#any fandom goes bingo

[spnbabe67]

Darling, You Look Divine

Kinktober Day 21: Body Worship (D.W.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2002

Warnings: Smut, Angst, John Winchester (Flashback), Fluff

Summary: When Tori starts to get insecure, Dean is more than happy to show his girl why she's beautiful

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Eyes Don't Lie by Isabel LaRosa

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo /Square Filled: Multiple Orgasms

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Dean knew something was off with Tori. She’d gone to take a shower after dinner while Dean was finishing up doing the dishes. When he came back to their room he found her standing in front of the mirror that he and Sam had hung up. Tori had complained about the fact that every time she wanted to see how an outfit looked, she had to go to the bathroom for the floor length mirrors in there, rather than the small one on the medicine cabinet in the room. She was standing there, gorgeous body on display, her hair still damp from her shower. Dean walked up behind her, placing his hands onto her hips as her brown eyes met his in their reflection. 

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head a yours?” Dean mumbled as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to her shoulder.

He felt her shrug, dipping her head before looking back up, catching his gaze in the mirror where he could see the glistening of tears starting to form. 

“Talk to me, Sweetheart.” Dean wrapped his arms around her middle, but hesitated as he felt her stiffen under his touch. “What’s goin’ on, Baby?”

“It’s nothing, I just,” Tori started, taking a deep breath as she placed a hand over Dean’s arms. She laughed a little, tilting her head to rest against his. “God, I feel like I’m back in high school, picking myself apart in front of a mirror.”

Dean had an inkling that’s what was bothering her. Lord knows he’s spent enough time in his years placed in front of a mirror. After coming back from Hell, he kept checking his body for all the scars he’d earned after years of hunting. But everytime Alistair and his demons broke him down to pieces, they put him back together better than he had been, including getting rid of the scars and marks from before he was sent down below. That didn��t even take into account how many times before he’d met Tori that he’d stared himself down, loathing every feature that he shared with John, loathing the hardness of his features, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes had lost the spark in them. 

He vividly remembered being plunked down in a gas station bathroom, all dingy and covered in graffiti, stinking of piss and body odor. He couldn't have been older than 12 when John had decided that his hair had grown too long. He remembered pleading with him to let him keep his hair the way it was. Remembered the sternness of his fathers voice as he grabbed the clippers and a pair of medic shears from his bag. He could still feel the tears on his cheeks as John had taken the shears to his hair, then the clippers. When he was done, Dean glanced in the mirror, and he saw his father staring back at him, only John had already left the bathroom.

“Does my girl need a reminder of how pretty she is?” Dean said softly, smoothing his hands across her belly to her hips. 

“Dean-”

“Nuh uh.” Dean cut her off, squeezing her hips. “I want you to watch yourself in the mirror, alright?”

Dean waited for Tori to nod, catching her slightly confused look in the reflection. He kissed her shoulder as he let his hands brush across her body until they landed on her belly. 

“Let’s start here, shall we?” Dean traced small shapes across her skin, circling the tip of his index finger around her belly button. He knew this was the main source of her insecurity, she’d said so before, telling him how she’d gained weight living in one spot. She was the furthest thing from fat, not that he would mind either way. Bodies change, but no matter how she looked, she’d still be his Tori. 

“This is normal. This lets me know you are well fed. It’s my job to spoil you and make sure you are taken care of. This tells me I’m doing my job right. Besides, you know how much I love to lay my head here. Speaking of which.”

He slid his hands higher, cupping her breasts. Dean heard Tori’s breath catch, saw the flush of her cheeks. “Do you know how much these drive me crazy? How much you drive me crazy? Makin’ me go crazy when you wear those tight tank tops.” Dean rolled her nipples between his fingers as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Don’t you think for one second I don’t know you’re teasin’ me when you wear them.”

Her laugh was the sweetest music to his ears, so breathy as she arched her back into his hands. He smiled into her shoulder, eyes catching hers in the mirror. Dean slid his hands back down her sides, feeling her shiver under his ministrations as one ended up on her thigh.

“And these?” Dean slid a hand along the inside of her thigh. “Don’t even get me started on these. I love the way these look in your jeans, and in those tiny shorts you know make me lose my mind. How many times these legs of yours have saved my ass, carrying me back home. So strong but so damn soft, I can’t get enough. Can’t get enough of the way they wrap around my head when I’m between ‘em”

Dean wasn’t sure Tori’s face could get any redder, her blush traveling down her neck, her breath growing shallower as he slid his hand higher and higher until he cupped her soaked core. 

“And I know you know how much I love this. Love to taste you, love how well you wrap around me. So responsive for me.” Dean pressed an open mouthed kiss to the side of Tori’s neck as he slid a finger down her center. 

She was already soaked as he ran his middle finger along her, finding her clit. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her back pressed against his chest. “Keep those eyes open for me, Sweetheart.” Dean guided. 

Tori whimpered as he toyed with her clit, finding that perfect rhythm. Dean knew just how to make her fall apart. He’d mapped her body out in his head, knew every curve, every mark, every scar like it was his own. Most of all, he knew just how to have her moaning his name. His thumb took over as he slid his middle finger into her. She was so wet his finger slid in with little resistance, her inner walls fluttering around the digit. Dean watched on as Tori’s eyes were locked onto where his hand had cupped her core, where his fingers expertly moved in and out of her. 

Dean damn near purred as Tori reached up, carding her fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He could feel her clench around his fingers as he added his ring finger, curling them upwards towards her belly. He was glad he had an arm around her waist as Tori’s legs started to shake, her hips rolling against his hand. 

“C’mon Baby. You got it. Let go for me.” Dean whispered to her. “Look how pretty you are when you cum for me.”

He cursed to himself as she clamped down on his fingers, moaning his name as she came, never taking her eyes off herself. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, panting as she came down from her high. Tori didn’t resist as Dean slid a hand under her legs, picking her up bridal style. He laid her down on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before crawling up the bed to nestle himself between her legs. Dean placed a kiss to the inside of her knee, trailing hot kisses along the softness of her inner thigh all the way back to the apex between them. 

“You’re the whole damn package, Sweetheart. So beautiful, I can’t ever take my eyes offa you. Not that I’d ever want to.” Dean nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. 

His first taste of her was heaven. Instantly her hands found their way into his hair, tugging the strands as he laved his tongue up her center. Dean quickly found her puffy clit, pulling it between his lips, gently grazing his teeth against the bundle of nerves in a way that had her thighs squeezing his head. His hand snaked around Tori’s thigh and across her hips, holding them down to the bed, keeping her from wiggling too much. Her ragged moans met his ears, even through the tight grip her thighs had around his head as his tongue worked in and out of her, his nose nudging her clit

Quickly she arrived back at that high, keening as she came on Dean’s face. Dean happily worked her through her high, tongue flicking against her clit, dipping into her molten hot core until she was practically pushing his head away from between her legs. 

Dean pulled away, licking his lips as he pushed his sweats from his legs, his cock painfully hard from the moment he’d slipped his hand between her legs. He kissed his way up her body, starting at her pubic bone, letting his tongue drag every so often as he worked from her belly to between her breasts to the hollow of her throat until he finally claimed her mouth. Tori clung to him as Dean gently pushed himself into her. He moaned lowly at the feel of her velvet walls wrapped around him. There was no resistance as he slid in and in and in. 

“Feel so good, Sweetheart.” Dean praised, smoothing a hand up her side. “Takin’ me so well.”

He started to move once she had time to adjust to him, going slow at first as he kissed down her neck, hand coming up to squeeze her thigh as he placed it on his waist. Tori felt so good beneath him, so soft and pliant, juxtaposed to the hard edges of him. She was so damn pretty. Dean felt his heart swell with affection, in pride that he could say that this gorgeous woman was all his. 

“My pretty girl.” He mumbled against her mouth as he rolled his hips into hers, going at that languid pace that he knew had her barreling towards that edge once again. “Feel so good, my pretty girl.”

Dean could feel that heat low in his hips just as Tori started to sink her nails into his arm, whispering his name to the non-existent space between them. 

“I know, Baby, I know. Me too. Let go for me.”

Dean tried his best to keep the same pace, to keep his hips from bucking wildly into her heat as her walls fluttered around him, legs shaking. Tori’s third orgasm had her cumming hard, body going tense beneath him. She clamped down hard, triggering his own release. Dean claimed her mouth, moaning into the kiss as they shared their high.

Dean eased himself down beside her on the bed, pulling her to lay atop him as their breathing slowed. He caressed the side of her face, pushing inky strands of hair behind her ear. Tori smiled sleepily at him, both of them thoroughly fucked out. Dean traced up and down her spine, letting his fingers brush along her soft olive skin. 

“Thank you.” Tori pressed a kiss to his chest as she reached up, intertwining their hands. 

“No, thank you.” Dean replied. “I’ll take any chance I can get to show my pretty girl just how divine she is.”

Dean chuckled as Tori blushed hard again, hiding her face in his chest. She giggled as she looked back up at him. “What’d I do to deserve you, huh?” 

“I should be asking you that question.” Dean ran a hand through her hair again, the touch soothing for the both of them. “With you, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Who'd You Have to Blow to Get That Part?"

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Tags: mild D/s elements, mild degradation, reference to past sexual encounters, slight daddy kink, lovers to enemies

Summary: Ransom won't let you leave the room until you agree to go out with him again.

You’ve been ignoring Ransom’s calls for a week when he finally corners you in your dressing room

“Well well well,” he simpers. “The Lyceum. You’re really making your way up from the chorus line, little girl.” You glare at him and he chuckles, doing a slow walk around your body, appraising you in a way that manages to feel both admiring and ridiculing at the same time. He plucks at the ribboned hoop of one of your panniers as he passes. “Well, la-dee-da,” he mocks. “What on earth is this? I think I like it.”

You swat at his retreating hand with a huff. “Who let you back here, Ransom?” 

“Oh didn’t you know I know everybody? The director’s an old friend. He knows I have an interest in … the theater. Said I could poke around backstage if I wanted.”

“Great. I’m sure he didn’t mean in my dressing room.”

“Your very own dressing room, by the way: how fancy.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, instead sauntering along past the couch and then over to the dressing table, feeling free to snoop around. You cringe when his fingers drag across the vanity top and land on the script you’ve left lying there. He picks it up and starts flipping through its pages. “Hmm …”

You fluster at the idea of him seeing all the notes you’ve scribbled in the margins. “Do you mind not touching my stuff?” you gripe. “Ugh.” Looking around for your robe, you spot it draped over the back of the dressing chair but realize that it won’t stretch around when you’re wearing the panniers. You huff and try to plant your hands on your hips assertively—a motion that is likewise hindered. You settle for gripping the sides of your whalebone-stiffened waist. “I don’t have time for this. Why are you here?”

“You’re one of the leads,” Ransom says, feigning impressed as he waves the packet of papers in the air. “So Daddy finally bought you a speaking part, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat, hating him with every fiber of your being. “No,” you grit, hurrying over to snatch the script from his hands and set it back on the table. “I got this part myself, you insufferable piece of shit.”

“Been practicing those blowjob skills, then?”

Your jaw works as you fight not to react. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling,” he says. “But you’re surprisingly hard to get a hold of these days.”

“Ever consider that I lost your number?”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s it.” He smirks and leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne, can see every detail of that stupid-pretty face, the hair that’s gelled and combed to perfection. He looks good, just like he always does, which only makes you hate him more. “I haven’t seen you twirling in your usual circles, bunny,” purrs. "Not since we parted ways. What’s it been now, three months?”

“Five,” you say tightly. “Though who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he teases, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll admit I’ve hardly thought of you at all, since then, but …” He’s wearing a camel-colored coat and cashmere scarf, and he reaches past said coat’s lapel to produce a single, long-stemmed rose, presenting it to you with an earnest pout. “I heard about the role. Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you, see how you’re doing.” He lets his gaze drag over your half-dressed form again, eyeing you up appreciatively. “I still think about you, you know.”

“I thought you’d hardly thought about me at all."

He looks surprised for a second, before he’s chuckling at you again with that trademark blend of affection and condescension that you wish you hated more than you do. “Oh, bunny,” he coos, nudging your chin with the rose’s fragrant bloom. “You pay attention to what I say. I always liked that about you. That’s just how you are, isn’t it? So attentive, such a good girl.” You color mightily at that, too flustered to think of a waspish response like you want to. He sees this and smirks, dragging the rose’s velvet petals over your lips and humming in satisfaction when you hastily snatch it from his hand. “There we go,” he praises softly. “Pretty flower for a pretty girl. Though I worry how you’re doing when you don’t turn up in public for months on end.”

You force a prim smile. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to worry about me, or bring me gifts.” You turn around and stick the rose into a nearby vase, which already has a number of similar blossoms in it. Ransom’s is the biggest and freshest, but you rearrange it into the middle of the pack so that it doesn’t stand out as much. “And I’m doing just fine, if you really want to know.”

“Are you, though?” he presses. He steps closer, close enough that the frame of the panniers presses against his pants, and it’s easy for him to reach up and finger the strap of your stays. “I seem to remember you being quite the social butterfly.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

“You’ve missed the last several big events of the season, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not like you to play the shut-in.” He traces the strap from your shoulder, down to the top of the busk. You see his blond eyelashes lower onto his smug fucking cheeks as he shamelessly leers at the swell of your breasts, his fingers hovering just over the skin. “Who’re you supposed to be?” he asks. “Marie Antoinette?”

You scoff and push past him. “Unlike you, I get busy. I actually work for a living. And yes, that sometimes means that frivolous parties aren’t my number one engagement. So if you’ll excuse me.” You’re supposed to be over in wardrobe, getting fitted for your costumes. Danielle is probably already waiting for you. But Ransom blocks the door when you try to leave, and he does nothing to disguise the way he looks at your body when you stand back to regard him with another huff. “Ransom, move.”

“You should wear corsets more often,” he drawls, ignoring your protests entirely. “It actually makes your waist look tiny.”

You glare at him and try to move around him to grab the door handle, but he leans back against it so that you can’t pull it open. He grins, eyes raking over you from head to toe. You fight not to squirm, feeling more ridiculous than anything else, decked out as you are in your eighteenth century reproduction undergarments. You sigh and stand back, frustrated at how goddamn entitled he is. “What do you want?” you ask, knowing that he wouldn’t be here bugging you right now if he didn’t want something. 

“I want to give us another try,” he says. 

You wait for the punchline, or for him to crack a mean smile and laugh at how gullible you are, but neither happens and you’re left standing there blinking at him like a dummy, heart in your throat. “What?” 

“You heard me.” He pushes off from the door and stares you down as he steps up close. He cups your face in a palm that’s soft from never having seen a day of work in its life. You have to fight not to press your cheek into it, and of course he notices, the overconfident prick. “I think we called things off too soon,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”

“‘We’? You’re the one who ended it.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Hhhm, did I though?”

“Yes.”

“Ehh, I don’t know if I remember it that way.”

You purse your lips. “I said I wanted to be exclusive, and you called me clingy.”

“Well that’s hardly ‘ending’ things …”

You scoff. “You said my pussy wasn’t ‘anything to write home about’ and left me at the restaurant.”

“Hmm. Well … maybe I was too hasty.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Hasty’.” More like genetically predisposed to assholery, you think.

“Hey, I mean it.” He grabs you when you try to move around him, holding you still by your upper arms.

“Let me go.”

“Maybe I never gave things between us a real chance, bunny” he says, trying to ply you with his words and sheer proximity. “That’s what I’ve been thinking these past months. That I let you go too soon, didn’t think things through. That I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“More like your dick,” you mutter, but he ignores you. 

“After all, we had good times together, didn’t we? And you always look amazing on my arm, and the sex was soo …” he trails off, letting his fingers trace your skin. His mouth twitches when he notices your breathing picking up, your chest heaving visibly against the front of the stays. “Come on, princess. Just think about it,” he coaxes, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “You and I fit so well together. Don’t you remember how it was?”

You shiver instinctively, body reacting to the words he’s murmuring so intimately against you, to the way he’s touching you like he owns you. “Ransom,” you breathe. “I don’t—”

“I miss you, you know. I do. In my life, in my bed. I don’t like waking up alone.”

You ignore the flutter in your belly at hearing him admit that, and force yourself to shrug his hands away. “Well that would be your problem, not mine,” you say. He’s not good for you, and letting him bust in like this and insinuate himself back into your life will only lead to disappointment at best, heartbreak at worst. “Excuse me,” you grit when he walks backwards to block the door again. So fucking entitled. “Seriously, Ransom. I have somewhere to be!”

“I don’t really care. We’re not finished here,” he growls, eyes losing their charming sheen. “You can leave when I’m done talking to you.”

Your core clenches at those domineering words, and you have to square your jaw before you can bring yourself to insist, “Ransom, get out of the way. I’m warning you …”

“No, I’m warning you,” he says darkly, grabbing your arm and yanking you in hard against him. You gasp and catch yourself with a hand against his chest, but he keeps you off balance as his other arm scoops in behind you and holds you tight to him by your lower back. “Mmm, I like this,” he purrs, fingers finding the laces of your stays and grabbing onto them. He grabs you by the back of your neck with one hand while he tugs at the laces with the other. “Makes a nice handle. Good for moving you where I want you.”

“Get your hands off me.”

He tugs the laces again, jostling you forcefully. “Thought you liked it when I handle you.”

“What I’d like is for you to let me go,” you grit. 

But he only narrows his eyes and sticks his face closer in yours. When he speaks, his breath fans out warm against your lips. “You’re confused, bunny. I should bend you over that vanity and remind you just how much you like it.”

To your shame, his manhandling and his domineering words turn you on, and you know he can tell—he can always tell what he does to you. That’s part of what makes him so infuriating, and so dangerous. “Let go of me,” you say lowly, surprised (and disappointed) when he actually listens, his hands releasing you so suddenly that you stumble back a step in your heels. His eyes bore into you slyly as you huff and right yourself. “What is your problem?!” you fume at him. 

“Come with me to the Governor’s Ball,” he demands, confident and cocky as always, as if the past few minutes and your numerous refusals haven’t even happened. “You have an invitation, I presume?”

You glower at him. “Of course I do, you twat.” Given that your father is the Governor, it’d be odd indeed if you didn’t have an invite. “Awful presumptuous of you that I don’t have plans to go with somebody else,” you snap. “After the way you treated me? I wouldn’t take you as my date to a dive bar.”

He chuckles, and it’s in that low, self-assured way that drives you absolutely bonkers and makes you feel like a “pick me” girl all at the same time. “Oh, bunny. You think I don’t know you better than that?”

You shoulder your way around him to yank open the door. “You don’t know me at all, jerk.” 

You inhale sharply when his hand clamps around your wrist and he shoves into you from behind suddenly, pressing you up against the door and slamming it shut with your combined bodyweight. “I know you better than any man alive, princess,” he hisses, grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your cheekbone in gentle counterpoint when you gasp at his audacity. “Shhh shsh,” he hushes. “Don’t worry, now. You’ll have an excellent time, I promise. Now, you go get fitted for your little costume, and I’ll send a car to pick you up Saturday evening. Say nine o’clock?”

You huff, flustered by what an utterly presumptuous asshole he is (and by the way your cunt is clenching on nothing, being pressed up against a surface full-body by him like this). “You know what your problem is, Ransom?”

He drags his nose across your cheek with a chuckle. “What’s that, bunny?”

You can’t get as much leverage as you’d like, pressed up against the door the way you are, but you do your best and jab back into his solar plexus. And his shocked, breathless grunt is a satisfying indicator that your elbow has met its mark. You turn around and take his face between your hands to peck a kiss of your own to his cheek. “It’s that people’ve been paid to make you think you’re better than you are your whole life,” you whisper sweetly. You kiss his cheek and then let him go, leaving the room before he can regain his breath.

Masterlist

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This has been a fill for:

AFG Dark bingo @anyfandomgoesbingo @anyfandomdarkbingo

Card: sarahyellow/sarah-writes-stucky

Square B3: "Lovers to enemies"

@badthingshappenbingo

Card: sarahyellow/sarah-writes-stucky

Square I5: "thwarted escape"

@blackhawkfanatic

[felidlycanthr0pe]

Beach Day

Bingo Masterlist

Pairing: Touya Todoroki/Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 1121

Warnings: reader referred to as 'mother'

Summary: Pro Hero Touya Todoroki is in vacation mode.

A/N: Created for @anyfandomfluffbingo / Square(s) Filled: "My parents love you."

Again, this will be cross posted on AO3 shortly just bear with me! Hope y'all like :)

“Touya, be careful!”

Two pairs of wide, icy blue eyes stared back at you from afar. Touya, who seemed not to have heard the second half of your sentence, simply smiled widely and waved at you with his free hand. You know, the one that wasn’t dangling a ten month old over the shoreline.

Asuka babbled in his arm, and Touya adjusted his hold so only her feet were dangling- just barely above the waterline. Her tiny toes curled the instant they touched the wave that lapped at her feet. She cried and leaned back, trying to get away from the icy cold water. 

You stood from the tide chair, kneeling beside Asuka. You smiled at her, dragging a finger through the water. “Poor sweet thing, is daddy torturing you?” With your quirk activated, you drew out her name in glowing letters as the tide slipped away once more. 

“Oh, so mean. Such a mean daddy trying to make it so you’re not scared of the ocean at seventeen,” Touya said in a high pitched voice. “How dare I do such a thing?”

You rolled your eyes. “I swear I saw something in the water.” 

Touya hummed, sitting at the water’s edge with Asuka in his lap. “You keep telling yourself that, Dove. Whatever helps you sleep at night. But I read a book about how early exposure can help dissuade fear of natural elements with positive reinforcement.”

Your gaze slid sideways to where your eldest was currently wading in waist deep water. She was staring down the horizon over her shoulder, foam boogie board under her chest as she prepared for “the right wave.” Touya had explained this as “just enough of a point to have some foam at the top, but not too much.” 

“Seems to be working fine,” you assured him with a hum. “Kaisei’s got that look in her eye like with judo- she’s gonna be pissed on the last day.”

Touya leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “She’ll be fine. Kids bounce back easy.”

“You know you’re gonna have to listen to the temper tantrum on the drive home as well,” you said with a smirk. 

“Watch this,” he whispered, just barely above the roar of the ocean ahead of you. “Kaisei!”

Kaisei’s head whipped toward you, and she waved over a gap toothed smile. 

“Can you show us what you learned earlier?”

In response, Kaisei pouted, sinking below the surface of the water as she barely held onto the edge of her board. She resurfaced and yelled back. “There’s no stupid waves!”

“Call us when you find one,” you responded. “And move a little closer- you’re getting pulled away!”

A brief moment of panic later, and Kaisei had bounced her way back to your side. She tilted her head and watched the three of you carefully. “Can Asuka boogie board?”

“Let’s wait til she can walk, m’kay?” Touya smiled, “make sure you stay where we can see you.”

Kaisei bounded back into the water- this time directly in front of you- as she called over her shoulder, “okay!” 

“I’m trying to keep her feet out of the sand,” Touya sighed. “But I also wanted to get her into the water. But the sand. But the water, and I-” 

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. You glanced up at him, sitting in the water cross legged. “Give her here.”

Touya pouted. “But I wanna do it.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, fine. Just…sit.” Patting the water beside you, you tilted your head back at him. 

Carefully, he held Asuka out in front of him and slumped to the ground beside you. Asuka whined in his arms as the cold water was suddenly unavoidable, even with her squirming. 

“Now she’s got the feeling of it without having to sit on the sand,” you explained. “Just gotta keep her in your lap.”

Touya seemed much more tense now than before. This was the hero who had faced Muscular with a smile? It was looking less and less likely.

“Feels weird,” he muttered, “like I’m sinking.” 

“Yes, sand will do that, baby,” you smiled. “Shocking.”

“Well, pardon me if we don’t all have parents who have timeshares and can go to a beach whenever we so choose,” Touya snarked, gaze sliding to you for a moment. He stuck his tongue out at you. 

“The whole point of a timeshare is only being able to go certain times, baby,” you replied. “And again- it’s recent.”

“Hmm, a likely story,” he sighed as he crossed an arm over Asuka’s torso. “You know I’m just with you for your money, obviously.”

“Yeah, mhm, keep telling yourself that,” you shot back. “What is it that Shouto called you last time?”

“Oh, god forbid I’m a simp for the mother of my children and love of my life, how dare I?” Touya grinned. “Still don’t really know what he meant by that, frankly.” 

“It’s a mean way of saying that you’d do anything for me,” you explained, “which clearly means you’re in it for the money. If you’re willing to do anything.”

Asuka babbled, patting Touya on the head as she tried to keep her feet underneath her as the waves pushed and pulled you. 

“And how dare I not pay attention to you for two seconds, little lady?” He grinned. “Hmm? Are the in-laws right? I can’t stay focused? Can’t stay put?” 

You rolled your eyes. “You know they’re just grilling you, right? My parents love you. I think if we hadn’t gotten married they might’ve like…adult adopted you or something.”

“Ew, no don’t make me think about that,” Touya laughed. “Though it’s nice to hear they mean well…they’re right. I want…more. Like this, I mean.” He smiled at Kaisei before turning back to Asuka. “More firsts. I missed too many with Kaisei.”

You pressed your lips together, barely holding back a smile. The same soft look Touya was watching Asuka’s babbling rant had been plastered across his face since the moment he took his hero costume off last week.

“Whatever you wanna do, baby,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You know I’ll follow you wherever the spotlight takes you.”

Touya hummed, kissing the crown of your head. “Hey Kai! There’s one over there!” He shuffled Asuka to your arms, rocking to his feet and bounding into the water. 

Asuka had taken to stomping on the waves as they rolled up to her ankles and up to your waist. You held her steady, watching over her shoulder as Touya held Kaisei’s board steady as she laid in the water waiting. There were few things you could think of wanting any more than to stay right there. 

[idabbleincrazy]

Revelation

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: M

Pairing: Clark/Lex

Word Count: 3010

Warnings: s4 au, crossdressing, corsets, Lex learns the truth, reconciliation, hurt/comfort

Summary: Lex comes to talk things out, and learns Clark has more secrets than he thought.

A/N: prompted by @leatafandom May become a two-parter. Set somewhere before Devoted.

Squares Filled: Boy Next Door, Lying/Betrayal/Secrets/Omission/Exclusion, Coming Out, Lingerie/Garters/Crotchless Panties/Corset/Stockings/Only a Large Shirt ( @julybreakbingo ), "Collect and treasure every memory, and never count the cost" ( @fandombingo - Wonderland Bingo), Corset ( @fandom-free-bingo ), Estrangement ( @hurtcomfort-bingo ),

Coming Out ( @anyfandomgoesbingo ), Coming Out ( @lgbtqbingo )

Lex wasn't sure why he was even here. Well, he was, but he wasn't being that honest with himself at the moment, so no, he didn't know why he was pulling his car to a quiet stop along the dirt path that led to the Kent's barn. He also didn't know why he got out of the car with more than a little trepidation, keeping his steps silent, not wanting to alert the young man he knew would be up in the loft of the old rust red barn he was walking towards to his presence, allowing him a chance to pull off one of those infamous disappearing acts that never actually happened. 

His relationship with Clark had been the dizziest of rollercoasters ever since the summer they'd both gone missing; one by betrayal, one by choice. They'd come back to this quaint, not-so-quiet town and found each other again, their friendship right back where they'd left it; at first. But slowly, deeper secrets and deepened trust issues had worked their way between them, culminating in the discovery of one secret that never should have existed in the first place. 

He hadn't been able to get Clark to speak to him since he'd found out about the room that was and wasn't about him. Three long, miserable months since Clark had shown up at the courthouse and pushed past him without a word, testimony given and gone in the blink of an eye. Three months of realization that life was never so desolate as when the light that followed Clark Kent around was refused to him. 

And so, here he was, trying one last time to reach out, to stand and bask in the effulgence that was a teenaged Kansan farm boy, and hope he would be able to give a good enough apology to no longer be denied the shining beacon that made his life a little less dismal. He didn't care about what Clark was hiding from him anymore, didn't care if the young brunette was a mutant, or something more, or just a normal boy who just so happened to be a little more heroic than the average teen. He just wanted him. However much of him he could get. 

He kept his steps quiet even as he trudged up the stairs ro Clark's Fortress of Solitude, taking care to avoid the creaky step halfway up. Reaching the top, he was glad he had. Otherwise, he never would have learned this secret.

Standing at the top of the steps, Lex had to stifle the gasp of surprise that filled his throat as he looked across the loft, sure that the moonlight streaking in through the open window was causing his eyes to play tricks on him. Surely, Clark Kent was not standing at the other end of the loft, in front of a full length mirror, shirtless. In leather pants. And holding a red and black corset to his chest. 

Blinking, waiting - and dreading - for the image to disappear, he watched Clark wrap the leather corset around himself, muscles straining as he tried to tighten the stays. The image never vanished, and after a minute of watching the impossibly erotic struggle, Lex took pity, brushing aside all the why's and how's, and took a step further into the loft. 

"Need some help?"

Clark yelped in shock, dropping the corset as he whirled around to face the unexpected intruder into his sacred space.

"Lex! Wha-what are you doing here?" His voice was caught somewhere between fear, fury, embarrassment, and indignation, fluctuating from squeaky to gravely and back again. Lex watched his foot out of the corner of his eye as it tried to kick the now offensive garment into the shadows of the room. "Why are you here?"

"Well, you haven't been answering my calls, texts, or emails, Clark, and I figured you probably wouldn't appreciate me giving the town gossips more fodder, so I decided to cancel the skywriting. If Mohammed won't go to the mountain…" Lex trailed off with a shrug, trying to keep his face blank of the arousal he felt coursing through him, thickening his cock. He nodded his head at the pile of fabric on the floor. "Your secret's safe, by the way."

There was enough light in the room to see the deep blush that darkened Clark's golden skin, the flush traveling enticingly from his cheeks to his neck, and down over his chest. Lex's eyes followed the rise of color, down over the expanse of exposed skin, gaze soon distracted by the reminder of the existence of leather pants, fabric stretched so tight across broad thighs they looked like they were painted on. His brain didn't know what to do with the fact that the groin area was bulging slightly out, and so simply refused to acknowledge it. 

Apparently angered by his own reaction to Lex's soft comfort, Clark let out a snort of derision. 

"Yeah, right. Safe. Where is it safe, Lex? In your private little stalker room?" Clark stepped forward, hands clenching into tight fists at his sides, and Lex couldn't help a shiver, of fear, of arousal, not when the evidence of all those surmised muscles were actually bared to his sight. "Gonna take a picture, Lex? Add it to your collection of me? Bet it would make a nice addition to that digital scrapbook you've got going. Or, wait, maybe you could take the corset with you, put it on display front and center, next to that bullet-mobile."

Lex pinched the bridge of his nose, his erection still not deflating despite the beginnings of a headache. This was exactly what he didn't want. He came here to make amends, not start the same argument all over again. 

"Clark, please, just stop and listen." Lex chanced a glance up at Clark's face, letting out a sigh of relief as the brunette heaved a breath but remained silent. The fact that Lex hardly ever used the word please must've given the young man pause, as Lex could see how badly Clark wanted to continue his - somewhat justified - rant. "I didn't come here to argue. I came to give you the explanation you wouldn't give me the chance to voice that day. Look, I get how that room could be taken as an invasion of privacy. I do. But I wasn't lying when I said that room was more about me than anything else."

Unable to just stand there anymore, Lex stepped away from the top of the stairs and carefully sat down on the tattered couch, turning his body to an angle that would hopefully diminish the obviousness of the tenting of his slacks. Clark turned, but didn't step any closer to him, chest heaving out breaths like a well-run horse, no doubt restraining a desire to grab Lex by the throat and toss him from the loft window. 

"Clark, ever since you first rescued me, I've been given so many second chances. I…I just want…I need to know why. And yes, so much of what has happened to me during my time here in Smallville has circled around you, but I can't help that. It's also centered around Chloe, and Lana, and Pete-"

"But none of their pictures are up on those walls, Lex. None of them. Just me, and my parents."

"Nobody's picture is up on those walls now, Clark. It's all gone. Except for the Porsche, compressed into a clump of twisted metal. It's the only reminder I've allowed myself to keep."

That brought Clark up short, his head cocking back, eyes narrowing in suspicious confusion. 

"Why? Why get rid of it all now?"

"Because I realized it wasn't worth it. None of it. The questions, the answers. None of it matters if it costs me the best friend, the only real friend, I've ever had." Lex turned back towards Clark, no longer caring if the brunette witnessed the truth his body revealed. "I'm a Luthor, Clark. Boundaries were always things to be crossed, not heeded, I never fully comprehended what I was putting at risk by satisfying my curiosity. I didn't realize what was at stake."

"Collect and treasure every memory, and never count the cost."

"Have we gone down the rabbit hole, Clark?"

"I think you've finally pulled yourself out of it." Clark heaved a gusty sigh, turning back towards the mirror, and Lex watched his reflection as green eyes fell closed. "I don't want to fight anymore, Lex. I don't want to hold onto that anger. I've missed you, these last few months, but I just don't…I don't know if I can trust you, Lex, not after that. And now, this."

"I meant what I said, Clark. Your secret's safe. All of them. Even the ones I don't know."

Clark's head hung down, chin against his chest, and Lex watched a shudder run through the broad frame. He stood and silently stepped up behind him, gulping down his nerves when Clark tensed, inexplicably alerted to his presence.

"I'm still a curious man, though, Clark. It's just my nature. And, I can't help but wonder about this new mystery." 

"Why don't you sound disgusted?" Clark's eyes opened and met his in the mirror, emeralds shimmering with unshed fearful tears.

"Should I be?" Lex reached out and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder, unable to stop his eyes from fluttering at the feel of warm, golden skin beneath his fingers. "Clark, it's nothing to be ashamed of, it's just unexpected, that's all. You know, Achilles disguised himself as a woman to try to circumvent a prophecy; Joan of Arc dressed in men's clothes just to make life simpler and for better protection in battle. It's not like you're the first person, nor the last, to wear clothes designated to the opposite gender. It's not disgusting, Clark; quite the opposite. I'm sure you look just as stunning in a corset as you do in a t-shirt and jeans."

Lex waited for the last bit of his consolation to sink in, nervous as to how Clark would react. Plenty of men and women crossdressed without even a smattering of attraction to the same sex, simply wearing what they felt good in, what made them feel like themselves. Ed Wood wore angora, but never once sought out the sexual companionship of another man. Clark could still very much be straight. 

"Lex?" 

Confusion and unsurety shone in Clark's eyes, a glint of hope peeking out behind them. Lex took pity once more and bent down to pick up the discarded pile of silk and lace. 

"I'll help you into this, if you tell me when this started."

Clark watched Lex straighten from his bend, calculating. Lex kept silent, trying to keep his heart from thumping out of his chest as he awaited an answer. 

It came in the form of Clark lifting his arms out from his sides, peridot eyes slipping closed once more with a stuttered sigh.

"How long, Clark?" 

"Since Metropolis." The words were quiet, barely discernible. Lex stepped closer and reached around Clark with the corset in one hand, the other looping around his other side to catch the fabric and wrap around his torso, slipping the silky contraption into place from just beneath his armpits down to just above the waistband of his leather pants. Clark's hands lowered to spread flat along his waist, holding the corset in place for Lex to work the stays. "I found out a lot about myself that summer. I was at a club, one night, and I dunno, it just kinda happened. I don't really like talking about those months."

Lex looked up from where his fingers were threading thin silk ribbon in and out of eyelets, catching the grimace on Clark's face.

"I know what you mean. Wasn't exactly my best summer vacation, either." 

Clark's eyes opened and met Lex's in the mirror, grimace softening into sympathy, green and blue sharing their pain. Clark swallowed hard, and Lex watched the movement of his Adam's apple over his shoulder, his cock still painful against his zipper. 

"This, though…this just…felt right. I-I can't…I don't know how to explain it."

"I understand, Clark." Lex wrenched his gaze away from the mirror, refocusing on lacing up the corset. Once he finished threading the laces, he adjusted the corset, making sure the supporting cups and boning were aligned properly to maximize the intended result once the corset was tightened. He could already see how the garment would turn Clark's pectorals into the perfect illusion of breasts. He had to swallow before speaking. "How tight? I don't want to cause you discomfort."

Clark looked back at him in the mirror, his gaze startlingly open. 

"You can't hurt me, Lex. Not physically, anyway. But I think you already know that."

Lex nodded, once, and focused his attention back on the laces, picking them back up, one in each hand, and wrapping the sturdy ribbon around his fingers for leverage. Clark leaned forward and braced his hands against the wall as Lex began to tug. For all of Clark's apparent resilience, Lex was surprised to see his torso conforming to the reworked shaping of the corset as it pulled his waist in. 

Lex continued tightening the laces until the boning tapered down to just above each leather covered buttock, and tied the ribbons into a neat bow at the small of Clark's back. Clark straightened up, took a breath, and turned around to face him, eyes downcast. 

"Told you you'd look stunning."

Clark's gaze shot up from the floor, lips twitching in a small, shy smile. 

"Yeah?"

"Clark, you could wear an empty feed sack and still outshine Heidi Klum. You're…" Lex bit his tongue, afraid to confess too much, too soon. 

But Clark, apparently, wasn't going to let that go.

"I'm what, Lex?"

Lex looked him over again, from the way his chest heaved beneath the sturdy fabric, cleavage created from the ample muscle mass, to his waist, now so narrow that even Lex's smaller hands could span the breadth of it, thumbnail to thumbnail at his navel, and curl around the sides of his manipulated torso. He'd always found the sheer bulk of the younger man to be a comforting thing, something that could keep him safe; now, despite those still brawny shoulders, and bulging biceps, he felt the opposite. This was someone he needed to protect. Someone so fragile, so insecure and vulnerable. He yearned to pull Clark into his embrace, to turn him to face the mirror once more and show him how amazing he was, how…

"Beautiful. You're beautiful, Clark." Lex stepped closer to Clark, hand reaching up to his face, palm flat against a warm cheek. Amazed and encouraged that Clark did flinch back at the touch, he let his fingers creep upwards, brushing through silky bangs that were longer than they had been that awful day. "You're really not quite the boy next door that everyone thinks you are, are you?"

Clark closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, his lips turning down into a slight frown.

"I…I'm not quite human, Lex."

The words were uttered so softly, Lex wasn't sure he'd really heard them. His fingers paused in their stroking for a fraction of a second before he recovered, locking away any of his typical reactions to such a discovery of truth. This was Clark. And no matter how badly he wanted Clark's secrets, he would always want Clark more. He waited for Clark to continue on his own, unwilling to push and break this fragile moment between them. 

"Lex?"

"Hmm?"

Clark's eyes opened, sparkling and wary and so very, very young. Lex wanted to clutch the boy to him and soothe away all that fear and uncertainty.

"Did…did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes. Not quite human. So? You're far from the only meteor mutant in town. You're not even the only meteor mutant in this barn."

Clark pulled out of reach of Lex's fingers, face screwed up in a grimace again. The brunette began trembling, looking so much less than his seventeen years.

"No, Lex, that's not what I meant. I'm not a mutant, either. Lex, I-I'm an…I'm an alien!"

Lex kept his face schooled, and slowly stepped back up to Clark, taking hold of his hands, his thumbs brushing over warm, soft skin in an attempt to comfort him. 

"I had my suspicions, when I found that octagonal disk, but I wrote it off as improbable when there was nothing more conclusive. Thank you, Clark. Thank you for telling me." 

"How can you be so calm about this?! I just told you I'm from another planet, and you're thanking me?"

"Clark, I didn't come here tonight for your secret. I came because I needed to get my best friend back. After everything I've seen since I've come to Smallville, after everything we've been through, is it really such a huge leap from meteor mutant to alien? I'm more shocked that you've finally decided to trust me than to learn that you're from another planet."

Clark stared at Lex, eyes wide with surprise at how the older man was taking the revelation. Four years of worry and fear about what Lex might do if he ever learned about what Clark was, and he hadn't even cracked through that businessman façade. Lex had shown more surprise over the corset, and even that had only rattled him the smallest bit. Clark's heart sped as he took in the whole of the man before him, the way he had accepted the crossdressing, the way he just rolled with it when Clark told him the one answer Lex had been searching for all this time, his thumbs still rubbing soothing circles on the backs of his hands. He could always tell when Lex was being less than truthful with him, and all he saw now was open honesty. Without really thinking about it, Clark leaned in towards the slightly shorter man, and pressed his lips to Lex's.

~~~~~~

@leatafandom

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Chapter Twelve - "If You Want to Know How Much I Love You, Count All the Waves in the Sea."

It's the final chapter ;-;

Everyone's favourite Pretty Ship Boys celebrate their freedom. CW: Smut, in varying degrees of BDSM-ish-ness.

Prompts used (contains spoilers); - ‘Fucking Like Rabbits’, ‘Marathon Sex’, ‘Caught Fucking’ - @anyfandomgoesbingo (Kink); - ‘Heavy Bondage’, ‘Forced Orgasm’ – Any Fandom Goes Bingo (Dark); - ‘Kink: Tentacles’ – @buckybarnesbingo (B005); - ‘Fingered to Orgasm in a Public Space’ – @fandombingo ; - ‘Shibari’, ‘Breeding Kink’, ‘Caught Masturbating’ - @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Sleepy Sex’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition);

- ‘5 Times They Have Sex Together & 1 Time They Get Caught’ – @julybreakbingo (4x4); - ‘Blindfolded or Gagged’, ‘Bruises or Hickeys’, ‘Kink: Lazy Sex’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Bondage Art’, ‘Dom Drop’ – Kinky Things Happen Bingo (discontinued); - ‘Culture: Public Displays of Affection’ – @multifandom-flash Bingo (Taboo – 6045); - ‘Orgasmically Delicious’ – Multifandom Flash Mini Bingo( Thanksgiving – 7023); - ‘Somnophilia’ – Multifandom Flash – New Year – NSFW; - ‘Tentacled Terror’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo – World Oceans Day – Aquatic Animal; - ‘Walk the Plank’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo – World Oceans Day – Extra +1; - ‘Underwater Kiss’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo – World Oceans Day – Mer; - ‘Kink: Fingering After Sex’ – Pre-July Break Flash Bingo; - ‘Skinny Dip’ – @sweetspicybingo (Sweetheart); Check it out below, or on AO3 here! All below the cut because all the smut. Boards at the end!

One.

The morning after my Lieutenant made sweet, beautiful love to me, I stirred and stretched out muscles stiffened by deep sleep. The motion of my hips at the movement brought a sudden awareness of the cock still inside me, twitching and filling as the man behind me stirred.

He let out a soft sigh, arm curling tighter around my waist as he shifted automatically. “Mm, morning…” he breathed, burying his face in my throat. With a contented purr, I tipped my head to ease his access, pressing back against him.

“Hey, Sailor,” I hummed, one hand reaching back to knot in his hair. The mouth on my neck moved harder, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin, and I let out a quiet groan as his hips shifted once me, his length beginning to stretch me out as he grew harder. “Fuck, that feels good…”

He grunted happily, his hand snaking between my legs to caress my clit, light and lazy. “Just enjoy, my sweet, sleepy boy… I’ve got you.”

I nodded and sighed contentedly, relishing in his gentle movements, the way he rocked against me causing stars to spark behind my eyes. “God, yes… You make me feel so good, Gregor…” I murmured, holding on a little tighter, legs inching apart. The way he unmade me, with such care and attention, brought tears to my eyes, my fingers curling in the sheets as I came undone. It seemed almost effortless, the manner with which he made me dissolve, his hips moving slowly but firmly against me.

I was already trembling once more by the time his pace began to increase, and a quiet groan escaped me as he whined and tried to move me back nearer. His eyes widened in surprise as I straddled his hips, whimpering in pleasure as he re-entered me.

“You’re so hot,” he breathed, hands finding my hips as I rutted eagerly, his head falling back. “Fuck – you take it so goddamn well, baby boy, already riding that cock like a pro…”

I moaned breathlessly, the angle offering a new, deeper reach that had my eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh, God, that’s- fuck, th-that’s-”

His grip shifted to my ribs, pulling me down against his chest to kiss me deeply. “That good, sweetheart?” he breathed, hips pressing up to meet mine. “Enjoying that thick cock buried so fucking deep in your tight pussy, beautiful?”

I mewled uselessly, burying my face in his throat, nipping and licking with a desperate need to bring him as much pleasure as he brought to me. “Please – God, yes, so good, so deep, I can’t- I’m going to come, Captain, please, pl-” My words died amongst a rapturous moan as he snapped his hips up roughly. He’d only been gentle with me until now, sweetly making love to me with cautious movement.

But now his fingers dug into the soft skin of my back, fucking up into me with fierce, wordless need, grunts of pleasure falling readily. As my muscles tensed and I met his thrusts with my own spasmodic movements, crying out frantically as he sent me hurtling into the abyss.

He growled aloud with the effort of restraining himself until my quivering began to subside, only then allowing himself to bury himself inside me with a deafening groan, frantic hands grasping at me.

It wasn’t until his cock had finished twitching inside me that he finally fell still, panting and clutching me desperately against his chest. “You’ll be the death of me, sweet boy,” he whispered breathlessly, pressing a trembling kiss to my sweat-damp temple. “But it’s a death I’ll go to gladly, and with a smile on my face.”

Two.

It took two weeks of tender, mind-blowing lovemaking, each adoring rock of his hips matched by the mellow motions of the ship on a calm sea, for Greg’s bullet wound to heal enough for him to exercise a little more.

Watching my lover haul on ropes with a broad grin plastered across his face,  sun-kissed skin taut over straining muscles, had my chest aching with love. He was truly in his element once more – and I’d never found him more beautiful. I had every intention of showing him exactly how much I wanted him once our day was over; the return to duty took its toll, however, and he was asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, lips curled up at the edges and parted in soft, breathy snores. I could only grin to myself, fingertips delicately caressing the bare skin over his spine as he tucked himself further into my side, cheek pressed to my bare chest, purring with unconscious contentment.

The feeling of him nuzzled up against me, happy and resting easily, was enough to drag me into a heavy sleep of my own. When I woke to the gentle rocking of the ship, he was still unconsciously burrowed into my side, getting some well-deserved rest. I smoothed his hair adoringly, smiling when he let out a gentle, contented sigh and pressed closer.

The movement made me starkly aware the length digging into my hip ad leaking against the thin cotton covering, dampening my own boxers. I paused only briefly as my eyes flicked to his face, checking for any sign of impending consciousness and smiling when I found none. Moving with slow, cautious gestures, I inched away from him and down the bed, the absence of my body against his leading him to roll onto his back. The outline of his hard cock stood at attention had my mouth watering and the space between my thighs throbbing with desire as I knelt between his legs, carefully peeling down his boxers to reveal his thick, engorged length to my ravenous gaze.

My eyes shifted to his peaceful expression once more before I shimmied closer, delicately running the tip of my tongue along the underside of his cock as it twitched under my attention. A soft, low whine sounded overhead as I took his length between my lips, sucking lightly and purring at the taste of him on my tongue.

It wasn’t until a third of his cock was in my mouth and my head was bobbing, smooth and slow, that he began to stir, letting out first a sleepy, aroused moan, then a second, shocked and eager, as his hand found my hair and he thrusted weakly.

“Holy f- God- Guh-Good morning to you too, Snowflake,” my Captain stammered, one eye opening to gaze down at me as my tongue swirled around his cock, cheeks hollowing from the effort as I sucked on his length a little harder. “Fuck, a hell of a way to start the day, sweet boy… My God, I love that mouth, you feel so fucking good…”

With a soft hum of happiness, I buried him a little deeper, letting his tip brush the back of my throat and eliciting a sharp groan from my lover.

When I drew back infinitesimally, he whined through his teeth, attempting to pull me closer until my fingers closed around his wrist, holding him off until I could release his cock and fix him with a level stare. “I’ll be back to it in a moment, my love,” I murmured, trailing soft, gentle kisses along his length. He let out a quiet whimper of protest, but dutifully ceased his tugging on my hair, letting his hand fall to the bed with a frustrated thump. Watching me carefully as I moved, his gaze finally lit up with understanding as I settled a knee either side of his head.

Immediately, his tongue strained to meet me, skimming over my slick folds as his arms wrapped around my thighs, attempting to drag me closer and groaning in frustration when I held steady. “Please- fuck, fuck, please, baby- please, my baby boy, I need you, I need-”

His words died with a rapturous moan as I settled atop him, his tongue desperately lapping and licking and probing with a feral desperation. I trembled at his eagerness, relishing the enthusiasm of his mouth against me, nails clenching against my legs in his frantic desire. My own pleasure made me just as needy, and I leant forward to take him in my mouth once more, whining at the feeling of his tongue sliding inside me, reaching desperately for the core of me, searching for some hidden part of me that only he knew.

When he skimmed his tongue over the bundle of sensitive nerves I cried out, ducking my head quickly and taking every inch of his cock deeply in my throat, working him with every movement and bit of pleasure he gave me. My own hands found his legs, one tracing a line over a delectable curve of muscle to roll his balls gently, eliciting a grunt of pleasure and a renewed vigour between my own thighs.

On and on the cycle went, each of us pushing the other higher, working one another with increasing desperation as we grew closer to our inevitable conclusion. I could feel every muscle in his body trembling desperately as he fought to restrain himself, refusing to let go until I could join him in that blissful hurtle headlong into abyssal pleasure.

It was the taste of the short bursts he couldn’t contain that sent me over the edge, the taste of him in his desperation proving too much for me to handle. His grip was hand on my waist as he held me to him tightly, tongue lapping as he groaned and jerked. I could feel his fingertips digging into my flesh, hard and bruising, keeping me close while I writhed and spasmed, swallowing hungrily around his pulsating cock.

Three

Greg left me spent and weak, laughing shakily with the force of my orgasm, a gentle kiss pressed to my forehead and murmuring for me to get a little more rest. I could only hum my agreement, eyes closing of their own volition, every inch of me depleted. The door closed with a quiet click, and I was alone, lulled by waves and the distant timbre of the Lieutenant’s voice as he spoke with those early to rise on deck.

But in my half-conscious state, as life crept back into my tender muscles, true sleep eluded me. Instead, wreathed in sheets still sweat-damp and warm, I could only become increasingly aware of the scent of him. His unique aroma of salt and weather-worn rope and home settled low in my abdomen, the ache between my thighs returning insistently. The memory of his tongue on me and his cock buried in my throat came unbidden, and I swallowed, one eye opening thoughtfully.

The space between my legs was still slick and sensitive, earning a soft moan as my knees fell apart and fingertips trailed slowly over my slit. The knowledge that his mouth had not long eagerly followed the same path had me growing wetter, and I couldn’t restrain as whimper of pleasure as I slipped two fingers inside myself.

“Fuck – yes, Lieutenant, just like that,” I breathed, head falling back, hand moving slowly and replaced, in my mind, with his.

Lost in my fantasy, whimpering quietly, I was not present enough in reality to hear that soft click once more, the door to the Captain’s quarters offering the perfect view of my exposed thighs beneath a rucked sheet as I squirmed and mewled pitifully.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that my gaze shot up, and I felt myself burn crimson, legs snapping shut in shame as I bolted upright. “Shit- I’m sorry, I- I was just-”

“Shut up,” he murmured, shedding his shirt as he stroke closer, the sheet dragged hungrily from my body. I barely had time to register my embarrassment before he was on his knees before me, pulling my legs apart with a growl. “Insatiable, aren’t you?” he purred, trailing a fingertip over y slick folds, a hint of a rumble in his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “Freshly come-drunk and already desperate for more…”

“Couldn’t help myself,” I gasped, fingers curling in the sheets as he slid two digits inside me, pumping slowly. “You – mm – you tasted so good, made me feel so good…”

He pressed gentle kisses along the inside of my thigh, skirting along the side of my slit and making me whimper. “And you thought you’d take matters into your own hands, hm? Without your Captain’s permission?” He tutted, fingers curling inside me and eliciting a sharp gasp. “You’d deny me the opportunity, Sergeant?”

“N-no, Sir,” I stammered quickly, vehemently shaking my head. “You- you were busy… I didn’t want to interrupt…”

His hand drew back to administer a stinging slap to my wetness, and I yelped in surprise, blushing at the pleasure that coursed through my veins and nodding hurriedly when his gaze flicked to mine, seeking clarification. With a smile, his digits slipped inside me once more, pulling a stuttered groan from parted lips. “Never too busy for you, sweet boy,” he murmured, tongue flicking teasingly against my clit, my hips jerking needily. “Certainly never too busy to take care of this sweet, soaked pussy…”

I mewled helplessly as his fingers moved more firmly inside me, knees falling further apart, my wanton desperation earning an approving smirk. “Please- please, Sir… Take care of me, please…”

His eyebrow arched, stern and playful, and he lifted his head from between my legs while I whimpered. “Oh – you think it’s going to be that easy, do you?” He clucked his tongue sympathetically as he removed his fingers, leaving me aching and empty. “No, my pet… You stroked this pretty pussy without my permission, and I’m going to make sure you learn.” A hand found my abdomen, pinning my squirming hips to the sheets, eyes meeting mine once more and glowing with pleasure when I nodded infinitesimally.

Even as my eyes were covered, leaving me blind and exposed, I felt anything but vulnerable. I trusted the man trailing his fingertips down my chest with my life. Rope passed around my wrists and pulled my arms overhead, and my back arched without fear, offering myself willingly and eagerly for a punishment I was certain I would enjoy. I held no doubt that I was safe from harm here, even as firm hands pressed my legs apart once more.

“You seem to be under the misguided impression that this is your pussy, Sergeant,” he purred, punctuating his words with another sharp slap to my wetness, earning a whimper of surprise and pleasure.

“But that’s not true, is it?”

Another strike, and my cheeks coloured at the sound of his palm against my soaked slit.

“This pussy belongs to me, pet. Mine. Do you hear me?”

My thighs inched further apart at the next impact, and I arched into his touch, nodding desperately.

“I said, do you hear me?”

Another slap, harder this time, and I yelped, eyes rolling back in pleasure behind my blindfold. “I hear you! Yours- I-I… I belong to you…”

Slap.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours,” I groaned, pressing closer needily.

Slap!

“Louder!”

“My pussy belongs to you, Sir!” I cried, straining against coarse ropes, frantic to touch myself – or to convince him to – as my wetness flowed readily. “Yours- all yours, to fuck and touch and- please, Lieutenant, please!”

Without warning, the blows stopped; the bed beneath me shifted as he moved away, and I let out a soft, tortured sob, hips rutting, desperately seeking any form of friction I could find.

More movement, and I stilled, the tip of cock his trailing lightly over me. My breath stuttered in my chest, and I hardly dared move, every nerve in my body focused intently on the leaking, rubbing head of his length rutting against me teasingly. “This is what you need, isn’t it?” he breathed, a hand wrapping tight around my hip as I nodded weakly. “Stroking this pretty cunt and fantasising about getting fucked like a whore….”

With a whimper, I nodded again, straining against his grip as my desperation increased, veins thrumming with the need to have him inside me. “Please, Captain…”

I cried out in surprise and delight as he pressed into me without warning, the thickness stretching me open quickly and sparking stars behind my eyes with the pleasure of it.

“There you go, pet… That’s  what you wanted, hm? Someone to split you in half and treat you like the needy slut you are?” His mouth found my throat as he fucked me roughly, leaving searing marks in his wake, while I could only sob and cling to him, helpless against the waves of pleasure thrumming through me with each thrust.

“N-not someone,” I stammered weakly, back arching to press myself blindly closer. “Just you – only you, Sir, please…”

I felt his gentle chuckle against my skin, and a warmth spread through me at his quiet delight, his hands holding me a little tighter. “That’s right; you’re mine, aren’t you? All mine.” I nodded desperately, a broken whimper of relief slipping between my lips as his fingers found my throbbing clit at last. “That’s it, Sergeant. You take it so well – such a pretty toy for me to play with.” His thrusts grew rougher and less rhythmic, and his free hand curled in my hair, clutching me tighter to his skin scented of sweat and sea and something intrinsic to my sailor. My legs wrapped around his hips to take him deeper, every stroke increasing my wetness – and the accompanying sordid sounds, which only served to drive me higher.

The lieutenant noticed the pressure before I did. He grunted and increased his pace, and it was then that I whimpered my need, warning him of an intense, impending something. His mouth found mine as he drew back, and I wailed in surprise and pleasure as my body gushed readily, soaking sailor and sheets in equal measure. No sooner had flood faded to a trickle than he was inside once more, grunting his delight at my neediness and pounding me into the mattress with brutal, sloppy strokes.

My nails tightened against my own palms, my sobs breathless and frantic. “Please- please, fuck, I need you! I need you to fill me up, Sir, please – need you to stuff me up – I’m yours, Sir, please!”

With a groan of surrender, he buried himself to the hilt inside me, the feeling of his cock pulsing as he released hot ropes deep within me drawing me over my own precipice with an inhuman howl.

I expected him to untie me the moment he pulled back, moving to his knees between my thighs with a soft sound of effort.

But instead, his fingers travelled over my slick, leaking pussy, making me whimper and jerk sensitively. He shushed me softly as two digits slid into my bruised hole, pushing his steadily dripping seed back inside me with a low rumble of pleasure. “That’s it, my sweet boy… Don’t want any of your Captain’s precious cum going to waste, do you?” He purred as I shook my head hard, a thumb gently smoothing over the flat skin of my abdomen. “One day I’m going to fuck a baby into you, Sergeant. I’ll fuck you until you’re all full up and fat for me… Would you like that, sweet boy?”

I whimpered weakly, nodding and squirming pointedly, wrapping my legs around his waist when he crawled atop me and crushing my lips to his once more.

Four

I was barely able to walk by the time night settled over the ship once more, but my Captain still was not done with me.

My body was littered with bites and scratches and blooming bruise, and the ropes had gone from being simply passed around my wrists to tied around my body in intricate patterns. I was bound and helpless, my thighs secured to my chest, leaking hole on display and offered to his mercy.

And what mercy it had been.

He’d taken me every which way until I was sobbing at the oversensitivity, weak and trembling and no longer able to support my own weight. At that point, he’d simply tied me up and tossed me to the sheets before continuing his exquisite torture – frequently checking in to affirm my consent, of course.

It seemed to me he was determined to make up for the time we’d spent together before this was a part of our relationship, and for the period of his recovery when the roughness he now treated me with wasn’t possible; a notion to which I was only too eager to comply. But even the impressive creature that was my Captain had limits, and after several orgasms and little sustenance, he’d all but emptied the tank.

I’d assumed, at that point, that the marathon was over, and my ‘punishment’, delicious as it had been, had reached its conclusion. But he had simply smiled at me, secured my thighs to my chest in a delicate entrapment of rope, and slid two fingers inside me, my whines falling on deaf ears. He’d made sure I was clear on how to stop this – words and gestures that would bring an immediate halt to proceedings for any reason – so he simply brushed a tear from my cheek with his free hand, working me with a practiced skill that set my bones alight while he crooned. “Just one more, sweet boy… You can give me one more, can’t you? I know you want to…”

I nodded my agreement to the latter, wriggling weakly against my binds.

I’d sell my soul to the devil if you asked it of me.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” I mewled pitifully, voice broken from cries and moans. “Please, Sir – I’m so sensitive, I-I don’t know if-” I cut myself off with a cracked groan as his digits curled inside me, my tenderised walls quivering in a painful pleasure.

“Oh, you can,” he purred, hand moving a little faster, “and you will.” His thumb brushed over my clit, and I jerked, fresh tears leaking free as my eyes squeezed shut.

“Please – I can’t, Captain, I can’t, I-”

His fingers curved again and he worked me deeper, removing all semblance of coherent thought from my mind with the motion as I wailed. I’d long ago lost any concern of being overheard – there simply was not space left in me to care, or to consider the matter at all, let alone moderate the sounds I made.

He knew my body better than I did, and when his digits began to speed up in response to some unknown stimuli, I whimpered, giving the ropes that held me fast an obligatory but pointless tug. “Please, Captain… I’m- I…”

He leant down and brushed his lips over mine, surprisingly sweet and chaste, before pressing his forehead to my own tenderly. “Come for me, Snowflake,” he breathed, his gaze locked intensely on mine.

I couldn’t look away as I unravelled for him, every muscle in my body straining and striving at the ropes to do something against the beautiful torture – whether to seek more or make it end was unclear – and cries fell unbidden from my bitten and kiss-flush lips. His hand never stilled nor slowed until my spine lost its bow-taut curve and my tears ran freely, every inch of my body loose and powerless sae the rhythmic clenching of my overworked pussy around his fingers. His movements were slow, exhausted, as he drew back, earning a weak whine, and untied me, easing my aching limbs into more natural positions.

It wasn’t until he held me in his arms, my head upon his chest, that I noticed his trembling, and tipped my face up to look at him, pulling the sheets closer about us. “Are you okay?” I murmured, brow furrowing with concern. He nodded slowly, pulling me tighter against him.

“A bit of a… Dip, of sorts. It takes a toll sometimes, being a dominant… There are occasions when the feelings fade and it’s a little… Uncomfortable.”

He offered me a weak smile, but my frown only deepened, his reassurance doing little to alleviate my worry. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

His head tipped slightly as he considered the offer, before the cure of his lips softened, gentle brown gaze locked on mine. “You could hold me?”

No sooner had the suggestion – the soft, almost hesitant request – left lips slightly bruised by passionate kisses than I was in motion, bundling the lieutenant flush to my chest and pressing my cheek to dark, sweat-damp hair. “I’ve got you, Gregor. My sweet, wonderful, perfect Captain. You’re incredible. That was incredible. I’ve never felt so…” I trailed off as I fought for the words, a low shiver working through my depleted body. “Much.”

He hummed contentedly, pressing his lips to my chest and nuzzling closer as exhaustion caught up with him. “Good… That’s good,” he murmured, voice slurring, trembling subsiding. “That’s good… ‘m good.”

I bit back a fond chuckle, fingers caressing his spine. “You’re perfect,” I clarified softly, smiling as I brushed a feather-light kiss over his forehead.

Five

I was on deck when my Captain awoke, driven from the warmth of our shared bet a short while before by the alluring dawn calls of the seabirds. My body ached in the most satisfying of ways as I rested with my forearms on the railing, face upturned to the dazzling display scattered over the glassy open. It was a mild morning, warm and clear, and the sea was surprisingly settled so far from shore – we’d dropped anchor sometime in the evening while Greg and I were otherwise indisposed, ahead of a scheduled stop for supplies. The south coast of Sri Lanka was a little more than a haze in the distance, and I was, admittedly, somewhat nervous about shore leave; it hadn’t gone especially well for me last time, after all.

But a lungful of fresh salted air and the barest hint of a breeze caressing skin warmed by the sunrise helped ease my mind – as did the arm snaking around my waist, lips skimming against my bare shoulder, eliciting a tender smile, my gaze still on the sky.

“Good morning, Captain.”

He purred quietly, pulling me a little closer, kissing up my throat slowly. “Good morning, Snowflake,” he murmured, warm breath washing over my skin and making me tremble. “I woke up and you were gone…”

I couldn’t help but smile infinitesimally at the innocent sadness in his voice, fingers trailing over the strong arm around me. “I wanted to take in the morning,” I replied, equally quiet, reluctant to break the reverent hush of the dawn, punctuated only by the whispered lapping of minute waves against the hull. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Mm, so you should be,” he hummed playfully, holding me tighter, and I grinned.

“Whatcha gonna do, Sailor? Make me walk the plank?” I teased back. My gasp was audible as he spun me quickly, pinned against the bulwark by his hands either side of me, face-to-face with his wicked smirk.

“I’m no pirate, boy,” he breathed, his mouth a half-inch from mine and making my heart race. “But… Maybe.”

Grinning, I kissed him quickly, then ducked under his arm, one eyebrow sliding into a playful arch. “Actually… A dip sounds quite nice right now…”

His eyes widened as I hooked my thumbs in slacks sitting low on my hips, throat bobbing visibly, and he glanced around. “Are y-”

The words trailed off in a groan as I turned, sliding down my trousers to reveal a bare – likely bruised – ass, stepping readily from my clothes and purring at the feeling of the warm sun on my skin. I could hear him beside me as I approached the rope over the space in the bulwark, and I moved slowly, unclipping it and stepping into the gap, eyeing the ocean beneath me with a grin. The moment I felt his fingertips skim my spine, I dove, eyes closing in pleasure as I broke the surface.

My body felt light and buoyant as I paused, lids parting to gaze into the depths. The sea above was a smooth, crystalline blue – but beneath the infinitesimal waves it became an explosion of colour, reds and yellows and greens in constant motion beneath corals in hues I could scarcely begin to explain. I watched for as long as I could, captivated, before my lungs cried out for air, forcing me to my own world once more.

Greg was staring down at me as I gulped in breaths, smiling fondly and slowly unbuttoning his own shirt. “Having fun?”

I grinned and nodded, leaning back. “You gonna join me, sailor?”

His eyebrow arched, gaze locked on mine as his own slacks hit the deck, followed quickly – and after a surreptitious glance – by his underwear. I purred with delight, then paused as he backed away.

… What the he-

My internal complaint was cut off by a blur as he dove over the bulwark a few paces further down the ship, emerging beside me with his eyes shining. “Hi, Snowflake,” he purred, sidling closer to kiss me softly.

“Where’d you go?” I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, our legs moving lightly to keep us afloat. With a grin, he raised a hand, two snorkels hanging from his finger.

“I thought you might want a closer look.”

With a gasp of delight – and a corresponding wriggle that left me spluttering on inhaled seawater – I nodded, unable to contain my excitement. “Yes, please!”

He laughed as he helped me into my goggles, offering me another quick kiss before positioning the snorkel between my lips. I grinned around the plastic, earning a cackle. His own equipment slid into place with expert speed, and he crooked a finger at me before rolling, his face disappearing beneath the surface.

The goggles allowed for a much better view, and I gasped through the pipe, the sound chased by a peel of laughter. I followed in my Captain’s wake as he led me along, trusting him wholeheartedly to keep me safe.

The seabed rose sharply ahead of us, and his eyes flicked to me, offering a hand. I was only too happy to oblige, letting him pull me along toward wonder and mystery. It wasn’t until we grew closer that I could discern shapes amongst the colours, svelte fish and slow-moving turtles weaving amongst the bony appendages, orange shoals moving as one beneath us. I couldn’t hide my joy, and he squeezed my hand affectionately, drawing my gaze back to him. His own eyes were not turned on the majesty before us, but instead locked on my face, soft and warm as he took me in. I blushed pre-emptively when he moved closer, removing his snorkel to press his lips gently to my cheek and letting out a low, tangible rumble of delight when I did the same, turning my head to catch his lips with mine.

We took brief dives toward to coral reef, holding our breath as we inspected the life in more detail. I’d have happily stayed down there forever – but a fierce tug at my leg and a lowering of my eyes had me rocketing toward the surface, shock and worry making my heart pound. Greg followed me swiftly, head cocked in confusion as he grasped my forearm, panting. “Are you o-”

“It’s on my leg,” I grunted, just a moment from panic. “I… Don’t think it should be on my leg.”

His head ducked below the surface once more before popping back up, grinning broadly. “I see.”

“Oh, do you?” I quipped, eyes narrowing affectionately. “Do you see the thing wrapped around my leg like a… Like a…”

“Octopus?” he finished, deadpan, and I couldn’t help but snort.

“Can you get it off? I intend to get out of the sea as naked as I got in, thanks!”

He chuckled and ducked beneath the surface once more, and I could feel his hands on my skin, moving about the tight grip gently. My leg twitched with relief when the pressure disappeared, and he reappeared, a dark grey creature trailing up his forearm. “See? It’s fine. It’s cute!”

“Cute,” I repeated apprehensively, leaning closer to trail a finger along the rubbery flesh. “… If you say so…” A tentacle reached  out to wrap around my hand, and I couldn’t help but smile softly. “… Yeah, okay… Maybe it’s kinda cute,” I conceded.

He laughed, gently lifting a tentacle from his skin. “They’re real popular amongst sailors on long journeys. I saw it a lot in the Navy,” he mused. My head cocked, and he smirked. “Well… They fry up quite nicely. And uh… Some people… Well… These little guys have a hell of a grip,” he added, his cheeks tinging with pink.

I frowned in confusion, then felt my jaw drop as comprehension dawned. “You mean they-”

“It’s not unheard of,” he interrupted, lip curling. “Not something I’ve ever… Partaken in myself, mind you.”

With a shudder, I stroked the octopus gently. “Well, none of that for you, little critter. Live long and prosper.”

As Greg carefully unpeeled the tentacled creature from his arm, he glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “… Did you just dismiss an octopus with a Star Trek quote?”

We scrambled back aboard the ship full of laughter, dripping and nudging one another, the faint marks on my leg giving the only indication as to what we were chortling about. I was light on my feet as I darted across the – mercifully still vacant – deck, snagging my slacks and stepping behind a few crates to shimmy into them. No sooner were they over my backside, however, than fingers caught the edge, sliding beneath with a purr in my ear.

“Now, now… Is that really necessary?” he murmured, and I trembled beneath his touch.

“Out here? Probably,” I chuckled weakly, letting my head fall back against his shoulder with a soft sigh. The sound morphed into a low, longing whine when his fingertips skimmed against the edge of my pubic hair, legs inching wider apart of their own accord, earning a chuckle from the Lieutenant.

“You don’t seem especially shy, Snowflake…”

I blushed softly, but I couldn’t keep my hand from curling around his arm, needily pressing myself closer. “You make it hard to behave myself…”

He grinned against my throat, purring his delight. A soft twitch of his hips made me gasp gently, shivering. “You make me hard,” he murmured, his length pressing against my ass through my slacks pointedly. I trembled and whined, pushing back against him, and his free hand travelled to cover my mouth as we heard movement on deck. “Do you think you can be quiet?” he breathed, pulling me to the mast and flush against his chest, the hand in my slacks teasing my already-wet slit slowly. I paused before nodding, breath coming harsh against his palm. My eyes rolled back in pleasure as a finger slid patiently inside me, his arms around me the only thing that kept me upright as my knees threatened to give way. The lips at my throat made me mewl pitifully, nails digging into his flesh as I fought to keep my voice down. He wasn’t going to take his time with me, that much became quickly clear; his thumb found my clit as a second digit pressed into my willing body, curled and precise, seeking out the spot that made me sob.

I wailed against his skin as he fingered me roughly, feeling heat rise in my neck at the wetness pooling in his palm. I may have been quiet, but the sound of his hand moving against me was lewd and deafening, and I couldn’t shake the certainty that we’d be discovered – not that the fear stopped me from pressing my hips closer or rutting harder. His touch was too much for me to bear, insistent as he was, and within minutes I was quivering, each muscle in my body burning with desire as they contracted under his will.

“That’s it, sweet boy,” he purred, lips brushing against my ear as he held me tighter. “So quick, so good for me… Come for me, Sergeant. I want to feel that pretty little cunt squeezing me tight.”

I cried out into a hand that pressed harder against my mouth as he worked me faster, body crumpling against him, helpless and powerless against the convulsions of my frame as I tightened around him on cue. His face buried in my throat, nipping sharply, his wrist only slowing when the rhythmic clenching of my pussy around his digits began to ease up.

And One.

By the time I could feel my legs again, I was trembling, stunned by his efficiency. “You continue to exceed all expectations,” I croaked weakly when his hand shifted from my mouth, leaning back against him tiredly. He simply chuckled softly in response, pressing a kiss to my temple, and slid his fingers from my slacks, earning a shiver of delight at the sound of him licking them clean beside me.

“I do my best,” he replied with faux modesty, sliding his hand into mine. “I do so love watching you come for me, Snowflake.”

With a snort, I flashed him a broad grin. “Feel free to do so anytime,” I replied, winking, and he arched an eyebrow. Silently, he shifted me from his body, leading me out of our hiding spot and across the deck. My cheeks flushed, eyes lowering to avoid eye contact with any of my crewmates, but nobody glanced our way save to call a casual ‘good morning’. His voice was steady as he replied, echoed by my own shaky greetings, envious of his nonchalance. I let out a huff of relief as the heavy cabin door closed behind us, and he turned to me once more, eyes sparkling.

“I think they need to come back off,” he purred, inclining his head at my slacks. “And I think you need to have that ass in the air for me, sweetheart.”

I gulped and moved quickly, obeying without question, flushing at the wetness coating my thighs as they were exposed to the cool air inside the cabin. He smirked as he watched, arms folded across his chest, humming contentedly to himself. I felt exposed as I assumed the requested position, bare ass and dripping pussy facing him as I bent over the bed, my cheek pressed to the sheets with a soft, needy whine. “Please,” I breathed, wriggling eagerly, enchanted by his desire for me. “Please, Sir, I-I need-”

My words died at the sound of his footsteps, breath seizing in my throat. He moved slowly, deliberately, each pace patient. I could all but feel his eyes on me, hungry and predatory, and shivered with delight.

I expected the touch of his fingers, or maybe the sound of his slacks hitting the floor – but instead I groaned aloud as his tongue passed over me, his own delighted purr vibrating against my wetness. Hands curled around my waist, holding me to him as his mouth explored me with astonishing ability, earning a cacophony of whines and whimpers for his efforts. The wetness on my thighs intensified, fingers clawing needily at the bedsheets, mind blank under his talented tongue. “Fuck – Greg, Lieutenant, Captain, please, please…”

He drew back long enough to kiss my exposed ass, humming happily to himself. “Yes, Snowflake?”

I pressed back eagerly, inching my legs further apart. “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I’m aching, and dripping, and-”

My voice cut off once more as he pushed inside me quickly, driving any residual thoughts from my mind as my body jerked beneath his thrusts. The hands on my hips grasped tighter, fingernails pressing into my skin as he pulled me against him. “God, I love fucking you,” he breathed, moving slowly and forcefully inside me, making my breath hitch with each stroke. “You feel so fucking good…”

I moaned uselessly, broken and desperate as I rutted back against him, one hand travelling beneath me to caress my clit eagerly, lost in the feeling of him inside me. “You’re so good to me,” I whimpered, reaching back to grasp at his wrist as his hand found my shoulder to pull me closer. “So good – so, so, so g-”

“Hey, Cap, we’re just abo- Oh my God, really? Lock the door!”

With a yelp of surprise, Greg’s bodyweight found my back as he flattened himself, reaching over me to snag the duvet and cover himself as best he could. “Neri! Get the fuck out!”

“I was ju-”

“Not the time!”

The door slammed closed once more, leaving us in a horrified silence, and I turned my head to catch the eye of the sailor atop me just as raucous laughter broke out on the other side of the wood.

A few seconds later, we were chortling ourselves, his arms wrapping around me to hold me tight to his chest, tears streaming down his cheeks as he creased up. “Well… It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he cackled, shaking his head affectionately. “I’m so sorry…”

I snorted back, pressing my forehead against his throat briefly before meeting his eyes once more, touching my lips to his. The joy blooming in my chest had the tears beading along my own lash line spilling onto my skin, my forehead pressed against his own tenderly. “I love you so much, Grishenka,” I whispered, thumb smoothing along his cheekbone rapturously, and he smiled.

“I love you too, Snowflake. Infinitely and endlessly.”

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Title: If only he would say

Pairing: None.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 952

Warnings: None.

Summary: Dean was certain this case would be the death of him. Vetalas had been found to be feeding off this particular street. Their targets were pretty men, around six feet tall and in decent shape. There seemed to be no preference if the person was a dom or sub; they were just looking for food since the four victims had been two doms and two subs, all male. So, Castiel and Dean went into the club, in character and costume, as a different kind of bait.

A/N: Drabble for bingos. Thanks to my two betas @mrswhozeewhatsis and Chase.

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo / Square(s) Filled: Accidental boner

Dean watched Castiel walk into the bar, confidence written on his face and how he held himself. He was a dom, if there ever was one. He could feel the blood drain south. It was frankly embarrassing how the just sight of Castiel had Dean chubbing up.

Dean was certain this case would be the death of him. Vetalas had been found to be feeding off this particular street. Their targets were pretty men, around six feet tall and in decent shape. There seemed to be no preference if the person was a dom or sub; they were just looking for food since the four victims had been two doms and two subs, all male. So, Castiel and Dean went into the club, in character and costume, as a different kind of bait. Sam, outside in the back alley near the employee exit, as backup.

But Dean didn’t expect Castiel to look like an entree—Castiel was dressed in a mesh, long-sleeved shirt with a belt buckle cover that said ‘Daddy’ on it. His thick thighs were clad in black jeans that barely held him, pushed into black cowboy boots. He walked past Dean, eyes scanning him from head to toe and, with a nod, then took a seat at the end of the bar. The angel did his own research in regard to the case and went to a different store than Dean, it seems. He must have gotten help because Dean did not take Castiel as a daddy.

Dean blushed under Castiel’s gaze, finished his beer, and signaled for another. Dean’s mouth was dry and he downed half of his new beer in one take. Castiel ordered a beer and turned around to look at those dancing. Not twenty minutes later, Dean nearly did a spit take when he found Castiel on the dance floor surrounded by two men in similar gear talking to him. With a shake of his head, they left him alone. Cas remained there dancing and he wasn’t bad. He had rhythm but his moves were somewhat lacking. Dean looked around scanning for a potential pair of men or a single male luring people to go out back.

Dean adjusted his own tight jeans as he glanced back at Castiel, trying to remain unnoticed, as he licked his lips and watched sweat slowly roll down Cas’ tanned skin into his top. Dean’s pleather harness was rubbing against his pectoral a bit due to the sweat, but he was fine. What Dean didn’t realize was that Castiel was watching him in return.

Sam, tired of couples stumbling into the alley for privacy and/or a smoke, decided to watch from the Impala. He texted Castiel and Dean this information, and then proceeded to the vehicle.

A few beers later, Dean was chatting with a nice-looking man who sat on the stool next to him for the last five or so minutes. Castiel, who had taken a dark corner booth with a whisky neat, remained observant of Dean and the man. The guy bought Dean another beer, subtly touching Dean on his arms and outside of his thighs. They began leaning into each other, as if whispering. Dean was touching the man back.

Suddenly, they both got up and headed towards the back. Once outside, the man slammed Dean against the wall and passionately kissed him while Dean worked to grab his silver knife from his back. The kiss ended, Dean sighed, and his partner grabbed Dean’s harness, throwing him at the dumpster only to be caught by a big, warm, hard chest and arms. Dean looked up, first noticing a smile with oddly pointed teeth and realized he was in danger.

“Shit!” exclaimed Dean.

Castiel slammed open the back door at Dean’s exclamation. Taking in the alley, the angel threw his angel blade at the vetala holding, which went straight into the creature’s shoulder driving a scream from the large vetala male. He dropped Dean on the asphalt ground as Castiel touched the creature’s forehead, the large vetala male’s eyes and mouth glowed brightly, burning the creature from the inside out before it, itself, dropped to the ground, hollow and dead. Meanwhile, the smaller vetala male was behind Castiel as the angel helped Dean to stand. Luckily, Sam heard Dean yelling and came running. Upon entering the alley, Sam continued until he was in range and hit the smaller vetala male with a silver knife in the chest. He ran up the creature, grabbing the blade, twisting it with a snarl until the monster dropped dead. He pulled the knife from its chest and cleaned his silver blade on the dead vetala’s clothes.

Dean stood there, heart pumping and adrenaline coursing through his body. His cock, which had been persistently chubby all night, had gone to full mast thanks to the fight. The hotness of Castiel throwing an angel blade right next to his head was not to be denied. The slight fear made the rescue and knife-throwing that much sexier. Dean was unable to hide his boner.

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “What did you do?” he asked before walking back towards the car.

“Shut up, Sam. I was making out with the guy,” Dean explained. His face heated up as he avoided Castiel’s gaze.

“Dean,” Castiel said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just a bodily reaction. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Dean’s face began to darken in color, ashamed of his reactions to Castiel while Castiel tried to console Dean. “Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean replied through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact as he headed to the Impala. Castiel stood there a moment, eyes squinting at him and head tilted, trying to read Dean’s body language.

[evadne01]

A bit more complicated

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Fandom: Elementary (TV) Relationship: Jamie Moriarty | Irene Adler & Joan Watson (Elementary) Characters: Jamie Moriarty | Irene Adler, Joan Watson (Elementary), Marcus Bell, Thomas Gregson (Elementary) Additional Tags:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 03, POV Joan Watson (Elementary), BAMF Joan Watson (Elementary), Smart Joan Watson (Elementary), Smart Jamie Moriarty (Elementary), Obsessed Jamie Moriarty (Elementary), Intrigued Jamie Moriarty (Elementary), Jamie Moriarty Is Curious About Joan Watson (Elementary), Mind Games, Stalking, Good Friend Marcus Bell, Protective Marcus Bell, Protective Thomas Gregson (Elementary), Good Friend Thomas Gregson (Elementary)

AO3 Tag Bingo: Stalking @anyfandomgoesbingo: The Day You Went Away - M2M @eclipsingbingo - The Rising Moon: Mind Games @fandombingo - Reverse Bingo 1999: “This is a priceless treasure in every sense.” @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May: Empty Chair

[howtodrawyourdragon]

Hair & TLC

Summary: Written for AFG Valentine's Day Bingo. Takes place during Heather’s time on Dragon’s Edge. Heather receives some much needed TLC from Astrid.

Warnings: /

Rating: General

Words: 385

Prompt: Playing With Their Hair

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Astrid, Heather

Pairing: Heathstrid

Author's Notes: Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

~~XOXOX~~

It’s late in the evening and it’s just the two of them in the club house. Hiccup is probably out flying with Toothless, Fishlegs is back at his hut and who knows what the rest of the Riders are doing. It’s Heather and Astrid that are all alone in here. The former is extremely tense as she sharpens her axe and her friend can tell. She’s been watching her.

When she pulls up a stool to sit right behind her, Heather wants to ask what’s up, but then Astrid pulls her braid from over her shoulder and begins to undo it.

“Astrid?” Heather speaks her name, her tone soft, but she just hushes her, meeting her softness.

Once her long soot-black and wavy hair falls down her back, Astrid gently combs through it with her fingers. Starting from the bottom. First of all, she wants to get as many knots out as she can. Luckily, that’s a little bit easier when your hair is in a braid for most of the time.

Heather’s double-headed axe and whetstone rest on her lap while Astrid plays with her hair. Once all the knots are out and nothing’s pulling on her scalp anymore, she focuses on the feeling of her friend’s fingers combing through the dark locks. It’s ticklish, sending pleasant chills up her spine.

Heather finds herself relaxing and sighs as the tension leaves her. Her eyes close and she completely hands herself over at the mercy of her friend. This is a caring gesture, it’s affectionate. Heather vaguely remembers her mother doing this for her when she was a child, Astrid’s must’ve done this for her as well throughout her childhood.

Her mind is drifting, tiredness is setting in now that her thoughts can settle in pleasant memories for once. It feels good to be here and she’s thankful for Astrid.

At the end, she lets her hair fall down her back and Heather turns in her stool to face her.

“Are you okay?” Astrid asks and the other girl nods. She was really stressed today, but she feels a little better now.

“We should go to bed, get some sleep,” she tells her. “We can train together tomorrow.”

“That sounds really nice, Astrid,” Heather tells her and the two stand to head to bed together.

[xxdustnight88]

It Could Be Love

Rated: Teen & Up Pairing: Theodore Nott/Millicent Bulstrode Word Count: 1,522 Summary: Millie and Theo give each other a chance.

Written for @anyfandomgoesbingo Square I2: Intensive Care Unit

[spnbabe67]

Confess Your Lust

Kinktober Day 25: Power Exchange (D.W.)

Pairing: Sub!Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1928

Warnings: Smut, Oral (F. Rec), PiV, D/s dynamics, Sub!Dean (don't know if that counts as a warning)

Summary: Dean likes it when Tori takes control

Authors Note: Title inspired by the song Do It For Me by Rosenfeld

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo /Square Filled: Power Exchange

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

It wasn’t often that Dean let himself be vulnerable. Practically from birth it was instilled in him to be the strong one, keeping his emotions and his softer side quiet. It’d been a long road of relearning that sentiment, and Tori had been his biggest supporter in the endeavor, in more ways than one. She hadn’t judged him the first time he suggested she take control, take things further than the typical ‘harder, faster’, while they made a mess of their sheets, easily falling into the role he’d asked of her. She hadn’t been mocking or dismissive. She’d been kind and understanding, only taking it as far as he wanted, checking with him along the way, and it made him fall in love with her even more. Gradually, Tori had gotten more and more confident, oftentimes initiating the switch without him asking, much to his delight. 

Like tonight.

Dean knelt on the floor between Tori’s legs as she sat on their bed clad in a pair of his boxers and an old oversized AC/DC t-shirt. His eyes were locked on hers as she carded her fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. 

“Tell me what you want, De.” Her voice was smooth like honey, intonation gentle as she dragged a finger down the side of his face to tip his chin up either further. 

“Let me touch you, please.” Dean pleaded. He didn’t whine; that was one of her rules. No whining. He could beg and plead until his voice went hoarse, but he could never whine.

“Tell me why.” Tori countered, pulling her hand away to place it on the bed beside her. “Why should I let you touch me?”

“‘Cause I’ve been good.” God she was beautiful. Dean couldn’t pull his eyes from her even if he wanted to. They’d left the bedside lamp on and the warm glow from the bulb glanced off her features in a way that made her look simply ethereal, her raven hair unbound and spilling down her shoulders and down her back. 

“How good?”

“I’ve been so good.” Dean ran his hands up and down his thighs, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her, but knew better. She’d already instructed him to strip down to his boxers. “Please, I’ve been good. Let me touch you.”

Dean watched her with bated breath as she seemed to mull his plea over, cocking her head to the side as she examined him. He could feel a warm blush creeping up the sides of his neck as her keen gaze dragged down his bare torso, down to where his cock strained against the cotton of his boxers. He saw her eyes darken with desire, fighting her own waning desire; they were both getting used to this.

“Be gentle.” Tori spoke after minutes of silence. 

Dean resisted the urge to immediately reach out and pull her to him, to mold his mouth against hers. Instead, he gently caressed his fingertips up the outside of her leg, tracing it from her ankle up to her knee. He leaned in, brushing his lips against the inside of her knee, truly the ghost of a kiss, his eyes falling shut. He mimicked his movements on the other side, feeling her shiver at his light touches. 

Tori’s hand found his head again in an encouraging grip as his lips moved higher and higher on her thigh, letting his tongue flick out every so often, tasting her skin. His fingers followed his mouth along the outside of her thighs, hooking on the waistband of her boxers. He could see a wet spot already formed in the gray fabric, a testament of how she was having just as hard a time resisting him as he was with her. She lifted her hips, aiding him in slowly pulling her boxers down her legs. His mouth started to water at the sight of her pussy, soaked in her arousal, just inches from his face.

He went to lean in, to put his mouth right where they both wanted it when Tori took hold of his hair, halting his forward trajectory.

“What do you say?” Tori breathed.

“Please. Please let me make you feel good.” 

Tori eased her grip. “Good boy. Go ahead.”

Dean grinned up at her as he slid his hands up and down her thighs, gripping the tops of them as he leaned forward, nuzzling the inside of her thigh. Just as he felt her impatience start to boil over, Dean connected his lips to her dripping core, laving his flattened tongue up her center, pulling a shaky moan from Tori’s lips. His lips wrapped around her clit, placing open mouthed kisses over her heat, lapping her up. 

“That’s it, De. You got it, Baby.” Tori moaned

Gradually, the grip Tori’s hand had in his hair grew tighter, holding his face between her legs as he slipped a finger inside her. Her inner walls pulsated around the digit as he curled it upwards, seeking that spot he knew would have her cumming on his mouth and hands in no time. She moaned harshly as he added another finger, working them both in at a steady pace. He felt her start to clench around his fingers, her legs wanting to close around him, but stopped by his grip on her thigh with the hand not knuckle deep in her pussy. 

A string of filthy curses fell from his lover's lips as she came hard on his face, hips rocking against his mouth. Tori knotted her fingers in his hair, pulling Dean away from between her legs, finally locking her lips against his own. Dean let her guide him up off his knees, groaning as the stiffness of them protested the movement. She pulled him up, letting him chase her up the bed. That was until she flipped them, laying him flat on his back with him grinning breathlessly up at her. Tori snagged his hands as they instinctually went to their place on her hips, pinning them above his head.

“These,” She squeezed his wrists. “Stay here, yeah?”

Dean nodded vigorously, sure his pupils were blown wide with lust and affection. 

“Words, Babe. I need words.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dean agreed, flattening his hands against the headboard as Tori straightened again, straddling his hips. 

He groaned deep in his chest as Tori rolled her hips over his painfully hard cock, still encased in his boxers. He could feel her wet warmth through the material as she teased him. His lips parted, mouth falling open slightly as she slipped his boxers down his legs, letting them rest around his knees, not giving him the option of having them all the way off. His head fell back against the pillow, biting his lip so hard he could have sworn he tasted blood as her warm hand finally wrapped around his length pumping him once, twice. 

“How bad do you want this?” Tori’s voice even more sultry, her brown eyes half lidded once Dean dragged his head back up to look at her.

“So, so bad.” Dean begged, his voice thick with desire, not being able to help his hips bucking up against her hand. “I want you so bad. I need you, please.”

His hands curled into fists, having to force himself from reaching out to touch her. Tori leaned back over his body and Dean’s eyes fell shut, leaning up to meet her kiss. A kiss that never came. Instead he was met with a cheeky, breathless laugh next to his ear, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I like it when you beg.” Tori whispered in his ear, nipping at the shell of it before pulling back. 

Dean’s mouth did drop open this time, mostly in disbelief of how fucking hot that exchange was. I’m so damn lucky she’s mine. His eyes damn near rolled back in his head as Tori shifted her weight, slowly lowering herself down, letting the head of him slip inside her. His jaw clenched tightly as she teased him, slowly inching him inside her just to lift herself back off, repeating the movement in painstaking segments. He whimpered as she finally sunk all the way down, his cock fully sheathed inside her. He jumped slightly of the sensation of her hands bracing on his chest, her palms smoothing along his pecs as she raised herself up until only the head of him remained inside her, then slid back down. Again and again she did it, teasing not only herself, Dean knew, but him too. But that was the game, and he knew she loved playing it as much as he did. 

But there grew a point where he could no longer take it, take keeping his hips from bucking up into her warmth, from reaching up again and taking hold of her waist, bouncing her on his cock. 

“Tori.” Dean let out a strangled whimper. “Faster, please.”

“But I like this pace.” She said mockingly, not changing her tempo

Bullshit. He knew she hated this as much as he did. 

“But I could be persuaded if you just said please.” Tori said, dragging her nails down his chest.

“Please.” Dean begged, gripping the pillow under his head.

Tori stuck to her word, moving her hips faster, even if it was at an incrementally higher pace.

“Please, baby, please.” Dean whimpered. The word became a one track record stuck on repeat, falling from his lips as he chased her warmth around him. 

Gradually her hips sped up to a manageable rhythm, a rhythm where both of them could enjoy this. Dean could feel her walls start to throb around him as she ground down on him with each pass. A trickle of sweat trailed down his forehead to his temple, soaking into the pillow under him as he held himself back from that growing pit in his belly. He knew better, knew to wait for her word. 

“Almost there baby. Just a bit longer for me, yeah?” Tori panted using her hands on his chest as leverage as she bounced up and down on him, her thigh muscles flexing with each movement. 

He could feel her knees inching closer to his waist, her inner walls squeezing him tighter and tighter as they both neared that edge. Finally, his name fell from her lips, a plea and a release, granting him permission as her orgasm rolled over him. A broken moan edged out of him as he came hot and hard inside her, hands fisted so hard in the pillow he thought he heard a stitch pop. Both of them breathed heavy as Dean helped Tori pull his limp cock from inside her, allowing her to lay on his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair as his hand rubbed her back as they both laid there soaking in each others after-sex glow. 

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Dean murmured to her.

Tori laughed tiredly, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thanks, Babe.”

“Thank you.” He hugged her tightly.”I needed that.”

“I know.” Tori smiled at him, pecking a kiss to his lips before reaching over to turn the light off.

Dean stroked Tori’s back until he felt her breaths even out, knowing she was asleep. He sighed, his chest swelled with love for the woman laying atop him, appreciating in the moment just how lucky he was to have her. Eventually, he too was lulled to sleep by the sounds of Tori’s soft breathing. What a better way to fall asleep?

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Merry & Bright"

Part 4 - Package Deal

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, omega Bucky, alpha Steve, kids/domestic, fingering, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, Voicing, claiming bites, D/s elements, mentions of PTSD, mentions of depression, postpartum, body insecurity, breastfeeding, mpreg, pet names

Word Count: ~7000 (I'm sorry, okay?!😫)

Summary: Steve and Bucky make love for the first time since the birth of their son.

(Or: a prime example of how even my sincere attempts at g-rated domestic kid fics devolve into 6000+ words of smut 🤦🏻‍♀️)

[“You want to know what it looks like?” Steve growls, pulling back with a filthy-wet sound and a voice that’s furious and rough-edged and determined. “It looks like the cunt of the omega who gave me my children. Looks like the cunt I wanna spend the rest of my life fucking, stuffing full of my cock, my cum, my knot … my tongue.”]

(Wait! I haven't read part 1, 2, 3 yet!)

Steve appears in the doorway to their bedroom after putting the girls to bed. “ ‘And the children were nestled all snug in their beds’ ,” he recites, making Bucky chuckle softly.

“ 'blah blah, something about a long winter’s nap' .” (Which doesn’t sound bad at all to him right about now.) “That took a while," he says, stifling a yawn against the top of Gabe’s head. “They didn’t get their hands on any sugarplums at that party, did they?”

Steve shakes his head. “Naw. Crackers and juice.”

“Juice has sugar.”

“They’re fine. Reading got ‘em down.”

“We still on Stuart Little?”

“Becs begged for an extra chapter,” Steve confirms, smiling from where he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes full of affection as he watches Bucky feeding their son. “Did you have a nice time tonight, babe?”

Bucky winces first and lies second, so of course his ever-perceptive husband raises an eyebrow and waits him out for the truth. Bucky recounts the encounter with Karen and the other moms. “They wear me out,” he says, letting his eyes slip closed and his head dig back into the pillow that he’s got propped against the headboard. “Even when I promise myself I’m just gonna eat the food and not engage, somehow they draw me in. They have that knack.” 

“Eh. They’re just a bunch’a cotton-headed ninny muggins.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah well I’m not too far off from ‘em.” He feels Gabe slowing down and trails his fingers through the boy’s wispy hair. “Here I thought it was last week instead of this week. Seven full calendar days off track.”

“Babe, it happens.”

“Hm. No it doesn’t. But you’re sweet for saying so.” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Neurologist said I’ve got too much white matter, now.”

“Yeah, and he also said it isn’t getting any worse. Lots’a people have brain injuries and manage to live perfectly fine lives.”

Bucky doesn’t miss how Steve substitutes the word ‘fine’ for ‘normal’, and his lips twist wryly. “I know. It’s just, all this time I’ve been blaming it on pregnancy brain, but that'd be wearing off by now.” He groans with his eyes still closed. “Swiss cheese for brains, Stevie, I swear.”

Steve makes a sad tut of disapproval from the doorway. Bucky stubbornly doesn’t open his eyes, but he can hear the soft sounds of Steve padding across the room, then the bed dipping by his side as he slides in next to him. “You’re doing great, Sweetheart,” he encourages.

Despite how much Bucky disagrees with that assessment, he can still hear all the love and warmth in Steve’s voice, can tell that his husband sincerely means it when he leans in and kisses his ear, lips and breath lingering at the craggy, mutilated top. It’s one of the ways that Steve has always silently said ‘I love you’ to Bucky when he knows the omega is in a bad mood, and it somehow manages to worm its way past his churlishness each and every time. “Thanks, Babe,” he mutters.

Steve wiggles in to sit beside him, hip to hip, mindful of Bucky and the baby and not upsetting Gabe’s feeding time. “... Did something else happen today? You seem, I dunno, burdened.”

“I am. I mean I’m just fucking tired, but yeah.”

His hand appears on top of Bucky's thigh. “Tell me?”

Bucky sighs. “Just my emotions goin’ haywire. Hormones. I went jogging and cried in the park.”

“Baby,” 

Steve never likes to hear that Bucky’s unhappy, which is the main reason why Bucky avoids mentioning it. He’s got a therapist for that shit, after all. “Eh, it was brief. I got over it. But then I realized the play was tonight and I had to scramble to get the girls' costumes together; and right before that, I had to do battle with this snotty little beta at the pharmacy just to try and get my prescription filled, so that didn’t help.”

“What?”

Bucky ruefully recounts the incident with his birth control medication and the new FDA regulations, and Steve starts to rumble angrily in his chest before the story is halfway through. Bucky opens his eyes to see his Alpha looking all indignant on his behalf. His lips quirk. “Easy there, Big guy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve growls. “I didn’t know there was any kind of legislation like that being considered.”

Steve’s unhappy scent is making Gabe start to pull away, and Bucky rubs the infant’s back. “Calm down. You’re making him squirm.” Steve grumbles but tries to obey, and Bucky relaxes when he feels Gabe go searching for another latch. “I dunno Steve. Things are changing, and I see the signs and it just scares the crap outta me.” 

“What do you mean, ‘changing’?”

“Just ... the little things," he mumbles, knowing that there's a chapter in his book called that, and that Steve probably remembers it, too. Bucky shrugs, avoiding Steve's concerned stare. "A couple of years ago, people weren’t talking so much about church. Now everybody’s back to talking about gender roles all the time.”

“People are allowed to have religion, Buck.”

“It’s not just that. It’s people’s attitudes changing, their whole approach. It scares me. People didn’t used to always be talking about what was ‘decent’ or what was ‘allowed’ on this platform or that. Purity culture, moral absolutism; those things were on the decline, ya know? People didn’t criticize working mothers as much. Omegas didn’t wear their collars in public like it's some sort of fashion statement. 'Tradwives' weren’t trending on TikTok. … Abortion was protected.”

“It’s still protected,” Steve argues. 

“Here it is,” Bucky says peevishly, because they both know about each and every issue that’s been kicked back to the states in recent years. “It’s how fast everybody forgets. Now those bumper stickers are coming back in vogue again, Jesus fish lapel pins. Hell, it’s even normal to launch a friendly chat with a chipper little ‘where do you fellowship?’ They’re banning books all the time—”

“In schools, not public libraries,” Steve interrupts, then hurriedly adds, “I’m not defending it, Buck. I’m just saying there’s a difference.”

“There’s a difference until there’s not a difference,” he snaps. Then, after a beat of fraught silence between them, he whispers, “Please tell me it’s not happening again, Steve.”

“Hey.” Steve shifts beside him, putting an arm behind his back to pull him closer against his side. He kisses the top of his head. “No, Buck. We’ve got intelligence agencies to fight against that, now. That’s what Shield is for. It’s what I do. You’ve gotta know I’d never let you or the girls—the kids,” he hurriedly amends, not yet used to “the girls” no longer being an apt descriptor of their children, “get drawn into a situation like that again. I’d never let it happen, baby, never. You know we have an exit plan if things get bad.”

Bucky nods, swallowing thickly at the mere thought of it. “Yeah,” he whispers against Gabe’s head. He knows that Steve only put that plan together to help assuage Bucky’s lingering fears, his anxiety that never quite goes away completely. “Yeah. We can get out. We have a plan.” He’s whispering it to himself, vaguely recognizes the beginning feelings of a spiral, how his pulse is faster than it should be, audible in his ears, with dread pooling low in his gut like spoiled food.

He whimpers and pushes his nose against Gabe’s hair to soothe himself, inhaling the new baby smell that he still has. “We have a private jet,” he whispers, reminding himself, trying not to let his thoughts flash back to the memory of the retreating rear window of his mom’s car at a border crossing, his sisters’ faces pressed against the glass as they leave him behind in a country where he's not safe anymore …

“Untrackable Quinjet, fly to Canada,” he murmurs, trying to focus on five things that he can see, smell, feel, taste and hear … about Gabe, his son, his—

“Baby,” Steve is mourning by his side. He grips Bucky’s shoulder and gives him a comforting squeeze, which pulls Bucky’s vision back into focus from the panic attack he’d been about to fall into. Steve seems unaware of it. He’s still just cuddling him and talking platitudes in a low voice. “That’s not happening, okay? Things are fine, I promise you.”

Bucky nods, even though he can’t help but to worry, “Then why are people giving up their rights again?” he asks. “You know they’re expanding the Fertility Care Act.”

“I know. But that doesn’t take anyone’s rights away.”

“You know how I feel about it.”

“I know. I know babe. ‘Incentiv—”

“Incentivization is the first step to coercion!” Bucky finishes for him. “Yes. They’re prioritizing citizens who can have kids over ones who can't. How is that fair?!” 

Steve lowers his head. “It’s not.”

“And passing all these restrictive laws? Requiring my Alpha to cosign on my birth control? How can they do that?”

Steve sighs. “We’re still a democracy,” he says sadly. “People still have the right to vote for the policies they want, even if they’re not the same things that you and I want. We’re a self-determining society, babe. If they get enough support for it, enough votes … People still get to make these decisions.”

Bucky grunts. “Well they're making the wrong ones.”

Steve hums in agreement, giving him another squeeze. “Hey now, don’t think about that stuff. Relax with me tonight, that’s what I want.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re gonna turn the milk sour, you keep worrying like that,” he teases. “C’mere, grumpy.” He dips in and nuzzles against Bucky’s face to try and get a small smile out of him. It kind of works, and Steve hums happily when he feels him soften. “How’s Little man?” he asks, kissing Bucky’s temple and looking down at their son.

“Pretty sure he’s eating in his sleep,” Bucky murmurs. “And I’m about to be too.” 

“Mm. But you’re not eating.” 

“You know what I mean, dummy.”

Steve leans in and noses at his neck, scenting him affectionately. “You smell so good, momma. Smell like home, like mate.” Bucky makes a grumbling sound of complaint at the “momma” and Steve snickers and kisses him in apology. He cups his hand behind Bucky’s flesh one, intimately joining him in cradling their infant son’s head against Bucky’s chest. “Lookit that,” he purrs, and it’s not all innocence to his tone, as he stares at where Gabe is suckling. “I love to see you like this,” he murmurs. “Seeing you feeding him, giving him what he needs. Using that part of yourself for this.”

Bucky groans and lets his eyes fall closed again in mortification. “Steeve.” He feels Steve’s thumb start swiping back and forth on the back of his hand that's cupping Gabe's head.

“Shh. It’s true, momma.” Steve starts peppering kisses against the top of his shoulder as he watches Gabe nursing and Bucky blushing. He speaks softly between the kisses, murmuring intimate words of love against Bucky’s skin: “Love it. Love you. You don’t know what it does to me, to see you with him like this. Watching you takin’ care of him. Knowing that your gorgeous body can do this, can nourish him. The baby you made for me, my son.” His voice is rumbling again by the time he finishes, possessive, and he laces their fingers together and ducks in close to start mouthing at Bucky’s bonding glands—something which he knows turns Bucky on to no end, goddamn him. 

Bucky groans and whines. “Are you serious right now?” Steve’s laugh puffs out against his skin, warm and affectionate, and Bucky drops his head to try and hide the smile he can’t keep off his own face. “Damn you, Rogers.”

“Language, momma Rogers,” Steve purrs, which only serves to make the heat in Bucky’s face worse. “Let me put him down,” he murmurs, kissing Bucky’s neck one last time before moving forward to take Gabe. Bucky hands him over with a tired hum, letting his eyes slip closed again while Steve is gone. 

He’s surprised when he drifts off to sleep and the next thing he’s aware of is Steve crawling back into the bed with him. “Mmhh, I fell asleep.”

“I can see that.”

“He go down okay?”

“Yep.” Steve pulls him into his arms and lies down with him, kissing his forehead. “You make me so happy, Buck,” he whispers. He trails kisses down his face until he reaches his lips, then presses gentle pecks there until he’s able to coax his way inside for more. He makes out with him lazily, humming in pleasure as Bucky softens and starts to respond to it. He lets one hand roam his body, trailing up and down the omega’s side, then squeezing his waist. “You tired?” he whispers.

Bucky smirks with his eyes closed. “M’ always tired.”

Steve hums in agreement and kisses him some more. “He slept through the night last night.”

“Yeah. Don’t jinx it. Maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

“Want to fool around?” Steve murmurs, already kissing along his jaw towards his neck again. His big hands roam Bucky’s body, caressing his waist and circling behind to grab at his ass. “I miss you.”

Bucky sighs in pleasure, nodding. “I’m fucking tired,” he murmurs—very pointedly not a ‘no’—then shivers when Steve rolls over to cover him with his body, pressing one firm, thick thigh up between his legs. Bucky groans tiredly. “Ohh, Honey.”

“I’ll do all the work,” Steve promises, whispering the words against his neck in a conspiratorial way that makes Bucky chuckle. Steve kisses his bonding gland again. “Mmm, promise. You can just lie here and feel good.”

“Or fall asleep,” Bucky mutters, though as Steve presses his thigh down and rolls his hips, the odds of that happening significantly diminish. Bucky smiles with his eyes still closed and digs his skull back into the pillow, shivering full-body as he feels his dick waking up. “Mm, Stevie. Yeah. Make me feel good?”

“Course,” Steve whispers, before sealing his mouth over the sensitive tissue of Bucky’s bond scar. He hums in pleasure as he sucks hard, coaxing the gland underneath to swell and grow closer to the skin with arousal. He fits his teeth to the shape of it, biting in a quick, sharp nip that makes Bucky gasp. 

“Oh! Steve …”

“You remember what the doctor said,” he teases, scraping his teeth over the spit-wet skin. “Hm? ‘Bout the ways Alpha can help you feel good?”

“Ohh, mm hm.” Bucky’s O.B. and his therapist have told them that stimulation of the glands can help relieve some of the effects of postpartum depression—including regular sex and penetrating bites from a bondmate. They've tried the latter but not the former, but Steve has been more than keen on the idea of helping his omega in both ways.

“What do you say, baby?” he asks, licking and kissing all over his bond scar. “Hm? It's all healed up from last time. Can I?”

Bucky whimpers, weak from the rush of arousal that always comes at hearing Steve ask for this. “Nnn,” he whines uselessly, rolling his body up against the alpha’s bulk. “Ssteve,” he slurs, “Nnn, don’t.”

“Aw, why not?” he coos lazily, still mouthing at that spot. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” He moves up to whisper in Bucky’s ear: “I know how hard it makes you cum when I time it just right.”

Bucky moans pitifully. He tries to remember what his reason for protesting it is, but it’s hard. “It’s almost—oh! mmm—s’almost Thanksgiving. W-we, um … T-tony’s parties, n’ the Turkey Trot …”

Steve lets his teeth drag over the glands again. “Fuck the Turkey Trot. So what? I love seeing you fresh with my mark. And this way everyone else will too. They’ll see it and they’ll know you’re mine. Know I was probably fucking you while I did it, claimin’ you all over again.” His voice is rough and gravelly by the end, full of heat and possession. “You got any idea how much I like that?”

“Hnhh,” Bucky breathes, unable to argue against that reasoning. “Okay.”

“Good boy,” Steve purrs, eliciting another pathetic whine from his mate. Bucky can practically feel Steve’s satisfied grin as he continues to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, mouth never leaving his bonding glands for long. “Smell so fuckin’ good, momma,” he groans, and this time rather than protest the endearment, Bucky keens at the way Steve says it: like Bucky being the mother of his children is the sexiest, most wonderful thing imaginable. Steve keeps kissing a path down his neck and shoulder, over his collarbone and chest, stopping when he reaches the level of his pecs and sealing his mouth to a nipple—the same place where their baby was nursing not even ten minutes ago. 

Bucky shivers in sensitivity and blushes like a madman, his hands flying up to tangle in Steve’s hair. “Nnh, Steve, wait, oh …”

Steve groans and rubs his cheek against his chest, the drag of his facial hair and his hot breath making Bucky’s nipples harden into tight nubs. He brings a hand up to cup one swollen pec and mouths openly at the other, groaning as he stares greedily.  “Fuck, baby, look at you.”

“Steve,” Bucky pants. “Nnn,”

“Mm mn, no. Hush. Just let me play with ‘em.”

Bucky continues to whine about it, but a hardening dick and a leaking asshole don’t lie, and Steve knows him too well to let him get away with such shallow evasion at this point in their marriage.

He settles in for the long feast, humming and grunting in pleasure between kisses and sucks to Bucky’s chest, alternating sides and squeezing whatever he isn’t mouthing over at the moment. “God, baby,” he says between one kiss and the next. “Wish you’d stay like this. Love your body like this. So soft, just for me.”

“Fuck, Steve.”

“Mmhm. Could keep you like this forever. All needy and sensitive.” He traps Bucky’s nipple between his lips and sucks, hard, and Bucky feels that tingly sensation and knows what’s going to happen a second before it does. His hands fly to Steve’s head and he cries out, but there’s no time for him to warn his husband before his body lets out a tiny spurt of breastmilk. Steve only pauses for a second, his mouth still on him, and then he groans loudly against Bucky’s chest. He sucks again, huffing in enjoyment, then lifts up and meets Bucky’s gaze with lust-blown eyes. “Oh honey,” he whispers, sounding devastated. “I almost forgot how sweet you are.”

Bucky’s brain is kind of short circuiting at the sheen on Steve’s lips, wet from his very own breast milk. “Shit,” he exhales shakily. “Alpha.”

Steve growls and drops back down to suck on him some more. Bucky can only lie there and take it, his head tossing on the pillow and hands gripping Steve’s hair as the alpha makes a playground of his chest. Bucky whines and complains, but truth be told there’s something small and squirmy inside of him that secretly loves it when his husband indulges in his body this way. It makes him feel wanted and beautiful, reminds him that Steve loves every part of him, even when Bucky himself doesn’t. “Leave—aah—leave some for the baby,” he eventually manages to say, laughing between pleasured groans and gasps. 

Steve pulls off and comes up to kiss him, tongue swiping past Bucky’s lips and leaving the taste of himself behind. Bucky’s breathing shakily by the time they part, and Steve’s eyes flit over his face. “You okay?” he asks, so sincere in his care for Bucky that it makes Bucky want to give him everything. 

“Yes Alpha,” he whispers, reaching up with his flesh hand and cupping Steve’s jaw with it. “I just love you stupid-much, is all.”

“Stupid much?”

“Mm, yeah, it’s pretty stupid.”

Steve surges down to kiss him thoroughly once more “See?” he teases, knocking their foreheads together. “All that moping didn’t curdle the milk after all.” Bucky huffs and swats at him, and Steve grins and rolls away. “Hang on one sec.” He gets up to undress, and by the time he’s crawling back into bed naked, Bucky’s kicked off his pajama pants as well. Steve slides right back into the cradle of his hips. Between their bellies, his cock is hard, but he makes no move to address it, focused on his mate instead. “What do you want tonight?” he asks gently, tracing Bucky's face on one side and then the other. “Hm? We can do anything you want. Whatever makes you feel good.” 

Bucky softens, in love. That’s how it’s been these past four months: Steve being careful, trying so hard to respect any boundaries, to let Bucky take the lead as they find their way back to intimacy as husbands. Problem is, most days Bucky doesn’t know what he wants. He swallows thickly and rasps out a quiet, “I just wanna feel you.”

Steve hums. He tucks the recently-shortened strands of Bucky’s hair aside, eyes flicking from one ruined ear to the other, amazing Bucky with how his gaze never waivers with any hint of distaste at the mutilated flesh. It’s just love he sees in him. “I think that can be arranged.”

He kisses him, long and languid and indulgent, the kind of kiss that takes its time and never really escalates, more intimate than it has any right to be. By the time he’s kissing down Bucky’s body to put his mouth on his prick, Bucky’s a leaking, mewling mess. 

“Ssteve,” he slurs as he watches his husband’s blond head of hair dip down between his legs and feels his mouth engulf him in sudden, overwhelming warmth. “Oh God.” Bucky’s eyes slip shut and he digs his skull back into the pillow, exhaling through clenched teeth at how good it feels. Steve hums from around his mouthful and Bucky hurriedly grasps at his hair. “Nnn, don’t,” he hisses, trying to calm down even as his hips are shoving up at Steve’s face. “Don’t hum like that, Jesus Christ.”

Steve laughs and pulls off to look up at him. He kisses Bucky’s cockhead and winks. “Sorry. I was just enjoying myself.” Keeping eye contact, he suckles and laves over just the head of Bucky’s dick, then uses his hold at the base to tap it against the flat of his tongue several times. 

“Fuck.” Bucky pants and screws his eyes shut. “It’s been too long. I can’t hold it.”

“Who says you need to hold it?” Steve kisses his hipbone. “Cum as many times as you want to, Sweetheart. As many times as you need.”

Bucky groans. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is.” He goes back to Bucky’s cock, pushing hard at one of his thighs to force him to widen his legs even further. “There we go, good boy. Keep ‘em spread.” 

Bucky peeks down at Steve and sees him staring at … everything. 

Oh. … Oh.

He swallows nervously. It’s been over four months now, and he’s had the go-ahead from the doctor since all the way back at his six-week checkup, but Bucky’s still been self-conscious. They've resumed some recreational activities, but Steve still hasn’t asked to have sex yet. Bucky’s pretty sure he’s waiting for him to initiate. “H-how’s it looking down there?” he asks, trying to insert levity into his tone and failing pretty spectacularly. “Everything … everything good?” 

“Mmm.” Steve caresses his balls, pushing them up and out of the way, feasibly so that he can stare at his perineum and further back to his weeping, clenching hole. “It’s winking at me,” he says, making Bucky’s face go red hot.

“You know what I mean,” he huffs, knocking his heel against Steve’s back halfheartedly. “How’s it … how’s it look?”

Steve hums and pretends to consider it very seriously, moving in even closer. “Looks perfect,” he says, a touch more arousal in his voice this time. And he’s so close now that Bucky can feel the heat of his breath against his skin. Steve’s finger touches just behind his balls and glides all the way back along his taint, up and down, tracing the line of where Bucky knows the stitches were. “All healed up,” he murmurs, sounding pleased. “Pretty and pink.”

Bucky snorts and makes a face. “Yeah, right. Don’t worry Steve, I’ve read all the reality check articles.”

“The what?”

“Stuff on the internet for new mothers. On how wrecked you are after giving birth. They say it’s especially rough on male O’s, and I’ve popped two of these things out, so.” He grimaces. “I think they have like, lasers or something that they can use to try and fix it, or at least make it look nicer.”

“What?” Steve sounds shocked. “Babe. What are you talking about?”

Bucky huffs, not wanting Steve’s false platitudes. “I’m just trying to be realistic, okay?” He squirms impatiently and refuses to look down at the alpha between his legs. “So? Does it look like … ya know, very messed up?” 

Steve’s tensing shoulders and his low growl are the only warnings Bucky gets before his husband’s mouth is sealing itself straight over his taint and sucking ferociously, the accompanying rumble of his growl only intensifying the feeling.

Bucky yelps. “Holy fuck!” His body jolts in place, trying to bow off the bed, but Steve holds him still with strong arms wrapped around his thighs. “Sh-hit,” he gasps, “Steve!”

“You want to know what it looks like?” Steve growls, pulling back with a filthy-wet sound and a voice that’s furious and rough-edged and determined. “It looks like the cunt of the omega who gave me my children. Looks like the cunt I wanna spend the rest of my life fucking, stuffing full of my cock, my cum, my knot … my tongue.” He surges back in, taking turns between tongue-fucking his hole and sucking on his rim as brutally as he can, making loud grunts and groans in the process that are very clearly meant to drive a point home. “Mmph, mmm, hhmph!” 

Bucky gasps and keens, overwrought by Steve’s words just as much as he is by the feeling of his mouth. He doesn’t even consciously think about it as he grabs his cock and starts jerking off, Steve groaning loudly against his ass when he realizes what Bucky’s doing. It only takes another minute of that before he’s coming, riding Steve’s face as his cock pulses in his hand and wets up his belly in spurts of clear omega cum. 

“Oh God, oh, ohh …” His breath hitches in broken moans as he rides the orgasm out. Then the pleasure wanes and he slowly comes back down to earth, panting and dazed, blinking up at nothing but the blank plaster of their bedroom ceiling …

Until Steve reappears in his field of vision, having climbed back up to lie over him once again. Bucky welcomes the press of his alpha’s heavy body on top of him, accepts the slick-tinged flavor of Steve’s tongue when he slots their mouths together and shoves inside, demanding and harsh. “That was number one,” he says, when he’s pulled back and is looking down at Bucky with a satisfied expression. “How many more you gonna give me tonight?”

Internally, Bucky curses. He curses, dies a little bit, and falls deeper in love all at the same time. Meanwhile, externally, he regains his breath and meets Steve’s hungry stare. “I’ve got a feeling you’re gonna wear me out more than the baby,” he says, aiming for a wry drawl but only achieving something that sounds breathless and wrecked instead. He sees Steve’s eyes darken the way they do whenever he’s issued a challenge, and knows he’s in for a hell of a night. “What’re you thinking?” he whispers.

“I’m thinking: I want to see that again, and again,” Steve rasps, voice gone to gravel. “Thinking I want to watch you lose control like that all the goddamn time. For the rest of my life.”

Bucky flushes. “Steve …”

“I’m thinking: that I want to make you feel good in every possible way there is to feel good.” His lips ghost over Bucky’s as he murmurs, “So that you know. Because you clearly don’t—”

“Steve …”

“And so that you never feel like you need to ask me a question about what you ‘look like’ ever again. Not on any part of your beautiful body.”

Bucky groans and tries to turn his face away, But Steve catches him and guides him back with a gentle hand on his cheek. “Uh uh, Sweetheart. You listen to me. I want to make love to you. Until you can’t take it anymore, until you go soft and weak and cryin’ with it.” His hands start wandering over the peaks and valleys of Bucky’s body, caressing his skin. One hand moulds itself to the side of his neck, fingers playing over the texture of his bondmark, while the other glides down, pausing to stop and tweak a nipple, squeeze his waist, grab the fleshy curve of a hip. Very purposefully, he slides his hand to settle into place over his lower belly, hushing him when he feels him start to tense up. “Shh sh sh. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Steve, I’m … it’s —”

“Shhh.” He nudges their noses together, chiding and affectionate all at once, because he knows which parts of his body Bucky is most self-conscious of. But he doesn’t move his hand from the territory it’s claimed. “I know,” he whispers. “I know how you feel. But that’s all wrong, baby. And I want to show you.” He kisses him again, only this time it’s tender, almost achingly so. He relents and pulls back. “That’s all, Honey. I just want to make you feel new things, good things. I want to show you. I need to show you.” 

“Show me what?” Bucky whispers, but then Steve stares down at him in that dark and private way that he deeply, intimately recognizes, and he regrets having asked. Bucky trembles and closes his eyes. “Steve, please. You don’t have to …” 

“Look at me,” Steve murmurs. He rests their foreheads together. “I just want you to understand, baby. That when I touch you here,"—his fingers curl possessively into the too-soft flesh of Bucky’s stomach—“I feel something so profound, so far beyond just love or arousal … that I don’t even know what to say to you. You understand? It hurts. I don’t have words for it.” He looks at him imploringly. “You couldn’t be more beautiful than you are to me right now.”

Bucky’s heart beats faster at the intimate confession. He tries to suck his stomach in, tries to tense his abdominals and make himself firm, but Steve tuts at him and pinches the side of his neck, right over his swollen glands. Bucky gasps, eyes shooting back up from where he’d been starting to look down between their bodies at Steve’s hand on him. “I wasn’t.”

“Look at me,” Steve says, and this time it’s in his Voice, the sound of it sending an instant shot of arousal down Bucky’s spine and into his core. His eyes must show it, too, because Steve smiles and purrs deep in his chest. “Yeah,” he encourages, still in the Voice that he so rarely uses with Bucky. “That’s right. Look up here at Alpha. Do as you’re told.”

Bucky licks his lips, aware that his cock is rapidly hardening again. “Steve,” he breathes shakily. “I —”

“Pull your knees up,” he murmurs, and Bucky obeys without a second thought. “Good boy.”

A chirp erupts from Bucky’s throat, unbidden, and he colors in surprise at the sound. “Alpha,” he says, because it’s the only word he can think to say.

Steve smiles and strokes over his bond mark with the roughened pad of a thumb. “Does it feel nice? Want more?”

Bucky nods, blinking, the effects of Steve’s Voice still singing in his veins like a drug. “Yeah.” 

They hardly ever engage in Voiceplay. It’s something Bucky enjoys with his husband, but he’s had bad experiences with other alphas in the past; times when men who weren't Steve assaulted him with what should only ever be used as a tool of lovemaking. Steve knows this, and so he usually avoids Voicing with Bucky unless he knows that the circumstances are just right.

The circumstances are just right. 

Bucky whimpers and reaches down impulsively to cover Steve’s hand where it rests on his belly, but not to pull it away. “Alpha,” he chirps again, fingers curling over Steve’s larger ones.

“This okay?” Steve checks, his eyes scanning his face for even a hint of discomfort. 

But he finds none, and Bucky nods his head in fast approval. “Yeah, yes.”

It’s still achingly vulnerable, having Steve touching this soft, imperfect part of him; but it’s intimate, too, and Bucky wants more of that. He wants Steve to make love to him this way, an Alpha with his omega—capital A, lowercase o.

“S’been so long,” he breathes, his voice hitching as his emotions finally catch up with him. Ridiculously, he starts to feel tearful. He’s missed having this with his mate so much. “So long, Stevie.”

“Baby,” Steve coos. “Don’t cry.”

Bucky sniffles shyly and tucks his face into Steve’s neck, feeling stupid. “Can’t help it,” he mumbles.

Steve’s fingers massage his bond mark and he kisses his temple soothingly. The hand that was on his stomach snakes around, dipping underneath his lower back and tugging them even closer together. “You gonna let me?” he asks. “Gonna let Alpha make you cum again and again?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Gonna let me give you another bite, make it a good one? Mark you up again for everybody to see?”

Bucky whines and nods, drawing his knees up, wrapping his legs around Steve’s hips and tilting his pelvis to make himself available to his mate. “Please,” he begs. “Please, yes, Steve. I want it, please.”

Steve rumbles deep in his chest and slots their mouths together in a brief, aggressive kiss, then pulls back swiftly and manhandles him onto his belly, pulling him up by the hips into presenting. Bucky cries out in surprise but goes willingly, widening his knees on the bed and pushing his ass back into Steve’s groping hands. “Good boy,” Steve praises, Voice dipping down into that register that’s low and rumbly and lets Bucky know that his Alpha is very pleased with him.

Bucky grunts and wiggles happily until Steve’s hand appears at the back of his neck and pushes down: a wordless, forceful ‘Stay’ that makes him shiver and whine with impatience. “Nnnh.”

The hand flattens at his nape and slowly drags down the length of his spine, appreciative and greedy. “Aw, Sweetheart,” Steve breathes, hips rocking forward. “You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect, y’hear me?” He curses quietly as he digs his fingers into the fat of Bucky’s hips, watches his cock dragging through the wet valley of his ass. “Jesus wept, Honey. Lookit you. Wet dream come to fucking life, I swear.”

Steve only curses this much when he’s incredibly turned on, and the knowledge that it’s his doing has Bucky slicking up even worse than before. He whines and scrubs his face against the bedding as he feels his hole pulse and leak, the slick tickling as it trails down his taint and balls. “Steve,” he pleads, relieved when Steve grabs his hips and continues to take control.

“Shh, s’okay, you’re okay. I’m gonna give you what you need. Gonna take it slow.” His fingers appear at his backside, slipping through all the slick, wetting them up in him. He starts to press in with one finger. “Real slow,” he murmurs. He fucks him on just that one finger, for far longer than he would normally do, taking his time in Bucky’s body, in relearning this touch with him. Bucky makes a miserable noise against the bedsheets and Steve hums, pleased. “Yeah? How’s that feel, Sweetheart?”

Bucky whines and nods, his cheek dragging on the sheets. He feels Steve curling over him, his chest pressing up against his back and then the finger sliding deeper. Bucky moans as it grazes over his prostate. “Oh, God.”

“Uh huh.” Steve’s breath hits right at his ear. He plants his left forearm alongside Bucky’s, holding himself up as he fingers him. Right next to Bucky’s face, their pinky fingers hook together, flesh over metal. Steve kisses the shell of his ear and whispers, “Bucky, honey. You’re so swollen inside, I can feel it.” He strokes his finger, curling gently over that spot that makes Bucky’s vision go blotchy. “I want you to cum like this first,” he whispers. “On my hand a couple’a times. Right on Alpha’s fingers. Okay?”

Bucky sobs and nods. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Steve, please.” He can feel the orgasm coalescing already, the pleasure of Steve’s finger pulling him closer on every pass. “Please, please.”

“Shhh. Remember: slow,” he reminds him, and Bucky’s guts twist up in further delicious arousal and frustration. Steve doesn’t try to edge him, though. He lets him have it, working him up to it steadily, not rushing, kissing his neck again and again as he fucks him on one finger and then two.

That added fullness is what makes Bucky unravel, his body pulsing as he gasps and suddenly falls into his second orgasm.

Steve talks him through it, never stopping the whispered encouragements against his ear: “There we go. That’s it, baby, that’s it. So good.”

Bucky collapses to his stomach, and Steve follows him down, gently nudging his knees inside of Bucky’s to make a space for himself. Bucky complies, boneless from his climax. “Stevie,” he slurs. 

“Right here, baby.” He presses up all along his back, covering him with warmth. “I’m right here.” His hands slide up Bucky’s arms and cover his hands at either side of his head. Bucky moans quietly as Steve laces their fingers together and gives a squeeze. “Hey, gorgeous.” He rolls his hips, cock slotting into place. “You’re so wet.”

“Y-yeah.”

Steve rocks leisurely against him and Bucky hums at how slick it is, enjoying the intimacy of rubbing together full-body. He lets his eyes slip closed as he soaks it all in: Steve’s heavy weight, his scent, the scratch of his beard and the heat of his breath in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He wishes they could stay like this forever.

“You feel so good,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” Steve drags his lips over the sensitive skin of his bondmark. “Can I fuck you, baby?” he asks softly. “You want that, hm? Want Alpha inside of you?”

Bucky is glad that Steve can’t see his face, because his eyes are wet from pleasured, overly-emotional tears, and this way he doesn’t have to bother being embarrassed over what a sap this pregnancy has turned him into. He nods and scrubs his cheek against the bedcovers. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, Steve. Please.”

Steve hums and kisses him once more, before he reaches down and lines his cock up, dragging the head wetly across his rim a few times with increasing pressure, until it catches. Bucky tenses, because it’s been so long since they’ve done this, and because the last event of real significance that involved his asshole had been childbirth, but Steve soothes him with a sucking kiss to his bondmark. “Relax,” he murmurs, pushing in at the same time and making Bucky gasp softly. “Shh, there you go. See?” 

“Ohh.” Bucky’s eyelids flutter as he’s slowly filled. “Steve.”

“Uh huh.” Steve’s hips kiss his ass as he sinks home all the way. “Juust like that,” he purrs, grinding against him and staying deep inside. “S’it feel nice?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky breathes, lips parted and eyes closed, brow furrowed at how full he is. “Yeah, Stevie … oh …” 

Steve chuckles and kisses his shoulder. “You feel amazing,” he whispers, before he experiments with moving a little more. He keeps pulsing his hips, rocking languidly, gradually building up to a slow pace.

He fucks him gently then, not pulling back to get on his knees or gain any kind of leverage. Instead he stays close, deep; plastered to his back and dragging his cock against his sensitive insides over and over so perfectly. When it pulls a tortured moan from Bucky's throat, Steve encourages him with soft, sucking kisses against his glands. “S’okay.”

“God, Steve.”

“Uh huh. Juust like that. I remember how you like it. Alpha's got you, baby.” Steve sounds like he’s getting close, too, voice laboured as he grunts against Bucky’s neck. “You gonna, ugh, gonna cum again, mamma?”

Bucky whines and nods. “This time,” he begs. “Please, please. Do it.”

The two of them share a bond, and that’s probably the main reason why Steve’s able to tell what he means.

He doesn’t disappoint, either, fucking him smoothly right into another orgasm and timing it perfectly. As soon as Bucky’s body goes rigid and his breath stutters in his throat, Steve’s biting down hard over his bondmark, breaking the skin and piercing the swollen glands beneath. Bucky sobs and comes harder and longer than he has in a long time, crying from how impossibly good it feels.

It’s compounded by the sudden groan that Steve lets out and the rapid inflation of his knot, as the bite sets him off as well: “Nngh!”

While Steve is stuck inside him and lost to his own pleasure, Bucky’s able to rock himself to one more, toe-curlingly delicious orgasm before he finally lets himself go boneless on the bed, fully sated. He knows when Steve is done coming, because the alpha becomes more attentive again, his hands running over Bucky like he’s checking him for injuries sustained. If Bucky hadn’t just come four times, he might've been able to spare a chuckle over it. “Hey,” he says instead. “M’fine, babe.”

“Yeah?” Steve sounds pleased. He gives his hips a lazy roll against Bucky’s ass and nuzzles his freshly-bitten bondmark, groaning at the pheromones that hit him. He licks a big, fat swipe over it with his tongue, groaning and making Bucky hiss. “Mmm," he murmurs. "You’re bleeding."

“Duh.” 

Steve growls. “Be nice to your Alpha,” he Voices, and  Bucky shivers pleasantly. Steve notices the reaction and gloats. “Hmm. Maybe we should start biting more often.”

“How often?” Bucky’s halfway through a yawn as he says it, and he feels Steve shrug against his back. 

“Once a month?”

He chokes. “Steve!”

“What?” Steve’s snickering. “I like a well-scarred bondmark. S’romantic.” 

“It’s fucking primeval is what it is, you caveman.” Bucky scolds, rolling his eyes. He clenches down purposefully hard on Steve’s knot, smiling at the surprised—Hngnn!—he gets for it. “We already do it on our anniversary every year.”

“And sometimes on Valentine’s,” Steve supplies.

“Exactly. Any more than that and people’ll think we have a fetish.”

“Well, maybe we do,” he purrs, kissing the bite. “And it is what the medical professionals are recommending, after all.”

“Ha, yeah.” 

“... You’re really okay though?” Steve checks. “None of that bothered you? The Voicing, or the—”

“Shh. No. I loved it.” Bucky lets his eyes fall closed. He can still feel his pulse thrumming beneath his skin, bringing the delicious ache and throb of his glands to the forefront. “Every part of it,” he sighs.

Steve laces their fingers together. “Good. ‘Cause I take doctor's orders very seriously, you know.” He rumbles deep in his chest and gives a dirty grind against their tie. “We gotta keep you healthy, Buck. Gotta make sure you’re properly … stimulated.” 

“You suck so bad,” Bucky groans. “Your permission to know my medical information is rescinded.”

“Aw, don’t be that way. I can dick you down again in like, an hour, if you want? Probably. Two hours, tops.”

Bucky yawns, humming as he pretends to consider it. “Tempting offer, but how ‘bout you cuddle me ‘till I pass out, instead?” he says, because he really does think the other night was a fluke, and that he’s destined to be awakened by a baby monitor within the next few hours. Steve wraps his strong arms around him and pulls them to lie on their sides. They spoon like that and enjoy the closeness while they wait for Steve’s knot to go down. Bucky gets goosebumps when Steve starts caressing lazily up and down his side. “Mm, that’s nice.”

“Mmhm.” Steve slots his fingers into the trigger points for the prosthetic. “Let’s take this off,” he whispers, kissing the shell of his ear. 

It’s Bucky’s fucked up ear—a place where he’s usually squirmy and uncomfortable about Steve touching, let alone kissing, but right now it doesn’t bother him at all. Too many endorphins surging through his system, he supposes.

“Okay,” he agrees, since he doesn’t really love sleeping with the arm on anyway (he’s got this paranoia that one day he’ll sleep-punch Steve in the middle of a nightmare or something), and then lies there and listens to the sounds that the arm makes as it’s triggered to disengage from his body. He can’t actually feel anything other than some vague, mechanical movements deep in the arm’s very internal workings. It doesn’t hurt. And then it comes off, a sudden release of weight and tension that Bucky hadn’t even realized was there. He moans quietly at the feeling. “Nnh. Thanks Stevie.”

“You’re welcome.” Steve sets the arm out of the way and resumes his gentle stroking and caressing along Bucky's side, venturing up higher to where the anchor site for the arm begins, implanted permanently into his body.

Bucky can sense his husband looking down at it, can feel the pads of his fingers exploring thoughtfully over the texture of scars and metal edging. He sighs, feeling wistful. “Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like, if we’d met before?”

Behind him, Steve stills. He’s quiet for a long moment, and just when Bucky thinks he’s not going to answer at all, his caressing starts back up again and he hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. “Sometimes, in a general way," he admits. "But then ... it wouldn't be the you I fell in love with, would it? We wouldn’t be us.” He worms his other arm under his waist and hugs them closer together. “Maybe we’d have less nightmares between the two of us, less therapy,"

Bucky snorts.

"But I wouldn’t choose anything but this. Nothing would be the same if we hadn't met the way we did, y'know? You probably would’ve stayed in college, focused on your career, maybe put off kids too long. I wouldn't have joined Shield, Peggy wouldn't have moved away.” He kisses the ruined edge of Bucky’s ear again, so tender and slow that Bucky knows he’s doing it intentionally. “Just think: Becca wouldn’t exist. And we wouldn’t have Sarah or Gabe, 'cause you and I never would’ve met.”

“We might’ve.”

“Mm, doubtful.” 

Bucky grumbles, displeased at that hypothetical, and Steve hugs him and coos in agreement, “Shh. I know, I know. That would be awful. I’m just saying: you can’t trade the good for the bad. It’s a package deal. And you know what? I’m happy with my package.” He seals his mouth to the fresh bite wound and gives a powerful suck, popping off with a wet sound and a pleased growl. “Very very happy with my package.”

Bucky’s too gooey and in love and fucked out to get the delivery just right, but he at least manages to wiggle his butt against their tie and mutter out a tired but saucy little, “Mmm, yeah. I like your package, too.”

Masterlist

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[felidlycanthr0pe]

Stirring the Pot

Bingo Masterlist

Pairing: Ino Takuma/Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 749

Warnings: none

Summary: Someone seems to have made an error in the mission accommodations- but not in the way they think.

A/N: Created for @anyfandomfluffbingo / Square(s) Filled: Sharing a Bed

Powerful sorcerer or no, most of your coworkers were idiots. When you went out on a mission, most of the time you expected to be treated like glass. Being a grade two sorcerer, you were clearly in danger of exploding at any given moment.

So when you were placed on an away mission with Ino, you were quick to take the keys from the desk attendant and navigate to the room. Better to spare everyone involved with the ‘no, I’ve got it’ before it got to an unbearably cyclical level. 

“I think we’re supposed to turn…” Ino spun in a circle, squinting at the walls as he attempted to place your room number. 

“Right here,” you said, pointing at the hallway labeled with your room number. “I got it.”

“Y’always do, don’t you,” he said with a small smile. 

You hummed in response, stopping in front of the door. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” you responded, sliding the keycard over the handle. It clicked open and you shoved your bag through. “Clearly.”

Upon closer inspection, the room itself was neat. Not too traditional, and a little bit on the higher end side. It was a retrieval mission, you supposed, so there might have been some comfort given to whoever you were transporting tomorrow morning. 

There was, however, one glaring feature of the room. 

“Only one?” Ino raised an eyebrow at you. “How scandalous. Whoever could have thought it was appropriate to put two coworkers in one bed?” He dropped his bag in the entry way and shoved off his sneakers before unceremoniously flopping backward onto the bed. 

You gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “How dare they?” Dropping your bag and shoes in a similar fashion, you fell backwards onto the bed, head lolling to the side to smile at Ino. “What are we gonna do about such a horrible situation?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed as he rolled to cage his arms over you. “Someone’s gonna have to pay for this.” 

“Pay for this?” You laughed. “You make it sound like you’re gonna take out a hit on someone for trying to stir the pot.”

“Oh, the pot’s been stirred,” he replied with a grin, “there’s drama now. We have beef. You talk in your sleep. You left the toilet seat up. Total anarchy.”

You laughed, “why would I leave the seat up? That’s totally a ‘you’ thing.” 

“Nuh uh,” he replied, “it’s a you thing. How dare you? It’s just so annoying.”

“Right,” you shot back, “sorry to be such a nuisance. I’m just so unused to living with other people. And sleeping in one bed? Just…horrible for my REM cycle. I definitely sleep better when I’m alone, obviously.” 

He rolled his eyes, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your collarbone. “See, I don’t even like it when you jokingly suggest it,” he muttered against your skin. 

You rolled your eyes, pulling off his hood to run your fingers through his hair. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m more laughing at the fact that Gojo really thinks that this is him ‘stirring the pot’ or whatever he wants to call it. I mean, does he seriously not know?”

“Nah, he knows,” you replied simply with a sigh. “He thinks he’s being annoying, though.”

“So annoying,” Ino mutters, “how dare he give me more than a dorm bed to sleep with my partner in?”

“Sleep with? Making assumptions, are we?” You raised an eyebrow at him as Ino raised his head to give you a look. You rolled your eyes in response. “They’re the right assumptions, obviously. God, just let me have my sarcasm, would you?”

Ino hummed, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “No, don’t think I will.”

You rolled your eyes, gently pressing him away. He pouted, falling to the side and staying face down in the bed. “You coming?”

He shook his head. 

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips. “Damn, guess I’m just gonna have to shower alone. Oh, well.”

Ino clicked his tongue and rolled to his feet. He grinned as he stepped toward you, pressing you backward with a single finger as he added, “and there’s only one shower, how dare they?” 

You only rolled your eyes in response, even if a fond smile had plastered itself across your face. Sharing a bed was normally a piece of cake, so why should saving a bit of water be any different?

[sunflower1me]

Title: At The Riverbed Pairing: Wallace/Winona/Steven aka Sabotageshipping (Pokemon) Rating: (General/Teen/Mature/Explicit): General Word Count: 970 Warnings: Blood, blood loss, injury, stitches Summary: A visit to the river gets cut short when Wallace has a nasty fall. Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo​​ / Square Filled "Split Lip"

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Created for @whumperless-whump-event Day 1

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Created for @hurtcomfort-bingo "Pick Your Poison" / Square Filled "Recovery"

@polyamships

Ao3 + Bingo Images Under the cut!

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Paws for Applause - Chapter Four Drever

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes(&) x Original Nonbinary Character(&) (Soldierbug&, pluralpoly)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The boys begin to open up, and a storm is coming.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 6358

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Mentions of abuse and trauma, nightmares.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers by us! Cards at the end <3

<- Chapter Three Chapter Five ->

Prompts at end because there's a lot siesefesfjsef

I woke slowly, blinking my way into consciousness with a flickering of eyelashes and a prolonged stretch. The cotton beneath my cheek was sleep-warmed and softened with age, and I let out a quiet sigh, burrowing deeper into the material, reluctant to face the sunlight.

“Good morning, Темнота.” Gentle fingers caressed my hair, and I blushed, hiding a smile in their shirt.

“Hi,” I whispered, embarrassed at having been caught so vulnerable, but happy with the situation in which I’d found myself. I glanced up at them through my lashes, finding them grinning affectionately down at me, one arm still tight around me, their cell in their other hand. “Did you sleep at all? I hope you didn’t stay up all night ‘cause of me…”

The chuckled softly, offering me a gentle squeeze. “I slept, don’t worry. You cuddle in pretty well; I don’t think I could’ve stayed awake if I’d wanted to!” They lapsed into silence once more, fingers teasing my hair, and I purred, watching them closely.

“… Whatcha doing?” I asked as I tracked their eyes skimming over their screen, blushing at my nosiness. “Not that you… I mean, you don’t gotta tell me. Obviously.”

With a snort, they rested their cheek on my hair. “Reading. It’s about fairy tales, folklore… It’s interesting!”

I smiled and nestled closer, yawning widely. “Will you read to me?”

Their cheeks pinkened minutely, but they nodded, clearing their throat uncertainly.

“Come away, O, human child! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand…”

My eyes closed of their own volition as I burrowed in, fingers curling in their shirt to hold myself nearer, and they paused. “… Wanna go and settle in on the bed? You might be more comfortable…”

My nod was subtle but sure; this strange person who had appeared quite without warning in our lives and shook up everything we thought we knew was an unexplainable tranquiliser, soothing my soul and calming my mind.

I trusted them without hesitation.

Despite the anxiety warring in my head, Winter and Bucky murmuring their concerns, I allowed Mars to manoeuvre me gently into position between the sheets. My hand shot out instinctively as they went to back away, eyes low. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered, and they paused infinitesimally before nodding, sliding in beside me and wrapping an arm around me as my head found their chest.

I let out a quiet, contented sigh, curling into their side, their cheek resting lightly on my hair.

“Where the wandering water gushes,” they continued, their melodic, friendly tone a balm to the ragged edges of my psyche, “From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes, That scarce could bathe a star…”

By the time I re-emerged from the darkness, the candle had gone out, and Mars was snoring lightly, their phone having fallen against their chest. With a soft smile, I gazed up at them in wonder, following the lines and curves of their open, honest face, enraptured.

Their long lashes fluttered and parted slowly, forehead creasing into a subtle scowl. “No flight checks…” they muttered, eyes closing once more, and I snorted aloud. One eye opened again, taking me in, and they smiled tiredly. “Hm?”

“‘Flight checks’?” I repeated, biting back a giggle, and their cheeks turned pink.

“My get-up routine,” they clarified timidly, one side of their mouth rising in a shy grin. “I need an established series of tasks, or else I get distracted, and forget to do… Well, anything that needs doing, really…”

I hummed and nodded thoughtfully, head cocking slightly against their shoulder. “I think Bucky could use something like that…” I mused, grinning as he snorted in the back of my mind, though quickly murmuring his agreement. “He gets distracted pretty easily.”

“I know the feeling,” they replied, chuckling, and let out a long stretch, groaning aloud. “Alright… As much as I love a good lazy Sunday, I do actually have a few responsibilities to attend to, even if the store’s not open.”

“Gross,” I replied, grinning, but sat up obediently to let them free.

“You, uh… You can come with. If you like,” they added quickly, blushing once more. My own cheeks flushed as I nodded shyly, looking away to pet Zeus as a distraction for my embarrassment.

“I’d like that,” I replied timidly, almost overheating from the scalding blush in my face, and they broke into a broad grin.

Zeus was already beginning to learn the path to the store, and the realisation made me giggle as he fought to drag me along, Mars chuckling fondly. “We really need to start on some training with him, huh?” they mused, head cocked.

“Maybe,” I agreed, squealing with laughter as his feet scrabbled against the ground eagerly. “But he’s so happy!”

“I think he’ll maybe be happier when getting to the end of the street doesn’t exhaust him,” they countered, laughing, and I grinned back, glancing back at the mastiff mix as he relaxed at the end of the leash, panting heavily from his fight against an immovable force. He stopped to sniff every bush and post and blade of grass as we continued, having resigned his war against restraint – for now – and peeing prolifically. I could only shake my head fondly, letting the joyful hound stop and start as he saw fit, so thoroughly absorbed in his inexplicable canid behaviours that I hardly noticed when Mars came to a halt, watching us with their head cocked, smiling fondly.

“Are you two coming with me, or heading for the border?” they teased, eyes alight with humour as I skidded to a sheepish stop.

“Oops,” I offered, shrugging shyly – but they simply laughed and shook their head, leading the way up to the side door of the store.

“I’m sorry in advance,” they offered, grimacing. “It’s a little… Chaotic, in here…”

I waved a hand as I followed them up a dim staircase, making a soft sound of objection. “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

Their space was a continuation of the store downstairs, punctuated by the calls and whistles of several birds perched around the room, eyeing me with suspicion.

Recalling the green gremlin that had dive-bombed me the first time I visited Paws, I eyed them right back, apprehensive.

Mars caught me watching them and let out a laugh, shaking their head. “They’ll leave you be. They’re not all like Denzel,” they added, glaring with undisguised affection at the lime-coloured creature sat atop the bookcase with a look of pride. When it wasn’t aiming for my face, the relatively small bird – particularly in comparison to the towering macaw beside it – looked almost elegant, pale green fading into deep emerald along wings and head, interrupted only by a black and pink band around the neck and a vibrantly red beak.

And then it squawked definitely, and I jumped.

“Seems… Sociable,” I replied, eyes narrowed warily, earning another fond chuckle.

“He’s a baby, really. Wanna meet him?”

I glanced at the bird uncertainly, opening my mouth to reply.

“Sure,” I agreed, grinning broadly as I took in the delightfully chaotic featherball. “I’d love to!”

A ripple of surprise flickered over their face, then they lit up, letting out a low whistle. “Dezzie!”

The bird let out an unholy series of shrieks before catapulting itself bodily across the room, wings moving in a blur. I couldn’t help but admire the way his back arched as he landed, gracefully tucking his feet forward to latch himself onto Mars’ shoulder. My fingers reached out of their own accord, curling away at the last moment with a blush. They offered me a reassuring smile, raising their own hand to rub the side of the bird’s head, chuckling when he leant into the touch. “You can pet him. He won’t bite.”

Slowly, hesitantly, I extended my hand once more to the fragile creature. I’m not concerned about him hurting me…

The back of my fingers brushed theirs as I skimmed my tentative touch over the delicate plumage, heat rising in Mars’s cheeks. But I was too busy to notice, enraptured by the way the creature pressed into my hand, chirruping quietly.

When he turned his head and stepped up into the space between thumb and forefinger, my chest ached with joy. I couldn’t help the delighted chuckle that escaped me, blinking in surprise. Mars stepped back a little, leaving me supporting my new feathered friend, and I hesitantly drew him closer, raising metal fingers to continue caressing his chest gently.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan, Winter,” Mars teased affectionately, and I blushed, head ducking.

“You recognise me?” I clarified, and they laughed, making the bird open one eye and glare at the interruption.

“Of course! Firstly, Dezzie here scares the crap out of Bucky. Secondly… You’re not as similar as you might think.” Their eyes narrowed a little as they considered me, quiet and thoughtful. “You’re like… The sun and the moon. Same general category, but distinct and unique.”

I chuckled softly, flicking my gaze to theirs. “You think?” They nodded firmly, and I smiled, looking back to the creature perched on my hand, his eyes closed with joy. “I… Thank you.”

With a nod, they glanced around. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I have a few… Dozen critters to feed, then I’ll be with you.”

I was happy to recline on their sofa, Denzel exploring my clothes and a cat curled up beside me, licking my hand with enthusiasm and pausing only long enough to hiss a warning as Zeus rested his nose on the seat beside him, earning a chuckle and an eyeroll from Mars as they passed by.

“She’s fine. She’s incredibly dog-savvy; she’s just making sure he knows who’s the boss!” they snorted, shaking their head fondly. Zeus sniffed the cat tentatively, the latter of which had returned to purring and licking, tail thumping with interest before he trotted away, distracted by Mars’ movements and the bag of bird seed they carried.

I let out a soft chuckle, one hand smoothing the sleek, patchwork fur of the cat’s anguine spine. “He likes you,” I noted, smiling fondly at the shadow diligently following them around the apartment as they attended to their feathered dependents.

“Or he likes that I’ve got chicken in my pocket for him,” they countered with a snort, dropping the bag beside the last of the cages. “C’mon, pup. Let’s see what you can do, hm?”

Zeus followed them obligingly, a thick strand of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth as they led the way over to sit beside me, perching on the edge of the sofa to avoid the cat languidly enjoying her petting. Despite the empty-headed expression, the dog’s eyes were focused wholeheartedly on Mars, watching for any indication as to food that may be heading his way. “Alright, Zeus. Let’s do you a little test, hm? See where you’re starting. Can you… Sit?”

The enormous behind hit the ground immediately and with an audible whump, and I laughed. “I think he’s got that one down,” I teased as they praised him, the mighty jaws working around their fingers as he took a scrap of chicken. They simply smiled and nodded, offering him a gentle scratch under the chin.

“He’s a smart boy,” they agreed, crooning closer to him and squeaking with surprise when a large tongue trailed the length of their cheek, earning a snort and a fond shake of my head. Wiping their sleeve across their face with an overdramatic shudder, they refocused, eyes on his. “Okay, okay. How about… Down?” Their hand lowered a little, and Zeus dropped obediently, settling against the ground in a heartbeat. “Yes! Good boy!” He earned another treat for his efforts, and Mars shot me a broad grin.

“He’s deceptive,” I replied with a chuckle, the dog’s huge, open maw giving him a decidedly mindless expression, and reached over to give him a scratch of my own. “A smart boy, aren’t you, huh?”

“He takes after his dads!” Mars replied, then blushed timidly when I glanced at them, smirking. “I- Uh… Let’s keep going, shall we?”

By the time their stomach began to rumble audibly, Mars and I had come up with a plan of action of sorts, based on the things we’d concluded Zeus knew well.

“So, first and foremost, he needs some leash manners,” they noted, eyeing the dog wagging by their hip with faux sternness. “He might not pull you over, but if anyone else ever has to hold him, he’s going to pull their arm off at the moment. Not to mention the damage he could do to himself in the long-term.”

I hummed my agreement, fingers toying with one of his soft ears idly. “I… Will you help us?” I murmured, blushing timidly as my head ducked, and they chuckled.

“Of course… Темнота,” they added, elbowing me gently and grinning.

I blushed harder, squatting to busy myself with Zeus’ only-too-willing attention. “How did you know?”

They chuckled, smiling softly when I glanced up through my lashes. “It’s like Winter said. You’re… Sweet.” My cheeks flamed, and their grin grew. “But yes – I’d be honoured to help.”

“We can pay,” I added quickly, and they started to shake their head, but I raised a hand imploringly. “Money isn’t really an issue.”

“I’ve seen your apartment,” they replied, eyebrow arching in disbelief, before they paled, horrified. “I m- I didn- I-”

I simply laughed, shaking my head. “I get it. But it’s not a financial thing, we just…” I shrugged a shoulder, lowering my gaze to my dog’s once more. “I don’t know. Didn’t want to get too comfortable, I guess.”

“Why?”

It was asked gently and without judgement, but still I stiffened, muscles becoming clumsy and terse. Because I don’t deserve comfort.

Because I’m a hero killer.

Because I don’t deserve to be treated like more than I am.

“Not sure how long I’ll be around,” I replied eventually, chewing on my lip quietly. “I might have to move on before too long.” When they didn’t reply, I sighed, settling myself on the ground and smoothing a hand along his neck falteringly. “I... Need to stay ahead of certain people. I may need to move on quite quickly.”

“Are you running from the law or something?” they asked softly, squatting beside me, and I shrugged a shoulder.

“There’s probably more than one government out there who would love to make us disappear. But... No. Not this time.” Quietly, I trailed my finger along the edge of the white blaze down Zeus’ chest, the short, soft fur grounding me. “We’ve done some real bad things in our time. Some of those things... Well, they only recently came to light. The folks affected by them weren’t very happy. It’s best if we keep ourselves ready. Never settling, you know? Always ready to move, if we need to.”

They nodded once in response, considering me quietly. “… I know about you, you know.” I looked up in surprise, and they offered me a soft, sad smile. “Well, about y’all. The singlet that society sees you as, I mean. The Soldier.” I winced, and their hand found my shoulder gently as my head ducked once more. “There’s… Stories, and stuff. I’m sure they don’t do justice to what y’all really went through, but… They make it more than understandable that you were forced to do things that you wouldn’t have done otherwise. By all accounts, you were – you are – a good person. Good people, I mean. Captain America has always been very vocal about-”

“Yeah, Steve’s good people,” I interrupted smoothly, jaw setting as I stood. “But he doesn’t know me – he knows Bucky. I’m the man that HYDRA created, and I am not a good person. I did those things, and I didn’t care while I did them.”

“And now?” they interjected quietly, unfaltering in the face of my sudden appearance and vehement disagreement. “You were trained and conditioned from the moment you existed, Win. But now you know more of this world, and of yourself. Do you care now?”

I blinked hard and lowered my gaze, the stiffness of my muscles draining with my stubbornness. “I… Yes,” I whispered, eyes closing. “Yes. I do.”

Their touch found my arm again, gentle and reassuring. “Because you, like the other two, are a good man, Winter.”

I blushed a little, shooting them a half-grin. “I guess I try,” I offered sheepishly, shrugging a vibranium shoulder. “But hey – how about this good man cooks you a good meal, to say thanks?”

They groaned their way through their meal, eyes alight and shining. They’d reluctantly allowed me to take over their kitchen at my insistence, stammering as I purchased the ingredients with a wave of my hand.

“Like I said – money isn’t an issue,” I replied simply, shrugging. They’d mumbled their red-faced thanks, occupying the apartment’s furry and feathered inhabitants while I cooked – with Buck’s help, given my inexperience.

They’d eyed and subtly poked at the dumplings uncertainly, somewhat dubious, but the aromas filling the room – and doubtless a desire to appear polite – led to their breaking open a single pelmen, considering the filling of ground meat silently, unable to keep themselves from inhaling deeply. “I won’t be offended if you don’t like it,” I assured them with a grin, chuckling as their expression flickered with relief. Slowly, hesitantly, they took a small bite; they dissolved immediately into quiet groans, the rest of the dumpling disappearing between their lips quickly.

“Holy shit.”

Snorting, I shook my head affectionately, beginning my meal with rather a more restrained manner. “Good?”

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” they grunted, before shooting me a timid grin around bulging cheeks. “Sorry. Beautiful, I know.”

“You’re exquisite,” I replied softly, grinning when their cheeks flamed and they swallowed with difficulty. “But thank you. It’s my favourite thing in the world. I don’t remember where I learned the recipe, but…” Shaking my head lightly, I shrugged a shoulder, considering one of my creations. “I’ve been making it for years. It’s warm, and filling, and comfortable.”

They nodded vigorously, eagerly tucking into the contents of their plate. “It’s delicious, Win. Do you make it often?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” I admitted, eating slowly. I was too lost in them, in the way they could enjoy something so simple as this staple, making soft sounds of delight at the seemingly wonderous new experience. I – we - hadn’t felt such pleasure in almost a century, though I found myself settling into the company, the warm, scent-wreathed room lulling my mind and allowing my muscles to unclench slightly.

“Why not? You clearly love it,” they added, indicating their head at the faint smile tugging at my lips, and I chuckled.

“I do,” I agreed, “but it’s hard to find the time. Or the motivation.”

They considered this for a moment, then blushed, lowering their gaze once more.

“It doesn’t pay so much, but I love it,” they gushed, leaning back in their seat. They’d talked endlessly about work when I’d asked, eyes bright with joy. “I’d far rather be happy than rich, you know? I can afford the things I need to, and that’s enough for me.”

I smiled fondly, nodding once. “That definitely sounds like an ideal way to live.”

“What about you?” they asked, hands folding over their stomach as they let out an overfed huff of air. “What’s next for you guys, now that you’re not in the team any more?”

My brow furrowed, and I looked away uncertainly.

What is next for us?

Is there a next?

Or is this our life now? Running from one bolt hole to the next, constantly looking over our shoulder?

Will we ever find peace?

Will we always be hunted?

A hand found mine, and I glanced back at my companion, blinking in surprise. “I’m sorry,” they murmured, their steady, dark gaze locked on mine. “That wasn’t very thoughtful of me...”

I shook my head once, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s okay. I guess I just... I don’t know the answer. I have no idea what we do next; for as long as we can remember, our only mission has been survival.” It was almost overwhelming to think about the variety of options spread before us, each just as attainable and uncomprehensible as the last. “There’s too many choices.”

They chuckled at that, squeezing my hand gently. “It’s a lot, I know. But you don’t have to decide right now, right?” Their spare hand found Zeus’ head, caressing lightly, and they shot him a grin. “I guess the only thing you need to decide tonight is when to go home.”

I don’t want to...

Despite myself, I couldn’t help humming my agreement, comfortable, warm and relaxed in their company. It would be

“Will you read again?” I asked quietly, biting my lip as a blush crept up my cheeks. Their eyes cut back to mine, glowing with warmth.

“I’d be happy to, Tem,” they agreed readily, and I felt my face heat further at the recognition, wondering if I’d ever get tired of being so transparently seen.

It took a moment for their words to sink in, and I paused, surprised. “... ‘Tem’?”

Colour rose in their own complexion, and their head cocked infinitesimally as they smiled. “Is that okay? If you don’t like it, I don’t-”

“No,” I interrupted quickly, joy fizzing under my skin as I grinned. “No... I like it.”

The rain started to come down as I sat beside them, soft at first, and then loud enough to almost drown out their voice as they read to me from a nature book, regaling me with facts about the Sulawesi Forest Turtle.

“They live in the streams in the forests on the island of Sulawesi, and are thought to be a vital part of their native ecosystem. In studies of their feces, scientists have found insect specimens as yet unidentified- hey, that’s really cool, huh? Isn’t it weird that they can-”

They cut themselves off as they darted to their feet, cursing under their breath as they stumbled and rousing me from my contented, transfixed state. Nonsensical mutters fell from their lips as they moved around, and I saw the cause of their concern - a steady stream of drips falling from the ceiling, spraying out over the floor as they landed. I was beside them in an instant, gazing up at the damage with concern.

“Don’t worry about it - it happens whenever there’s a storm,” they grumbled, dropping a mop bucket beneath the leak with a sigh. “I really need to get it fixed, but... Well, I can’t afford to pay anyone, and the last thing anyone needs is me up a ladder. I’m more likely to end up falling off the roof than mending it.”

“We can do it,” I offered immediately, unfalteringly, and they blushed.

“Thanks, but you-”

“Consider it a gift of gratitude,” I interrupted softly, reaching out to rest a hand on their arm gently. “Please. We’d like to.”

Their eyes met mine once more, and they blushed, looking down as they nodded. “I... Okay. Thanks, Tem.” The gaze locked on mine flickered, shifting to the metal fingers on their skin, and I winced, drawing back with an apologetic murmur, causing their eyes to widen in alarm. “No, no! I didn’t - it doesn’t bother me or anything, I just-” They grimaced at their own fumbling, pausing to gather their thoughts as they leant back against the counter. “I... I wondered who... How it... What happened? Not that you have to say,” they added quickly, turning ever more crimson.

I rested against my hip beside them, considering my metal joints as I thought about how to answer. “This exact edition is courtesy of a very intelligent young engineer in Wakanda,” I started, digits twitching. “But... I lost my arm falling from a train.”

They winced sympathetically, turning to face me more fully. “I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt...”

Shrugging, I looked away. “I didn’t know much about it until after. There were... I remember flashes, now and then. Moments during the removal of what was left, and the fitting of the joints and bones that would hold the metal one. Usually they’re out of reach when I’m awake, though,” I added.

A mercy.

The glimpses of blood and pain always seemed just beneath the surface, ready to come for us at the slightest provocation, holding us fast in their terror until our subconscious deemed us tortured enough to be released. No matter how many years passed, we still dreaded those nightmares and the memories they contained.

“Who did this to you?” they breathed, a look of horror flickering across their features, and I offered them a weak smile as thoughts of being tied down and cut open without as much as a shot to dull the pain.

“I was part of a military experiment run by HYDRA - so-called scientists who wanted to create super soldiers, like St- like Captain America,” I rectified quickly. We’d learnt long ago that most people found it odd to hear America’s Sweetheart referred to by his first name - though he’d always be a nerdy, skinny teenager to us, no matter how big he got. “I guess they were successful, in a way. Their technique wasn’t as finessed as Stark’s, but... Whatever they’d done to us when we’d been captured a few months before meant that we could survive that fall. Not that we often felt it a worthy trade-off,” I noted bitterly, earning a sympathetic hum.

“Does it hurt?” they whispered, and I closed my eyes briefly before responding.

“Every single second,” I replied quietly.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I blinked in surprise, gaze finding theirs once more, rendered silent by the question. “I... What?”

They shrugged shyly, fingers entwining in front of them. “Is there anything I can do - anything that might help?”

... We could-

No.

But-

No, Temnota. We don’t do that.

I jus-

Win’s right. We can’t - it’s not safe.

Reluctantly, I shook my head, the endless ache of damaged nerves throbbing along my chest more than ever at the tantalising opportunity for relief. “No... No. There’s nothing you can do.”

No matter how I fought it, I found myself inching closer to their side as evening faded into night, an age-worn blanket adorning our laps without my noticing. By the time I became aware of the encroaching darkness, we were all but huddled together, the winter chill driving us to seek warmth in one another.

They shot me a look as they lit a candle on the coffee table, an unreadable expression in the flickering light, and I cocked my head. “What is it?”

“I... The bottles.”

I opened my mouth to clarify, confused, then slowly closed it with a click as comprehension dawned. “Oh.”

“That- It was a lot of empty whisky, Tem...”

With a subtle grimace, I waved a hand. “It takes much more than that to have an effect on us, I promise. Zeus is safe, if that’s what you-”

“It’s not just Zeus I’m worried about,” they interjected softly, glancing at the dog snoring contentedly beside them. “I care about you guys, too.”

The intimacy of the soft, shimmering light kept the flush from my cheeks, but my eyes still dropped timidly, shy under their gaze. “I... It’s the only way we can sleep,” I admitted, my voice barely audible. “And even then, it’s not... We don’t... We don’t sleep much.”

They nodded slowly, expression thoughtful. “...Would you like to stay over?” I felt my eyes widen in surprise, and they paled. “I don’t- I’m n- I j-” They cleared their throat, cheeks vermillion in the low light, and started over. “You seemed to sleep pretty well when you weren’t alone. If ever you need some rest... I know this place isn’t much, but...”

Pausing, I chewed my lip, holding back my own answer reluctantly.

We shouldn’t.

Why not?

Do we really want to get them more involved in this mess?

It’s putting them at unnecessary risk.

But they’re right... I slept so much better with them...

That doesn’t matter, Tem.

It would be selfish to endanger them like that.

The rejection was gentle, but still it stung, and I found myself blinking back tears that threatened to spill as I shook my head slowly. “I... I can’t.”

“I’m not afraid of whatever demons you have, you know.”

Startled, I looked up, the motion causing the water clustered along my lash line to trail down my cheek, and they offered me a sad smile as they reached out to brush it away. “I know you think you’re haunted. Or hunted, or whatever. But I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of any ghosts that y’all may have.”

“And what if those ghosts come calling?” I clarified softly, and they smiled.

“Then I know you would never let anything happen to me,” they responded simply.

Never.

No... Never.

Woe betide anyone who dares try.

“You can stay, but only if you’d like to.” Their fingers found mine and they squeezed softly, leaning against my shoulder. “It’s okay to be afraid, though. I can be brave for all of us.”

By the time I woke, daylight was streaming across the pillow in front of me, and I sat upright quickly, startled.

The bed was empty save for a small calico curled up against my side, who opened one eye at the movement, swiping a paw over her ear before returning to her slumber, unphased. I scanned the room quickly, panic rising in my throat at Mars’ conspicuous absence.

Oh God, what did we do?

Did we have a nightmare and freak them out?

Did something happen to them?

What if we-

Our internal dialogue cut off as the front door opened, Zeus leading the way inside, his tail wagging energetically and mouth hanging open with glee. Mars seemed surprised to see me sat upright, but their expression recovered quickly, and they shot me a broad smile, holding up a tray of two coffee cups that shook from the straining on the leash in the other hand.

“You’re lucky you’re super strong - this guy is like a bulldozer!” they laughed, shaking their head fondly as they deposited the tray on the table before kneeling, calling the dog to them before removing his collar and smoothing a hand over his brindle fur. “I nearly ended up wearing the coffee!”

An odd, sweet scent permeated the room, and I cocked my head. “That doesn’t smell like coffee,” I noted, and they chuckled, shrugging shyly.

“It’s pumpkin spiced latte,” they admitted, seemingly slightly ashamed of this choice. “Which, for the record, is not spiced with pumpkins, nor does it taste anything like pumpkins.”

“Then where does it get its name?” I mused aloud, taking the cup offered to me - which, mercifully, smelled only of regular Americano.

“I think it’s made of the same stuff they spice pumpkin pie with?” they offered, sitting beside me and crossing their legs beneath them as they shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s not terrible, though. But I kind of wish it did taste like pumpkins.”

I laughed aloud, taking a sip and shaking my head fondly. “Never been a fan, myself. Stevie loved pumpkin pie, though. My mom used to make it for us every Thanksgiving, just for him.” I smiled softly to myself at the memory of a warm house, the scents wafting from the oven, and the laughter of our small, broken band of misfits.

“What was she like?” they asked quietly after a moment, turning to face me fully, dark eyes locked on mine with undivided attention. I hummed thoughtfully, letting the aroma of their drink wash over me as I considered how to respond, before chuckling under my breath.

“Kind. She... That’s the best way to sum her up, really. She was one of the kindest people you’d ever meet. Steve’s home life wasn’t great - neither was mine, before my father died. She knew what it was like to live with fear. She couldn’t save him from that - much as she tried - but she could give him somewhere safe to go. This small, scrawny shrimp of a kid who seemed to have a target on his back and a knack for making it bigger. He was easy bait when he was young. There was nothing to him - no matter how much my mom tried to fatten him up, he was always so small, so sickly...”

They nodded once, head cocked thoughtfully. “I’ve seen pictures, somewhere. Before the serum, I mean. He looked like he might break a rib if he coughed too hard...” They grimaced and flushed, looking away. “That was mean.”

“No, it was accurate,” I reassured them softly, reaching out to squeeze their hand gently. “He wasn’t strong - not physically. He was ill a lot. Sarah - his mom - she told us once when he was sick that she never thought he’d make it past the first year. She loved that boy, but every day felt like borrowed time. She always assumed he’d be taken from her one day, so every time he got ill, she was prepared for the worst. But not our Stevie,” I added, shaking my head fondly at the memories. “He got better every time, no matter how many doctors said he wouldn’t survive the night. And my mom - she’d make him broth when he could barely eat, even when she was working twelve, fourteen hours a day. She’d go over every evening and stay until the entire thing was gone, even if she had to spoon it into his mouth herself.”

“She sounds like a good woman,” they replied gently, and I nodded, jaw tensing a little as my eyes stung.

“She was,” I answered, my voice cracking minutely.

I never got to say goodbye.

I thought, then, about what it must have been like for her. To have an officer at her door tell her that her child was missing and presumed dead. They never found a body, of course. I couldn’t help but wonder if she waited, if she spent the rest of her life rushing to answer every knock at the door in case I’d come home.

It wasn’t just me she would mourn, either. Steve was as much her child as I was by the time we joined up, and I wouldn’t have expected anyone ever told her - or Sarah, for that matter - what really happened to him. And by the time anyone knew either of us was alive...

“She’s gone now,” I noted softly, allowing waves of grief I’d scarcely permitted myself to acknowledge over the years wash over me in the safety of this small apartment with its leaking roof, dark eyes watching me quietly. “I wonder what she’d make of me now.”

I wonder if she’d fear us.

I wonder if she’d still love us.

I wonder if she’d recognise us after everything we’ve done.

“She’d be so proud of you, Bucky.”

I bit my lip, fighting the tears that build along my lash line.

“I hope so.”

By the time we stepped out into the daylight, the sun was high in the sky, though it did little to ease the chill. Mars shivered violently, wrapping their thick fleece further about themselves as a breeze made their curls sway endearingly. “I’m gonna get frostbite one day, I know it,” they whined, a good-natured smirk betraying their delight.

We’d spent almost an hour practicing Zeus’ leash etiquette, and I marvelled at the progress he – we – had made under Mars’ kind and patient tutelage. While still easily distracted and prone to attempting to chase down anything moving within his eyeline – be it cat, dog, or leaf – during quieter moments there was no more tension in the leash, and he looked to me frequently, checking to see if the treat pouch clipped to my belt would bear delicious meaty fruit for his calmness.

The sky opened as we neared my apartment, and we darted into the building as a torrent of rain began to fall, immediately soaking us to the bone. One glance at one another’s dripping faces had us creasing with laughter, their hand finding my arm to support themselves as they chortled.

When they looked up, laughter fading, I found myself gazing into enchanting, entrancing brown eyes, dancing with joy and amusement, their smile fading into seriousness as neither they nor I looked away. They were close enough for me to see the flecks of hazel buried in the mahogany depths, and my breath caught in my throat as their lips parted infinitesimally.

They were no more than an inch away when Zeus shook violently, showering us in a cascade of droplets and breaking the spell that held us fast. With a nervous laugh, cheeks colouring, they stepped back, hand leaving the fabric-covered vibranium of my arm as they glanced toward the door. “I should probably…”

Wordlessly, I nodded, struck silent as I watched them step back out into the downpour.

Probably a good thing…

We’re not supposed to be getting attached to this place...

We’re not supposed to be…

My internal thoughts, and those of my brothers, fell quiet as I saw them glance back, ringlets forming rivulets of rainwater along their jaw.

“Fuck it.”

I was outside without thinking, and they half-turned when they heard my footsteps on the wet ground, surprised to see me jogging toward them with Zeus trotting along eagerly beside me.

“Bucky – it’s pouring, what are you-”

My hands cradling their face cut them off, and they blinked up at me with wide eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly when I gave them time to object before crushing my lips to theirs with a soft sigh of surrender.

- “Who did this to you?” – @anyfandomgoesbingo (Dark); - ‘Ghosts’ – @buckybarnesbingo (B005); - ‘Hero-Killer’ – Bug’s First Bingo; - ‘Standing in the Rain’ – @darkacademiabingo ; - ‘There Was Only One Bed’ – @eclipsingbingo ; - ‘Nerve Damage’ – Eclipsing Bingo (Dark); - ‘No Anaesthetic’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Lazy Sunday’, ‘Deception’, ‘I Know What You Did’, ‘Memories’ – Fandom Free Bingo (Frosty Edition); - ‘Sulawesi Forest Turtle’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Wild Edition); - ‘Fairy Tales and Folklore’ – Gen Prompt Bingo;

- ‘Aftermath’- @hurtcomfort-bingo (CO42); - ‘Love as Cooking Their Favourite Meal’ – @julybreakbingo (Kofi Exclusive); - ‘Huddling For Warmth’ – July Break Bingo (Flash); - ‘Endless’, ‘Gangrene or Frostbite’ – July Break Bingo (6x6); - ‘Stealing or Running From the Law’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Cuddling’ – @lgbtqbingo Bingo;

- ‘Become an Early Bird’ – @multifandom-flash (New Year – Gen); - ‘Reading as it Rains Outside’, ‘Pumpkin Spice Latte’ – @seasonaldelightsbingo (Fall Vibes Bingo); - ‘Sun & Moon’ – Seasonal Delights Bingo (Five Nights at Freddy’s - BINGO!); - ‘“I’ll Be With You From Dusk Till Dawn.”’ – Seasonal Delights Bingo (Language of Flowers); - ‘First Kiss’ – Seasonal Delights Bingo (Rainy Weather Bingo); - ‘Would You Rather… Work a Job You Hate or Have No Money’ – @slumberpartybingo.

I had to remove some cards because there's an image cap *SOBS* but none of them had card numbers or were finished soooooo

[cinderella-ish]

Title: Melon Splitting Pairing: Honda Tohru/Sohma Kyou, Kuragi Machi/Sohma Yuki Rating: Teen Word Count: 1836 Warnings: blood, injury Summary: Back at the beach house, a game of watermelon splitting goes wrong. Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo Square Filled: Head Wound

Link

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Title: Day 23: Breeding/Impregnation, Alpha Cas/Omega Dean

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 435

Warnings: MM Smut, mlm, A/B/O, knotting, implied mpreg, Destiel, anal sex, gay sex

Summary: A sexy night between the Alpha and Omega

Kinktober 2023 prompt

Any Fandom Goes Bingo Square-filled: Breeding/Breeding Kink

A/N: part of Kinktober 2023

Created for @anyfandomgoesbingo / Square(s) Filled: Breeding/Breeding Kink