speak first.

"We're not breaking up, sweetie." It was more of a demand rather than a statement.

"We won't," two can play at his game. "If you apologize." Nobody would want to be abandoned and left hanging for a month. Especially not you.

You mustered the strength to push yourself up, expecting a bit of restraint from your lover—to your surprise, he let you stand up.

"Apologize for what, exactly? It was you who decided to test my patience. You were the one who cursed at me, calling me names and even throwing things in my way, so pray-tell, sweetie, what do I have to apologize for?" He stared at you, his gaze unfaltering and intense.

"I'm sorry," you stood your ground, yet the apology was long due. "I don't remember what we fought about, but I apologize. For cursing at you, for throwing things in your face. That won't happen again."

A lengthy breath escaped his lips, sounding unsatisfied with your seemingly half-hearted and shallow apology. Sylus wouldn't want to admit it to you, but he doesn't even know why he was mad; all Sylus knew that evening was that he was overcome with too much anger, one that he would usually release through violence. But it involved you. He doesn't want to hurt you or lay a hand on you, so the best option he has is to get away.

He didn't know for how long he should be gone, and in the blink of an eye, a full month had passed.

His anger had long been gone the same time as your loneliness began to fester.

As simple as the apology sounded, it was more than enough for him. "You're forgiven. Don't do that to me ever again."

The man stood up, and you watched his figure as he strode closer to you. He could see the look in your eyes, the anguish mixed with despair, and as he was about to pull you into a hug, a reverberating slap echoed in his room.

The back of his hand stung. And so did your palm.

"You're not going to touch me until you apologize, too, Sylus." Your throat burned at your own words. Your feet felt like they were buried half an inch into the floor, preventing you from running away. He looked down at you, low-lidded eyes devoid of any life.

"Why should I?"

You wanted to laugh at his crap.

"Why is it that you demand compensation every time I leave you on read for more than 3 days? Why do I have to explain where I've been, who I was with, and why I was gone while you—" A bitter laugh bloomed out of your mouth, "While you come here and not even offer a single bit of an explanation nor an apology?"

Sylus offers nothing in exchange for your words. He avoided you, that he can't deny. He used his work as an excuse to bury you at the back of his head and intentionally minimized your presence in his life.

"Hah," the ache at the back of your neck crept to the back of your head, nearly sending your head to throb all over. "You're unfair, Sylus. You're so goddamn unfair that…" You couldn't continue the words you wanted to say. It will only fan the flame in your heart and his.

"I just," the shiver in your breath snapped Sylus into reality. The feeling in your throat was uncomfortable. It was slowly becoming tangled, choking you of air. "I just want an apology from you, Sylus. Even just a small apology for abandoning me." And the fact that you had to beg him for it is just…

Sylus wrapped his hand around you, keeping your arms in place. You tried to break free from his grasp, but he held on to you tightly, not offering you a way out. Your face was smashed against his chest, and you could hear his heartbeat, pumping, beating all too fast.

"Forgive me," Sylus whispered. "There's no excuse for what I did."

His words were like the key to your eyes as tears began to cascade down your cheeks. There was no need for him to say anything else; it was enough for you. There was no strength left in you to reciprocate his hug, but you wanted to.

Sylus slipped his hand underneath your thighs and lifted you up. Carefully trudging to the bed, he laid you down in the same place you got up, tucking a blanket over you. He got on the bed as well, pulling you closer to his grasp.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow." He stroked your cheek and placed a kiss on your eyes. "We can talk properly, and I'll apologize again," Sylus said. The same hand that touched your cheek slid down onto your shoulders, caressing it up and down.

The weariness began to settle in. The soft mattress and pillows and his warm touch.

It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, and you didn't know why you were fighting the fatigue, but Sylus' promise helped you settle down.

He doesn't go back on his words and doesn't say things he doesn't mean. You hold him up to his words.

And quietly, you drift off to sleep.

Author footnotes: I changed the writing style to a somewhat story-telling format. I hope you guys don't mind.Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[bucks-babe]

More to Love

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take care of you in every sense of the term; so what if you gain a bit of extra fat because of it?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of past relationships, kind of told in flashbacks, shitty ex boyfriend who forces reader to lose weight (not Bucky), Bucky is so in love it hurts, Bucky takes care of his woman, body insecurity, weight gain because of a healthy relationship, smut, CMNF (only for a little bit), looking in the mirror while on Bucky’s lap (yes, that needs a warning), crying during sex, daddy kink, soft!dom Bucky, so much fluff, no use of Y/N, Bucky calls reader love, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), implied creampie, Bucky loves his girl’s tummy, emotions.

A/N: This is NOT fetishizing weight gain, nor unhealthy habits. Bucky is not forcing the reader to gain weight to make her attractive to him; he loves his girl at any weight and just wants to take care of her. I made this fic because I want to feel like the parts of my body that I’m insecure about can still be desirable. Also this turned out way softer than the drabble, but there is still smut going on. Thank you to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, you have noticed how different he is compared to your previous partners. Not just because he is a 6 foot something brick house, but also in the way he treats you. You’ve never experienced such raw and untamed love directed solely at you, or the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, memorizing every quirk and tick you possess. It’s almost overwhelming how much he loves you.

Never before have you felt so comfortable in a relationship. Previous boyfriends never really felt like boyfriends, rather personal trainers. Maybe you were bad at picking them out, but your last partner was a gym rat, constantly obsessing over what he was eating and how many hours he put into the gym that week. The obsession he had for the gym followed through into your relationship. If you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be at the gym. 

He would construct fitness plans for you, saying that the softness of your stomach needed to go to make him happy, and you let him. You don’t know why you let him weasel his way into your head, but he did. Eventually, it went past the gym, and he would only allow you to go to a certain restaurant to eat because the others had way too many unhealthy options, side-eyeing you for ordering a side of fries instead of a salad. Cooking at home became a battle since you weren’t supposed to eat anything fatty or fried, nothing you did was ever good enough for him. 

Over the course of that relationship you did end up losing the extra weight you had, but also weight that you didn’t need to lose, and soon you were “too skinny” and “didn’t have enough meat on your bones for him.” He left you soon after - over text. It was something along the lines of, “I wanted to see if I could make you attractive, but you don’t look good, fat or skinny.” It crushed you. The man that you thought you were in love with, and who loved you, broke your heart. You never gained the weight back, hoping against hope that he could come back and realize he was wrong about you. He never did.

It took you a long time to get over that piece of shit, but what he said about your body never left - you were still terrified to gain weight. But then you met Bucky, and for a while you forgot about that asshole. You had the sweetest, sexiest, kindest man that you were able to call yours, so why would you even think about your past?  It started so slow you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

You groaned, stretching out in bed, arm reaching out for your boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Squinting, you try to open your eyes, sunlight forcing them to close. After a few tries, you get them open and look at the time - 7:19. Bucky must be back from his morning run. Searching the floor for his henley, you walk into the kitchen to find Bucky cutting up your favorite fruit in a bowl, shirtless. The both of you know that he can hear you walk up to him, hell he probably heard you the moment you woke up, but he humors you when you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he jumps in surprise.

“What’cha doing, honey,” you murmur into his back, peppering it with kisses.

“Makin’ something to eat after runnin’ with Steve all mornin’. Hope I didn’t wake ya up, Love.” You feel the shiver that shoots up his spine at your touch.

“No, I was just about to get up anyway, just so happens that I woke up to this sight.” 

Bucky turns only his head to look down at you, a crooked smile adorning his scruffy face, “And you can wake up to it every day. Now how about you go sit your pretty little ass down on the couch and get our show ready? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You place a chaste kiss to his cheek before slapping his ass on the way out earning a glare from him. Bucky knows that you don’t eat in the morning but he has devised a plan because you not eating in the morning will follow to you only eating at dinner tonight. 

You hear his heavy foot fall as you’re getting comfy on the couch only for him to pick you up and rest his back against the arm of the couch, setting you down in his lap, his chest to your back. He ignores your squeals and settles down. 

While you are watching your show, Bucky is watching you, and before you know it, a piece of pineapple is passing your lips. Chewing happily, you don’t even notice that Bucky has you eating until the deep rumble of ‘good girl’ is whispered in your ear. A deep throb settles in your core as you continue to eat each piece he puts in your mouth, desperate to hear his praise again and again.

That was how it started, Bucky feeding you in the mornings. But it slowly progressed from that. He was always making sure that you’ve eaten your three meals a day, no if, ands or buts. You were an Avenger after all so of course you needed to eat to stay healthy with all the missions and training you go through. Bucky noticed the pudge on your belly coming back way before you did.

“Love, what is this movie even about? I’m so confused.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss. With him against the headboard and your back resting against his chest, you couldn’t see his face. Whatever explanation you gave, Bucky didn’t hear a word of it. As you repositioned in his lap, you sat up, just a bit, but his hands on your stomach felt it, the small bit of fat soft and warm in his hands. 

To this day you have no idea why Bucky stripped off both of your clothes and pounded you for hours, but he did, and that little bit of soft flesh made him go a little crazy.

During this time you didn’t even realize that you were gaining your weight back because for the first time since you met your last boyfriend, you had so much more energy. You didn’t need extra naps throughout the day, or feel dead tired after doing absolutely nothing. Now, your body had enough nutrients to function properly, the hump of your belly was there because you were healthy. You’ve had it all your life, nothing getting rid of it. To you it made you feel like you were fat, but to Bucky, oh, it showed him that you were a strong, healthy woman.

Everyday after training, you would boast to him about how much better you’ve been doing in training, claiming Natasha said so. Of course you have always been a very capable agent, but now that you had enough fuel to support the vigorous Avenger training, you’ve been doing better than ever, and Bucky couldn’t have been more proud; however, it all came to a head when you finally caught on to your weight gain.

Fresh out of the shower, you head over to your closet. It was no special occasion but Bucky being the perfect boyfriend that he is, wanted to take you out on a date, just because. After finding Bucky’s favorite pair of lingerie and putting them on, you huff. You don’t remember the bottoms feeling so tight. You passed it off however, thinking that maybe you did something to them in the wash.

But what you couldn’t ignore was how your favorite dress wasn’t fitting. It took way too much wiggling to get it past your hips and waist. What really set you off though, was that you couldn’t zip it. Already too tight on you before zipping, now you couldn’t get the damn thing to move more than an inch. Looking in the mirror you found the reason why the zipper refused to move. The small pocket of fat on your tummy that you thought you got rid of, was back, and larger than it ever was. 

Turning to the side, you saw just how much it was coming out. You could’ve sworn you were a few months pregnant. How could you have missed this? It took a while, but you got the dress off so you could investigate the fat on your stomach. Gasping, you tried to suck in, in the hope that it would disappear. It didn’t.

Tears sprung in your eyes. How could Bucky find this attractive? Why hasn’t he said anything about this? How could you let yourself go like this? All these horrible thoughts raced through your head, before you heard Bucky’s sweet voice through the door asking if you were ready.

All of those little moments lead you to where you are now, standing in front of your mirror crying, while Bucky patiently waits on the other side of the door, thinking all is right with the world, as yours is falling apart right before your eyes. Before you can hide yourself, Bucky opens the door. Immediately, you move to cover yourself up, disgusted with the shape of your body hoping that he doesn’t look at what you can’t cover. Bucky, however, looks directly into your eyes first, seeing the pain and tears.

In two steps he reaches you and his strong arms envelop you, hands running up and down your back. “Love, what’s wrong?” You only bury your face in his chest further. He walks back to the bed, pulling you in his lap as he sits. Your naked body pressed up against his fully clothed one. Bucky’s right palm slides down your back and he tries to squeeze your waist when you jerk away from him.

“No! Don’t touch me there!” Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest at your repulsion, not understanding why you don’t want him to touch your waist. He doesn’t let you leave his lap however, keeping you in place.

“Why, Love? What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything. Look at my stomach, Buck!” You bite back another sob when he does, confusion written all over his face, not understanding what you’re trying to convey. “It’s FAT!” You all but scream, failing at trying to escape when his arms pull you down once again.

“Love…” He gets cut off by another sob falling from your lips. Instead of trying to talk you down, Bucky brings your lips to his and keeps your head in place. The only movement is the wobble of your lower lip as you try to contain your sobs. 

A few minutes pass by before Bucky can’t stand it anymore, and he tilts your head and moves his lips. The kiss tastes of your tears but neither of you care. Clawing at his back, you try to get closer to him, wanting him to consume you. 

When his hands trail down your sides, you pull away. Strong arms spin you around, naked back to clothed chest. The warm palm of his right hand forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Buc..”

“No, Love. Look at how fucking sexy you are.” With his right hand still holding your chin, his left trails down your body, stopping over the swell of your tummy. “So goddamn pretty, you know that?” He whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck, cock twitching under your ass.

He spreads his legs, forcing yours to open as well and he groans deep and long at the sight of your pussy. “God, Love, don’t you see how pretty you are, so soft and strong and all mine.” You try to pull away, the feeling of looking at yourself too much, but Bucky’s strong hands don’t let you move an inch. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how hard my cock is?”

 It’s too much, all of it. His praise, his touch, the sight of you. More tears well in your eyes and a pitiful whine leaves you. “Can’t, Bucky. I-I…” You have to close your eyes; you can't look at yourself any longer.

“Shhh, Love, you can, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. Let him show you how pretty you are. Open your eyes for Daddy.” At his request, you open your eyes, only to find his already on you. With tears still pouring from your eyes, Bucky wipes them away before laying you down on your back. 

If there was anyone who knew your limits better than yourself, it was Bucky. He knows that having you look at yourself right now would only do more harm than good, but showing you how much he loves you is a whole different story. Before laying down with you, Bucky takes his clothes off, needing to feel you against his bare skin. “I love you so fucking much, you know that? Never met a stronger,” Bucky plants a kiss on your cheek, “more beautiful,” another kiss, “smarter, sweeter, perfect woman in all my life.” 

With each kiss you can't tell if your erratic heart is slowing down or speeding up. This is such a foreign feeling for you, such unbridled love. Your head falls deeper into the pillows, Bucky’s scent enveloping all your senses, and you can’t think properly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the heedy stare Bucky is giving you.

“Daddy, I don’t, I can’t.” You don’t even know what you are trying to say, words no longer coming to you, but Bucky does, he always knows what you need.

“I know, Love. You just need Daddy to make you feel better, make you see how perfect you are for him.” Wrapping his arms around your back, he pulls you in closer to him, both of you gasping when his hard cock presses up against your naked core. Without thought, you grind your hips up, chasing the friction of his silky skin.

“All those tears, and all you wanted was Daddy’s cock, huh? Just want Daddy to fuck you dumb, turn that little brain off for you? Don’t worry, Love, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, not leaving any space between the two of you, the hard planes of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of yours.

Bucky doesn’t wait for you to beg, he can’t, not now, he needs to be inside of you, lining himself up, he pushes in, inch by perfect inch.”Shit, Love, you feel how perfect you are for me?”

Your lips part, letting a breathy whine out. Bucky doesn’t wait, slowly pulling out until only his plush tip is still inside, just to roll his hips back in. “Fuck. Look at Daddy, look at what you do to him.” It takes everything in your power to open your eyes and look at Bucky, the pleasure almost too much just after one thrust, but when you do, the sight that meets you is glorious. Face flushed, brows drawn together, lips parted, Bucky looked debauched. 

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, Bucky rolls the both of you over, with you on his lap. “Since you listen to Daddy so well, why don’t you ride his cock, let him look at his pretty girl bounce?” This snaps you out of your stupor, there’s no way you’re going to let him see your stomach jiggle.

“Bucky, I can’t, not this way. What about the other way?” You try to turn around, but his left hand grabs your waist while his right lands a harsh slap to your ass causing you to clench around him. 

“Ah, ah, ah, Daddy wants to see your face. You hear me?” Before you can complain again, Bucky thrusts his hips up, hard. You both moan, caught up in the sensation of his cock inside of you. Your hands fly to his chest, trying to balance yourself before you tumble off. Bucky doesn’t let up, thrust after thrust, pounding into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, right there, shit, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, just that you don’t want him to stop. The room is filled with the salacious sounds of your combined moans along with the clapclapclap of his thighs meeting your ass.

“So fucking good, Love, you know that? This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect. Look at this little belly jiggling while I fuck you, shit, gonna make me blow my fucking load early. You’re. So. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Each word was punctuated by a vicious thrust. Ice pours down your spine, in the midst of pleasure you completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this position. He’s fucking staring right at your belly, hands gripping at your extra fat, just watching it ripple with each brutal thrust of his hips.

“Bucky stop, don’t look there, I don’t…” The rest of your sentence gets cut off when Bucky somehow fucks you even harder, effectively making your tummy move more. It’s too much: the feral look in his eyes, the perfect angle of his cock, and his beautiful moans. Despite your best efforts, you feel your orgasm building up. The little coil hidden under the small hump of your belly pulls tighter and tighter, and Bucky can feel it. He can feel your pussy pulsing around him so he moves his hands from your belly to your hips, grinding them against his coarse hairs with sharp thrust.

It pulls tighter and tighter until it snaps, dragging you under, blood roaring through your ears. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice, “There you go, give it to Daddy. So good for me, soaking my cock. God, I fucking love you.” Bucky stops moving, giving you time to come down from your high. Still gasping for air, you fall down onto his sweaty chest, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You’re pulled out of your haze by Bucky. “Think you can give me one more? I think you can.”

He flips you over, back landing on the bed while he throws your legs over his shoulders, effectively causing your stomach to roll up, small pockets of fat pushing out. You whine, not wanting Bucky to see it, but he fucking loves this. Loves the bit of extra fat that has found its way under your chin, the soft flesh around your strong thighs, and the belly that fits perfectly in his hands. He loves it because it proves your healthy, that he’s feeding you well, well enough that you can train to your full potential, have the energy to do what you want to, not always be so tired you don’t want to do the things you love to do, that you aren’t afraid to eat what you want. That’s what he fucking loves, taking care of you and the way your body has changed has absolutely zero affect on his attraction to you. He will always think you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“Love, you don’t understand how fucking sexy you are, do you? Look at how well we fit together.” He cups the back of your head, making you look at your stomach as he enters you again, making your belly bulge more. “Do you see this, Love? See how pretty you are, and it's all for me, isn’t it?” The adoration in his eyes was almost too much, the swell in your chest threatening to burst as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his love with every stroke. Bucky wasn’t fucking you anymore, he was making love to you, showing you how much you mean to him. 

Bucky takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together, placing your hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath your softness. “Daddy, feels so good. Fuck. Love you so much.” Bucky’s hips stutter when you say you love him, it has always been his weakness, the utter devotion and vulnerability that you allow him to experience is something he will never take for granted. Tears were streaming down your face, eyes probably red and puffy. Leaning forward, Bucky places his forehead on yours, eyes locked into yours.

“I know, Love. Can’t even begin to describe how much I love you.” Bucky can feel you getting closer again, pussy clenching around him, hands scrambling to grab onto something: his hair, back, hands, sheets, you can’t decide, the pleasure coursing through you too much. “Give it to me Love, make your Daddy proud and cum on his cock. Know you want to, just let go.” With two more thrusts, your eyes roll back, another orgasm rolling through you. This one shorter than the last, but no less intense. Bucky finds his release right after, burrowing his face into your neck, holding you to him, wanting to be as close as possible. 

It takes a few minutes, but the both of you calm down, hearts returning back to normal. You’re the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. “You knew I was gaining weight, didn’t you?” With his softening cock still buried deep inside you, Bucky lifts his head up a small smirk adorning his face. 

“Of course, but this little pudge,” he grabs your tummy and almost kneads it, “is because you’re healthy. You have so much more energy recently, and I fall deeper in love with you every single time I see how fucking happy you are now. You make me so proud to be able to call myself your boyfriend. You're so beautiful and I promise you that I will spend everyday for the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You don’t have any words to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. And of course Bucky keeps true to his promise, and you believe him when he tells you that you are the most beautiful woman because he proves it to you everyday, in and outside of the bedroom.