#broken adjective

[idwl]

the idol sings you a song...

★ broken adjective

[pt: broken adjective /end pt]

an adjective flag for when one uses broken to describe themselves, or wants people to use broken when describing them.

coined by us!

we do not consent to our creations being added to any wikipedia sites or reposted to other social media sites. anyone may use our terms and flags.

; tagging . . @radiomogai; @noxwithoutstars; @daybreakthing; @flutteringwings-coining; @rwuffles; @scr-ppup; @smilepilled; @the-astropaws; @somniabyte; @icwdtea

[meadow-dusk]

Tom Petty with Neil Young, 1992 ©️ Ken Regan

[chopping-block]

Patellar

CW: cold, broken bones, failed escape

—

Red staggers up the embankment, boots slipping in the damp leaf litter, hands leaving gouges in the snow and soil where he scrabbles for purchase. He ends up half-crawling, half-climbing, dirt and detritus getting all up in his clothes as he drags himself up the slope, inch by agonizing inch. He hates the delay but he’s terrified of backsliding, of ending up back there. So he crawls.

By the time he makes it to the top, the scrapes on his hands no longer register over the numbness from the cold. With a burst of energy he hauls himself up and tumbles into the road, and then just lays there for a minute catching his breath. Above him the full moon shines into his eyes. It’s too bright after the forest. The one-lane dirt road cutting its path through the dense woods is functionally the only clearing for miles. The inch-thick layer of snow that coats it is pristine; no one has been this way for hours, at least.

Red closes his eyes. He’s just resting for a moment. He’s a long way from civilization, but at the same time, he’s so close to freedom. A road goes somewhere. All he has to do is ration his energy, follow the road, and not freeze to death in the process.

A faint rumble catches his ear and he sits up. It’s deadened by the trees and snow and distance, but it’s unmistakably the sound of a car engine, and it’s getting closer. Red tenses—he can’t see anything yet, not even the flash of headlights, as the road curves out of sight just ahead. He shifts onto his feet. Who is coming? Could they help him? Could they be dangerous? He should probably keep low, stay out of sight, until he can tell. But before he can move back down the embankment, the vehicle swerves into view with a roar, headlights flooding the road and blinding Red. He throws his hands up to shield his face.

The car lurches to a stop only a few feet from Red, who has fallen backwards in shock. This close, Red is surprised to realize that it’s an unremarkable sedan, an older model, in a light color he can’t make out between the headlights and the darkness. The engine continues its idling rumble as someone opens the door and steps out, a thick woolen outer coat settling around their calves, and a straight, black cane hanging from their hand.

Red freezes. He should run, he needs to run, he has to run, but he just—stops. He had never considered what car they drove.

He has to run because it’s Carrasco, of course it is, and just like that they have found him, sitting pretty by the side of the road like he didn’t fight through his restraints and trudge through miles of forest to get away from them.

Carrasco steps in front of their car, partially blocking the beam from the headlights, enough for Red to see their slight smile when he cranes his neck to look up. “There’s my little runaway,” they say. Red always thought that their voice, lilting as it is, doesn’t match their broad, tall appearance, but a voice doesn’t really matter when they can lift him by the neck with one arm. Their figure is cloaked by their heavy coat but Red is familiar with the strength underneath.

Carrasco steps closer and Red starts trembling, rooted to the spot. “What are you doing all the way out here? Not walking alone, surely? You’re going to freeze. It’s snowing!” They’re making an effort to sound sincere, but it just comes off as mocking.

What do they get out of this pantomime? Red is suddenly angry, frustration breaking through the fear. “Stop pretending like you care about my well-being. Just take me back already if that’s what you’re going to do,” Red snaps as he scrambles to his feet.

Carrasco’s smile instantly drops. So does Red’s stomach.

“Is that what you want,” they say, musingly. They swing their cane between their hands, the heavy leaden head hitting their palm with a solid smack. They don’t use it to walk as they take a step forward, then another. Red backs up but doesn’t get far before his heel slips backwards into air; he’s run out of road. Hastily he pivots and starts backing away from Carrasco down the road proper. They don’t vary their advance, unhurried, inexorable, unconcerned by Red’s retreat. Their long stride eats up the gap as Red can only stumble backwards. They reach him in only a couple of steps and easily, almost casually, they lash out with the head of their cane and club him in the knee.

Red’s knee explodes in pain. He shrieks and collapses, clutching at it, rolling onto his back even as the movement sends lances of agony shooting up and down his leg and deep into his brain. It’s broken, they—they—broke his leg—

An extremely casual twirl of the cane, and then—crack!—another vicious swing to the same knee. He screams.

His screaming dies down to pained wheezes as Carrasco takes a leisurely step forward over him, standing over him with their legs framing his body as he clutches his shattered knee. Their expression is inscrutable, backlit by the sharp moonlight. Red tries to fight down tears and bile, tries to gather himself, but it hurts so much. They look at him, look down on him, and he feels the tears roll out of the corners of his eyes.

“You aren’t going to run. Ever again,” Carrasco says simply, light words landing like stones in the snow-deadened landscape. This time they’re not mocking, and it’s even worse.

His leg hurts so much, and he’s so, so scared.

[strangestcase]

toki pona is a ploy to get ppl to talk like cavemen in the name of self-realization. <- this is why I like it btw

[dalkyum]

EVERY MONTH OF 2023 IN CONTENT! I was tagged by @taegyunie and @dazzlingkai, thank you for thinking of me!! 💕

rules: link your favorite and/or most popular post from each month this year <3 (it’s totally fine to skip months!) and tag some CCs you love!

I know this is late so no pressure to do this at all but I'll tag @tamburins @hwangelbaby @jae-bums @jftk if you'd like to do it!

this is literally going to be emi reviews all of her gifs of yugyeom but like. let's go skfjdkjf

JANUARY most popular: yugjae from youngjae best friend radio (deserved) my favorites: this yugyeom instalive set!! also I think this set from the ponytail mv came out really pretty

FEBRUARY most popular: jinyoung album shoot (I think this is literally my most popular gifset jdjkfj) my favorites: ok I love this set from one of the aomg tour stops because well. wet. also he's cute. and this markjingyeom set that I did for the ahgase admirer event is the most like. technical gifset I've ever done and I think the colors came out so good

MARCH most popular: youngjae errr day behind (I need to do another set with this formatting I think it's so fun) my favorites: yugyeom aomg online concert cuteness, this youngjae performance set is soso pretty, and these dyeary gifs of yugyeom bc I always wanted to make big gifs of this clip even before I taught myself how to gif so they are special to mee

APRIL most popular + my favorite: another big gif yugyeom dyeary set as is my right

MAY most popular: yugyeom falling in love radio perf (apparently I was not giffing in april or may skjdkdf but I do like this set a lot of people said it was pretty)

JUNE most popular: YUGYEOM @ SEOUL WATERBOMB (DESERVED!!) also my most popular yugyeom set in general. also one of my faves 💕 my favorites: I think this set is cute too:) and!! this yugyeom w korea edit, I think I colored this so well. just absolutely killed that evil green filter

JULY most popular: yugyeom from it's live's tiktok (also a fave tbh) my favorites: this lolo performance set! and this one too, I think the coloring came out really nice

AUGUST most popular: just some guy for my isa's birthday (love this set, the clips go together so well it's so satisfying kfdkjd) my favorites: apparently I like everything I made in august so these are my most favorite posts. yugyeom dazed korea photoshoot is my best edit to date I love these sm. this yugyeom it's live set came out so hd looking and the colors are pretty:) I also love this lolo ending fairy set the coloring came out so good. AND no one cared abt this one but I love this set of yugyeom on monstop he's so prettie

SEPTEMBER most popular: yugyeom daebak show set (also a fave!! amazing. glad we all agree) my favorites: this yugyeom ig live set I think he looks so good in the blue 💙 I really need to make more ig live/vlive gifs they're truly my calling and yet I never make them skldfk

OCTOBER most popular: yugyeom lolo curv live my favorites: I love both of these sets of yugyeom at octopop he looked so amazing incredible this is one of my fav looks on him ever (yes I know it's just a tank top don't worry about me I can't be saved)

NOVEMBER most popular: my fancam set of yugyeom performing lights in berlin (screaming crying throwing up. nothing to add. obviously also one of my favorites, the lighting is so pretty and warm 🥹) my favorites: apparently I also like everything from november asdklf this youngjae suit dance set came out exactly the way I wanted 🩷 also yugyeom's birthday post of course. and yugyeom x buzzfeed uk just bc I didn't stop staring at this set for like a week. the first gif alone gave me enough serotonin to survive for a month

DECEMBER most popular: yugyeom take you down perf 220331 (this set came out so good. deserved) my favorites: I love this youngjae mencert set, this also came out exactly how I wanted skfjd youngjae has the best performance videos I swear. and this gifset of yugyeom performing take you down is so beautiful to mee I redid it a lot of times and I like what I ended up with!!

my goals for 2024 are to post more gifs and keep being normal about that man 🩷 I can literally see my improvement from the beginning of the year to now and I think that's really cool:)

if u have ever reblogged my gifs I love u. I'm literally over here just doing my thing and u are all so kind. kiss kiss

[folklore-girl]

appreciation post (#1) for @trashmeowcan because THEY’RE SO PRETTY AND SO SMORT AND I LOVE THEM SM (ALSO GAP-BAS DON’T YOU TRY BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS YOU ARE SO SO PRETTY AND SO SO SMORT, OK??)

he ghe 🌷🌷 skkddjd <3

[iuuua]

i wonder how many neurodivergent children go undiagnosed because the parents insist they aren't different, they're just lazy/selfish/awkward/annoying/etc. and those are things that can be fixed and neurodivergence would be an "excuse" so the parents just keep trying to "fix" the child

[dramatisperscnae]

@defectivexfragmented [from x]

"You know me better'n dat." Remy's voice was just as soft, his lips brushing over Matt's skin. "An' we both know, good as liar as I am, I couldn' pull one over on you'f I tried."

Well. Maybe if he tried. But he never would. He had far too much respect for Matt to do that.

"Y'scars don' bother me none, mon chèr. I seen worse'n 'em jus' lookin' in de mirror." Though he could never look at them for long. "An' I could feed ya some line 'bout takin' pride in 'em, dey bein' some kinda badges o' survival, but…" He nuzzled against Matt's neck, not bothering to hide his smile. "true as 'at is, hones' answer is I jus' like 'em. Dey a part of you, jus' addin' to dem devilish good looks a yours."

[zqwritings]

CW: Animal abuse

The Broken Horse

A horse with withers bloodied and scabbed

And hooves dirty, broken, and cracked

With a tongue lolling, swollen, and slack

And a coat dusty, knotty, and patched

With eyes bloodshot, wide, and terrified

A whip came down upon its hide

And in the field in which it had worked all its life

The broken horse fell and died

[ccaptain]

In the Swarm Accident plot that I love so much, what hurts the most is that H:SR Kaeya chose the safety of the Express to hole himself in and ride out the effect of the attack that he endured, when he could have gone back home to Gallagher and received a more effective treatment and support.

He didn't, because while Kaeya considers this man as a father, he's also his mentor. He taught Kaeya to "kick ass" and that he's the one supposed to weaponize people's fears. Kaeya not going back home because he didn't wanted to see the possible disappointment in Gallagher's eyes after falling for the Swarm's trap brings me more pain than I can put into writing.

In his words, typed on his cellphone rather than said with a voice he no longer has:

[txt:] I'm supposed to be the one that frightens these things. Not the frightened one. [txt:] But I was. Still am. I'm scared. I've never been scared in my entire life. I always thought about how it would feel, and... [txt:] I can hear things in my brain that weren't here before. I don't WANT them. I don't want to hear them. I see them at the windows. They're waiting for me. [txt:] I know they aren't really there, and I'm still afraid that they're waiting for me. [txt:] Dad would be so disappointed in me. [txt:] He wouldn't tell me. He never tells me. He'd say that I did a good job regardless, but I know I didn't. [txt:] This wasn't even a job! I just went there on my own. I was having a good time. [txt:] He taught me better. [txt:] I should be stronger than this. [txt:] I tell myself that I'll be stronger next time... but I don't know if I will be.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

Do you ever use a different word in your writing and think, “so cool, I should do that again!” to the point where you forget the most basic synonyms. “Begrudgingly” 10x in a sentence - bitch you forgot the word hesitant? Reluctant?

[luna-azzurra]

Some tips on the do’s and don’ts of adding more description to your Writing

Do‘s:

Make your writing come alive by describing things that appeal to the senses. Instead of saying "It was a beautiful garden," you could say "The garden was filled with the scent of fresh roses, the sound of buzzing bees, and the vibrant colors of blooming flowers."

Instead of just saying what something is like, show it through your words. For instance, instead of saying "She was sad," you could describe her actions and surroundings to show her sadness: "Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared out the rain-streaked window, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand."

Instead of using general words, get specific. Instead of saying "He drove a car," you could say "He drove a sleek, black convertible, the wind tousling his hair as he sped down the open highway."

Keep your writing interesting by mixing up short and long sentences. Don't always write in the same way. For example, "The sky was dark. The trees swayed in the wind. It felt eerie," could be improved by adding variety: "Dark clouds gathered overhead, causing the trees to sway ominously in the gusting wind, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape."

Use your descriptions to set the mood of your story. Instead of just saying "It was a scary place," describe the setting to evoke fear in your readers: "The abandoned house loomed in the moonlight, its broken windows and creaking doors whispering of unseen terrors lurking within."

Don't just drop descriptions randomly into your writing. Make sure they fit naturally into the flow of your story. Instead of stopping the action to describe something, weave it into the narrative: "As she ran through the forest, the branches clawed at her skin, leaving scratches like whispers of the dangers lurking in the shadows."

While descriptions are important, don't forget to keep your story moving forward. Don't spend too much time describing things at the expense of the action. Find a balance between describing the scene and keeping the plot moving.

Don't:

Using too many adjectives can make your writing sound cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to the essentials and choose your words carefully.

Don't forget that dialogue and interactions between characters are key parts of your story. Use them to reveal personality and move the plot forward.

Don't repeat yourself. Once you've described something, trust your readers to remember it. Don't keep saying the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes, what you don't say can be just as important as what you do say. Let your readers read between the lines and draw their own conclusions.

Avoid using tired old phrases that everyone has heard before. Try to come up with fresh, original descriptions that will grab your readers' attention.

Be mindful of the pace of your story. Don't slow things down with long descriptions in the middle of an action scene. Save the detailed descriptions for quieter moments when the pace naturally slows down.

[soleilapproves]

Mechanic Sukuna purposely lies about your car so he can see you again.

Notes: not proofread, fem!reader

main masterlist

Sweaty, grimy, and greasy. Three adjectives you’d use to describe the local repair shop. It was always filled with muscled men who always seemed to have a permanent scowl on their face, intimidating anyone who wanted help with their vehicle.

Which is why you always sent your (only) male friend there to order any kind of complicated repair work on your behalf. As a woman, you did not want to be subject to all the scrutinizing stares and intentionally inflated prices for services that would otherwise be cheap or free of charge.

Your car was your baby. A haven if you will. It was much better to take naps in there rather than sit and do homework in the library during the long gaps in your class schedule. It was the best to use in the late months of spring, with the AC blowing right in your face as you dreamt about sleeping on an iceberg.

But alas, it also had to break down when the heat was at its highest and your friend had gone on a trip with his partner.

You were now conditioned to go to the place you dreaded most. You got rid of all your pretty accessories stuck and dangling off of different parts of your car. You were not going to be a victim of chauvinism. Especially not by mechanics- it just hurts more with them of all people.

As expected, all eyes were on you (mainly because you were the only girl in the shop and you looked like you had seen a ghost). All the men there looked like they belonged to a gang- brutish, crass words slipping out of their mouths like it was nothing, grease all over their faces, and regular safety uniforms altered to show off their muscle tank tops.

Your eyes just shifted around the place. You weren’t even sure how the system worked. Were you supposed to walk over to them or did they just come to you? Did you have to get an appointment before arriving like it was a doctors office or-

“I recognize that dump.”

You turned to see who in their right mind had to say that about your ass. You hadn’t been hit on a lot in your life, but you knew how to differentiate between flattery and sexual harassment. The other men were quick to go back to their tasks, not wanting to watch your reaction.

“Excuse me?” You squeaked out with as much anger in your voice as possible (you were more like a yipping Pomeranian).

The pink haired man in front of you looked like the definition of bad news. Stark black tattoos against his pale skin, burn and cut scars all over his arms, and his pink hair was pulled back by a black bandana. With the way him and the other men looked, it seemed like all mechanics had to do a course in ‘Intimidation 101: how to look like a convict.’

“Talkin’ ‘bout your car, sweetheart. Some guy is always comin’ in here with that thing.”

Sweetheart. Passive aggressive prick

“Oh, I’m sorry. That guy’s my friend. This is actually my car and the AC is just not working properly. I think it’s broken.”

You watched as he walked over to your car and examined the interior. “Flaps are fine. I think we might have to open it up and take a good look inside. Might even have to replace the thing.”

He noticed your shifty gaze, probably worried about how much you were going to have to pay for the whole thing. Adorable.

“I know a guy who gives discounts for it. You a college student?” His unnaturally handsome face looks concerned for you. You weren’t expecting it but you welcomed it. With caution of course. You nodded meekly while looking at him. Maybe mechanics weren’t scammy towards women after all.

He clapped his hands and grinned, sharp canines visible in all their glory. The man looked like the human version of a tiger. “Then it’s basically free. Don’t worry about the cost. You can leave your car here. Want me to call an uber for ya?”

He noticed the not-so-discreet glances from his coworkers but kept his eyes trained on your wimpish face.

“I’m alright. Um, thank you. Do I have to leave my number or do you guys have that on file?”

“We do have a number but I’m guessing that belongs to your friend cause he’s always the one to come here and pick your car up after service.”

“You’re right. I think I might have to give mine.”

As stupid as it sounds, he wanted to do a cartwheel, it’s like everything was falling into place. Cute girl with car problems, no boyfriend (as far as he knows), and he gets her number.

He was going to get a celebratory beer after work.

His colleagues could see the pep in his step but didn’t bother to say anything knowing that you were still there- even if you looked like your mind wasn’t present.

He returned with a clipboard and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from scaring you with his beaming smile.

“I’m Sukuna by the way.” He smirked as he noticed the deep blush on your cheeks. You stammered out your name to him and he swore that he could almost envision it on an elegant white card a few years from now.

“See you soon,” he said before walking away with a new air of confidence around his gait.

After you left, his friend, Toji, abandoned the car he was working on to follow Sukuna to the office. “There’s no way in hell you know someone who can install a new AC for free. I paid hundreds to fix mine.” Sukuna didn’t even look at his friend while he was talking. He just kept staring at you through the window while you were getting into your cab.

“There’s nothing wrong with her AC. She just needed to clean the filters.”

__

New serie- who said that? 👁️👄👁️

[eeridyllic]

MANEATER

kinich x saurian! reader

cw: no pronouns. reader is an ancient sealed saurian much like ajaw but you’re in your human form all the time. flirting and makeout. 3.5k words. not proof-read.

There were a lot of adjectives Kinich could use to describe you. Irritating would be the first, though it barely scratched the surface. 

You were cunning, nosy, and far too pleased with yourself. He could have gone his entire life without meeting you and slept soundly at night. You enjoyed testing his patience, dancing around with that sharp smile as if you knew something he didn’t. 

In your eyes, everything seemed like a game—a tiresome one, at that, with endless rules Kinich had no interest in learning. His life had been simpler—at least—before you’d come along; before your mocking laughter, your constant, uninvited insights, and that way you had of observing him, as though he were an oddity you couldn't quite figure out, or a mere prey to hunt. 

But despite everything, there was no ignoring that you had added a strange new rhythm to his days.

The memory pulled him back to that pivotal moment—the point where, he realized now, everything had shifted. 

______________________________________________

He and Ajaw had been partners for some time already, surviving one mission after another. So when another one arrived, promising a huge payment in exchange for exploring ancient ruins, Kinich barely batted an eye. The contractor was vague and evasive about the reasons, claiming he needed a specific artifact hidden within. Suspicious, maybe. But money was money.

Navigating the ruins was a gauntlet. Kinich lost count of the traps, the decaying pillars that threatened to collapse with each step, the puzzles and mechanisms clearly designed to keep intruders out. The place was a maze of broken stone and silent challenges, yet he felt a familiar surge of satisfaction with each step deeper into the heart of the ruin.

At last, he reached a final chamber, where the object of his commission stood on a dais—a fragment of the past unlike any he’d seen before, emanating a strange energy that felt older than time itself. It was no wonder his contractor had wanted it, though Kinich couldn’t begin to guess what it was for.

The moment his hand brushed the relic, a surge of ancient power pulsed through the room. Ajaw, strangely quiet but ever alert, shifted beside him, his eyes narrowing with a cautious awareness. And then, from the shadows, a voice drifted through the room, light and smooth with an undercurrent of menace.

“Well, well. Another little human wandered in.”

Kinich whirled, looking around through the darkness of the place for the source of the voice, when he finally met you.

The figure before him was both mesmerizing and unnervingly unnatural. Even as he felt his guard rise, there was no denying you were the most otherworldly, hauntingly beautiful being he had ever seen. But your draconic eyes betrayed your true nature. You were one of Ajaw’s kind, another ancient sealed entity—alive and as dangerous as the power coursing through the chamber.

Ajaw stirred, his presence crackling with a familiar hostility. “Hunf. Long time no see, (Y/N),” he greeted you, his tone a blend of wary sarcasm and grudging acknowledgment. 

You met his words with a raised brow and an amused smile.

“My, you’re still alive, Ajaw? And leaning on humans above all. How unfortunate,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms. Ajaw grumbled irritated earning a gaze from Kinich who was watching your interaction with almost amused interest. 

“So, human”, you said, your voice edged with a touch of boredom as you sat on a rock, “What do you want with me? What’s the plan? Drag me off to that contractor of yours perhaps?”

Kinich maintained his composure, though he was a bit surprised by how you already knew the reason why he stepped into your domain.

Without further ado, the hunter started to explain the details of his commission—he was the first, but surely he wouldn’t be the last either. 

The moment he finished, your expression twisted, a flicker of disdain evident.

“As if I’d go along with that. Typical mortals, always seeking what they don’t understand, eager to trap things they have no right to touch,” you hissed, earning a followed amused chuckling from Ajaw. 

You paused, the resentment burning in your chest, however, Kinich noted there was something else too as your eyes lingered on him.

Leaving your throne behind and stepping forward, your presence filling the space between all three of you. 

“I have a proposition for you only, though. A contract, let’s call it,” your smile was both inviting and taunting. “We’ll work together, for our mutual benefit. To be frank it is more for my selfish desire than to help you. I’m tired of talking to walls, you see,” your eyes traveled through his body before meeting his gaze again, “Surely, you wouldn’t want to go back with nothing, right?”

Kinich weighed your words carefully, his mind racing through the possibilities and costs. 

He already bore the weight of a pact with Ajaw, and he understood the price of balancing multiple contracts with creatures of such power. Yet the allure of your knowledge, your abilities, was too great to ignore.

Ajaw seemed to be on his edge, cursed both of you facing the absurdity of the offering and what it could bring. 

Nevertheless, Kinich’s mind was set already. With a final, steady breath, he nodded, sealing his decision. Your eyes flashed with a glint of satisfaction, your smirk widening into something altogether dangerous, seductive. You leaned on his ear, your voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I look forward to working with you, Kinich.”

______________________________________________

That day, Kinich hadn’t earned a paycheck. However, he hadn’t left the ruins empty-handed, either.

From then on, his life became a delicate balance of managing two unpredictable forces. Ajaw, with his bristling sarcasm and an unending appetite for murder, had been challenging enough on his own. But adding you, with your teasing demands and cryptic ways, turned Kinich’s daily life into a finely tuned exercise in patience.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months with Kinich adapting himself to the peculiar rhythms of his two ancient companions. 

Ajaw kept volatile, ever-ready to lend his power with a razor-thin line between aid and sabotage. Kinich could call on his abilities freely; but each time, the pixelated dragon took the chance to push him to his limit, toying with him like prey and testing the boundaries of their contract.

You, however, were different. Your contract was filled with stipulations, each one more elusive than the last. Kinich could request your power, your wisdom on ancient lore and mystical ruins, your understanding of secrets hidden for centuries—but each favor required a price. 

He remember the first time he’d needed your help, you smiled wide and said, “Fetch me a Cecilia.”

At first, Kinich hadn’t thought much of it—a flower, seemingly simple enough. Then he realized that Cecilias only bloomed on the cliffs of Mondstadt, a land far from Natlan. And anyone leaving Natlan without permission of the Wayob risked losing themselves, a curse bound by ancient magic. 

That he’d managed to find one spoke to his sheer stubbornness, his ability to navigate through obstacles that should have been impossible.

When he’d finally placed the flower in your hand, your satisfaction had been infuriatingly clear.

It was never straightforward with you. Another time, he’d requested a map of an old ruin rumored to be full of hidden dangers. In return, you’d demanded a simple luxury—a crystal pendant, clear as water, something you could admire as you traveled through dark caves and shadowed forests. A trivial thing, but your smile as you held the pendant was somehow worth the trouble.

Through it all, Kinich found himself unwillingly entangled in your games, constantly navigating the space between the three of you, keeping a balance that was tenuous at best. And even as you continued to provoke him with your playful, cutting comments, he found himself grudgingly relying on you.

There were commissions where you proved to be an invaluable ally. Your intelligence was formidable; your strategies were sound, your insights swift, and you saw through traps that Kinich sometimes missed. Your pride might have been infuriating, but your strange loyalty, he realized, was something rare. 

You kept him on his toes with your challenging personality, pushing him to improve even as you drove him to distraction. And on rare nights, after a long day’s journey or a grueling fight, you’d sit in silence, the air between you calm and oddly comfortable. There were times, with the firelight flickering and casting shadows on your face, that he found himself almost… dazzled.

If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have done it differently. Not that he’d ever admit it to you.

Now, back to present on yet another commission, Kinich found himself partnered with you once more. 

Ajaw had declared the mission too dull to follow, muttering something about it being more suited to “(Y/N)’s ridiculous logic puzzles” than to his taste for battle. Kinich was grateful for the reprieve, though he knew the real challenge would be handling your endless demands and your habit of testing his patience.

You were intelligent and efficient, he could admit that much, but your sharp wit and flirtatious ways were exhausting. You never missed an opportunity to prod at him, to see if you could break through his carefully constructed guard.

As you two moved deeper into the cave, Kinich couldn’t help but feel your eyes on him, watching for every reaction, every flicker of emotion. 

You’ve made a sport of it, brushing close, a sly smile playing on your lips whenever you sensed his irritation, always aiming to get under his skin. And yet, you had an uncanny sense of his well-being. You’d sidestep a trap just in time, then look back to ensure he’d done the same. It was an odd, unspoken protection, one that both irritated and relieved him.

The ruin was as treacherous as any he’d encountered, with more than a few puzzles that made Kinich silently grateful for your presence. You disarmed traps, deciphered carvings he’d never have managed, and stepped through mazes with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. And though you complained all the way through, your pride and determination drove you to succeed.

You both just completed the commission, retrieving the artifact you’d come for, when you turned to him, wiping the dust from your hands. You gave him an amused look, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Well,” you started, your tone laced with that familiar teasing edge. “We’re done here.”

He nodded, grateful for the relative quiet that would follow—until you tilted your head, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Kinich. More than usual. A mora for your thoughts?”

Your tone was light, almost offhand, but your gaze was anything but casual. Something was probing in the way you looked at him, as though searching for an answer he hadn’t voiced. The saurian hunter held your gaze, his own expression carefully neutral, as he considered his response.

He stood still, his gaze lingering. Kinich told himself it was merely to study your expression, to gauge your intentions. But his mind betrayed him, tracing the fine details of your face—from the sharp line of your jaw to the glint in your dragon-like eyes and the slight curve of your lips that seemed forever on the edge of a knowing smile. Your beauty was the kind that defied logic, pulling him in even as he resisted.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally, his tone measured, distant. He turned, motioning for the two of you to leave. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

But you didn’t follow. Instead, you remained where you were, arms folded, head tilted to one side as if you’d only just begun to consider something. The look you gave him was a little too knowing, the glint in your eyes far too familiar. He knew that look of yours. Most of times it meant only thing one: problem.

“Kinich,” you said, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The hunter stopped, exhaling slowly as he turned to face you. His eyes narrowed. You were up to something—that much was clear. You had that dangerous, cat-like look about you, your gaze dark and sharp, as though sizing him up, anticipating his every move. He lifted an eyebrow, his voice a shade more cautious than he’d intended.

“And what would that be, (Y/N)?” he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t reply. Instead, you took a single step closer, your eyes never leaving his. He felt his pulse quicken, though he kept his expression blank.

You moved toward him slowly, a faint, predatory gleam in your eyes. You were close now, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and could catch the hint of some exotic scent lingering in the air. A blend of something earthy and sweet, entirely unique to you.

Kinich steeled himself, forcing his mind to stay sharp, though he found himself captivated despite his best efforts. You paused just a breath away, your gaze flickering over him with the lazy, confident ease of someone who knew exactly the effect you had.

A hint of amusement crept into your smile. “It’s payback time,  Malipo”, you began, your voice low and smooth, laced with an almost sinister edge, “I’ve worked hard today, you see, so I’m feeling a bit… greedy.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

You giggled. “Oh, I could ask for any number of things,” you took a deep sigh and started to circle him. “Power… influence… control of your soul, even.”

He remained quiet. Your smile widened at his lack of reaction, your teeth flashing in the dim light of the ruins. You were enjoying this, taking your time, savoring every second as if you were unwrapping a carefully chosen gift.

“But…,” you murmured, drawing the word out, “I think I’m more fond of something else.” You paused, letting the silence build, each second stretching as you watched him, relishing his quiet wariness.

Finally, your eyes locked with his, and you spoke with deliberate slowness. “Kiss me.”

Silence.

For a moment, Kinich felt his mind go blank, his eyes widening briefly in stunned silence before he quickly regained control, his expression hardening. 

It had to be a game. Another one of your tricks, another way to unsettle him, to get under his skin. But your gaze didn’t waver, your expression calm, almost serene, though he saw the gleam of anticipation behind your eyes.

A dozen thoughts raced through his mind, each one colliding with the next. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound loud and unsteady, and yet he kept his face neutral, his stance calm. This was you, after all. You thrived on unsettling him, on watching him squirm—though he’d learned, over the months, never to give you the satisfaction of seeing his reactions.

But your eyes… you weren’t blinking, weren’t moving. You waited, utterly still, your lips curved into the faintest smirk as you watched him wrestle with himself. He almost thought he saw something genuine in your gaze, something more than the surface-level teasing, but he dismissed the thought quickly. You were you. Cocky, calculating—you had to be playing with him.

“Don’t tell me there’s something you can’t manage, Kinich,” you sighed, your tone equal parts challenge and mockery. “Well. That’s rather disappointing,” you turned, as if prepared to leave, already dismissing the moment with that same enigmatic smile.

Without fully thinking, Kinich’s hand shot out, catching you by the wrist. You stilled, surprise flickering across your face before you concealed it, though your eyes flashed with something he couldn’t name yet. 

For a heartbeat, you stood in silence, your pulse quick and light beneath his fingers. Slowly, he drew you toward him, his arm encircling your waist, anchoring you against him as his other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

He exhaled a soft, reluctant sigh. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he murmured, his voice laced with resignation.

You only laughed softly, a sound that was both daring and pleased, and he could feel your smirk against his skin as he leaned down, finally pressing his lips to yours.

The first contact was a mere tentative brush, barely more than a fleeting touch between your mouths. It was a moment suspended in uncertainty, as though both were testing the boundaries of this unexpected closeness. 

For a breath, you held still, neither moving nor daring to deepen it. But something simmered beneath the surface, a quiet intensity that broke through the silence with an undeniable pull.

Before either could pull away, though, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, an unspoken desire erupting between you two. 

Kinich’s hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his. He could taste the faint, exotic sweetness of your lips as you yielded to him instantly, only to counter with your own ferocity. But it was when your lips parted that a dam seemed to break. 

Eagerly, Kinich took this opportunity and deepened the kiss, your tongues meeting in a dance of defiance and passion. There was a taste of something otherworld in you, a hint of mystery and danger that drew him in even as it warned him. But he ignored the caution, letting himself be consumed by the moment, by the heat, by the softness of your mouth against his, the way you met his every movement with your own, never yielding, never backing down.

It was a silent battle, a clash of wills and sublime frustration as each sought to take the lead, the kiss growing fierce and excited, your breaths mingling with a fervor you could no longer contain.

Your hands slid up from his chest, your touch lingering, savoring the feel of him as your fingers trailed up his neck and into his hair. You tugged slightly, demanding, as if daring him to give you more. Your fingertips were cool yet electric against his skin, igniting something primal, something he rarely let surface.

Kinich responded instinctively, his own restraint slipping as he pressed you back, guiding you toward the rough wall of the ruin. The space between you dissolved entirely as your back met the stone as he lifted you, the pressure of his body firm, claiming.

Your breaths grew heavier. Your hands gripped both his hair and shoulder, your nails lightly pressing into his skin. His hand slid from your waist, tracing the curve of your thighs and ass, pressing your body into his as though anchoring you there. Every inch of him was focused on you, on the feel of you against him, on the pulse of energy that crackled between you, too powerful to ignore.

When you finally broke apart, the world around seemed to settle, the heavy silence filling the air once more. 

Kinich’s breathing was ragged, his pupils wide, and dilated, his pulse still pounding with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. He could feel the warmth of your breath still lingering close, your lips barely an inch apart, almost as if you were challenging him to give in again.

Your expression was slightly unfocused, your usual composure replaced by something vulnerable, exposed. Kinich caught himself enjoying this version of you. There was a faint flush across your cheeks, a look of astonishment that you quickly masked, though it didn’t disappear entirely. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts, things that might have been, things neither of you would admit.

And then you chuckled softly, your voice laced with amusement, your lips curving into a smirk. “My,” you murmured, your tone both teasing and provocative, “I didn’t expect that. Although I can’t say I didn’t like it either.” You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with a playful glint. “As always, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Kinich.”

Kinich didn’t reply immediately, his gaze steady, his expression indecipherable, but there was a depth in his eyes that betrayed him, a lingering trace of something he couldn’t quite banish. 

With a sigh, he finally stepped back, putting a carefully measured distance between you. “Anytime,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “So? Let’s get out of here?”

He turned, giving you space to follow, his demeanor returning to its usual calm, composed state. 

Yet as he moved, he couldn’t ignore the lingering taste of you on his lips, the faint, intoxicating trace that refused to fade. The rational part of him knew this shouldn’t change things—that it couldn’t. You were tied by a pact, bounded by terms he should have expected. This was simply one of your “favors,” a twist you’d added, nothing more.

But as you left the ruins, a sense of awareness settled within him, the quiet realization that for all his caution, he’d succumbed, letting himself be drawn into your orbit, your game. It was dangerous, foolish even, to think this meant anything, to risk feeling for someone who thrived on unpredictability and cunning.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the way you had looked at him, the warmth of your touch, the sensation that still lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

And though he would bury it, push it away, he knew, somewhere in the depths of his guarded heart, that this would stay with him, a taste of something forbidden, lingering, marking him in a way he’d never intended.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Reading Tolkien’s annotated translation of Beowulf, and learning all kinds of things about LOTR and the Silm from it!

First:

Leave here your warlike shields [from Beowulf]

[Tolkien’s commentary; bold mine:] Note the prohibition of weapons or accoutrements of battle in the hall. To walk in with spear and shield was like walking in nowadays with your hat on. The basis of these rules was of course fear and prudence among the ever-present dangers of a heroic age, but they were made part of the ritual, of good manners. Compare the prohibition against drawing a sword in the officers’ mess. Swords of course also were dangerous; but they were evidently regarded as part of a knight’s attire, and he would not in any case be willing to lay aside his sword, a thing of great cost and often an heirloom.

This gives me some perspective around Tolkien’s probable intended tone for the moment in Meduseld in The Two Towers where Aragon strongly protests against being told to leave Andúril (a sword of very great value and ancientry, and very much an heirloom) with the door-warden. From a contemporary perspective it’s easy to read it as Aragorn being unnecessarily prideful and combative, but this passage strongly indicates that Tolkien intends it to be Théoden who is being unreasonable in that event, an indication - along with many others in the scene, prior to Gandalf dislodging Saruman’s influence - that Théoden is being discourteous and behaving in a manner unworthy of a king who is recieving heroes offering aid. (The fact of Meduseld being a ‘golden hall’ like famous Heorot in Beowulf may be deliberate to strengthen the parallel.)

Second (immediately following the above commentary):

But against this danger [from swords] very severe laws existed protecting the ‘peace’ of a king’s hall. It was death in Scandanavia to cause a brawl in the king’s hall. Among the laws of the West Saxon king Ine is found: ‘If any man fight in the king’s house, he shall forfeit all his estate, and it shall be for the king to judge whether he be put to death or not.’

This adds context to the incident in the story of Túrin in The Silmarillion where Saeros taunts Túrin in Menegroth and Túrin responds by throwing a heavy drinking-vessel at him and injuring him (it’s indicated the injury is serious, so I’d take it along the lines of him giving him a broken nose and knocking out some teeth.) It is stated in at least some versions of the story that death is the punishment for drawing weapons in the king’s hall, in line with the historical customs mentioned here. This gives a further emphasis that what actually happens - Túrin is not punished at all and Mablung strongly reprimands Saeros for provoking him - illustrates that Túrin is, Saeros’ behaviour notwithstanding, in very high favour in Menegroth. (Saeros as the king’s counsellor is also in roughly the same position as Unferth in Beowulf, who taunts the titular character - Beowulf responds heatedly but without violence. Tolkien may be setting up a deliberate contrast here.)

Third:

The word hádor is an adjective meaning ‘clear, bright’…it is almost always found in reference to the sky (or the sun or stars). But that association is in description of brightness…

This was one a lightbulb moment: oh, in the name of Hador Goldenhead (the ancestor of Húrin, Túrin, and Tuor in The Silmarillion), ‘Goldenhead’ isn’t an additional name/epessë so much as it’s a glossed translation of ‘Hador’! The guy with bright, golden hair.

Fourth: Going back to the Rohirrim - Edoras, the name of their capital city/royal court, is basically just the Old English for ‘courts’:

under was very frequently used in describing position within, or movement to within, a confined space, especially of enclosures or prisons, ‘within four walls’. Cf. in under eoderas (eoderas being the outer fences of the courts), ‘in amid the courts’….‘eoder’ means both ‘fence (protection)’ and ‘fenced enclosure, a court’.

I’m also learning a lot about Beowulf - Tolkien’s notes are clarifying a lot of tone and nuances, not to mention the political/diplomatic relationships between the different kingdoms, which were confusing me - but it’s amazing how much it reveals about ways that Tolkien’s knowledge informed his legendarium!

[heytheredelulu]

I was wondering if you could do maybe a like feral Bucky? Like maybe they trigger the soldat and instead of him fallowing their orders he goes after the shy curvy little intern of Tony’s? They’ve both been too shy to make a move. I’m cool with whatever spin you put on it, I LOVE your writing.

(Love all your normal kinks so feel free to add those too as you see fit! )

Thank you lovely 🥰 Can’t wait to drool over more of your writing lol

I took this and RAN with it.

It ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated so this one will be broken up into two parts.

I struggled with trying to incorporate Bucky being triggered after the reader already being somewhat aquatinted with him, pining after him, etc. so I went the route I did and I hope it fulfills your request!

Part one will be mostly just plot building with a spicy cliff hanger leading us into a part two of pure smut.

Ready to Comply - Part One - Anon Request

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

C/W: Language, discussion/implications of violence and murder, choking, blood (Bucky is strugglin’ and bites his own hand), a lil sexual tension in prep for part two, he sniffs her coochie, okay?

“Okay, stop. Stop that.” Tony whispered out of the corner of his mouth. You shot him a glance and tugged at your skirt one more time for good measure. He lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “You look fine, Rookie. Very professional. Is that what you needed to hear?”

You scoff and shake your head. “That’s no- I’m not fishing for compliments, I genuinely hate dressing like a fucking secretary.” You grumble, drawing a laugh out of Tony. “And don’t call me ‘Rookie.’” You add with a prod to his chest. He brushes the front of his suit jacket sarcastically in response to your poke and raises his hands defensively, a soft chuckle rising from his throat.

“A fucking secretary? Really? It’s business professional. Did you think I could let you stand next to me in a press conference wearing an old t-shirt and some torn up jeans? We need to create a semblance of professionalism.” He gestures to his own attire with a grin and there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he continues.

“And what’s wrong with ‘Rookie’? You’re my little protégé.” He jests, reaching like he’s going to pinch your cheek as if you were some adorable little toddler. You frown, swatting his hand away and brings it to his chest, clutching it dramatically. “Wow, you’re going to assault your friend, mentor and extremely rich and handsome boss?” He jokes, feigning offense.

“The only accurate adjective in that sentence is ‘boss’, Sir.” You reply dryly, crossing your arms. The corners of his lips twitch into a sly smile and he nudges you with his elbow. “I’ll accept if you don’t agree with friend and mentor.” He starts, pressing his lips into a pout. “But I might actually get a little offended if you refuse to acknowledge how devastatingly handsome I am.”

You groan in annoyance and roll your eyes, preparing a witty comeback when Pepper Potts rounds the corner with a tablet cradled in her arm, a phone nestled between her ear and shoulder and an expression of concern written across her face.

“Everything alright?” Tony asks, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me.. another offer for People’s ‘sexiest man alive’? I keep telling them, I can’t be on the cover every ye-“ Tony stops mid sentence as Pepper’s manicured forefinger lands on his lips, effectively silencing him.

“Yes. Okay. Understood. Thank you.” She says curtly into the phone before disconnecting the call. “That was Fury. We have an issue. A Barnes issue.”

Your brows furrow at this. “What’s happened with Bucky?” You ask, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. He’d been all but isolated since he’d moved into the Avenger’s tower alongside his best friend Steve Rogers and you couldn’t imagine him being the source of an issue with how reserved this man was. You weren’t at all oblivious to his past- it had been global wide news after all, but in the months since his de-conditioning in Wakanda he had been making great strides towards recovery, working to make amends.

Though your interactions with the ex-assassin had been few, he’d always been polite and kind towards you. You’d felt so out of place among the Avengers, being Tony’s intern. You weren’t on the team, hell, a few of them didn’t even know your name despite you having been trailing behind Tony for the last year. Maybe it was your own fault, considering you hadn’t really made an effort to talk to any of them but aside from the fact that they were all extremely intimidating, you were naturally a shy and quiet person.

You quickly push the self deprecating thoughts from your head. You didn’t care about any of that. You shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be on the team, or were there to make friends, you were here as an engineer, to learn from who was arguably the most intelligent man on the planet. Perhaps that’s why Bucky had always been cordial to you more than some of the others living here. Maybe he gravitated towards you, as someone who constantly felt so out of place, because he felt that way here as well.

Or maybe he thought you were cute.

Oh fuck, if only.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to the man or that you’d been quietly crushing on him practically since you’d started your internship. Every small interaction with Bucky left a blush on your cheeks and a kaleidoscope of butterflies flitting about your belly.

The thought of someone as absurdly good looking as Bucky fucking Barnes finding you attractive was enough to spark a surge of heat straight to your abdomen.

No, get it together. Now’s not the time.

You mentally scold your vagina for having the nerve to throb at the mere mention of Bucky Barnes regardless of the context and turn your attention back to Pepper and Tony as they argued in hushed whispers.

“What’s happened with Bucky?” You repeat, knowing they likely won’t clue you in if it’s related to Avenger’s business.

Tony offers a nervous smile and exchanges a quick glance with his wife before he checks his watch. “Terminator? He’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably holed up with security for setting off the metal detector.” He pauses and then snaps his fingers. “Or maybe he walked past the junkyard on fifth and got snatched up by the hydraulic magnet.” He says, lifting a hand and miming a crane.

Pepper lets out a soft sigh and your gaze flicks to her. “Yeah, a big magnet or something.” She mumbles, turning her attention back to her tablet. “I don’t think that’s-“ Your cut off by Tony’s hand on the small of your back, urging you forward. “Enough about Robocop. We’re on, Rookie.” He says, his nervous expression falling away and quickly being replaced with a mask of professionalism. “Let’s go unveil our project to the press.” Pepper moves to open the door for you both and before you can open your mouth to tell Tony that if he calls you ‘rookie’ one more time you were going to strangle him with his overpriced tie, your senses are overwhelmed with an onslaught of overlapping voices and camera shutters.

You toss your blazer over the desk in your quaint office and slump over into the chair, trying not to let your mind run wild with anxious thoughts about the press conference. Despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but worry that you probably looked like a deer in headlights up at the podium alongside Tony.

You huff and rest your chin on the back of your hand, glancing over at the computer screens. Your attention is immediately drawn to security footage from one of the conference rooms when you see movement on the monitor. You lean in with your brows furrowed. It’s late and no one should be in the conference room. You expand the image and can clearly make out Tony and Steve moving about the room with tense body language.

You hover over the footage with your mouse and hesitate. You know that you absolutely should not eavesdrop on the two men but once Tony’s hands begin angrily gesturing around you give in to temptation and turn on the audio.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘back up?’” Tony shouts, beginning to pace the room.

Steve leans forward with his palms on the table and his head bowed slightly. “It’s exactly what I said, Tony.” He replies, his biceps flexing as he grips the table. “HYDRA had a fail safe. They’d planted a back up activation incase he would ever manage to be deprogrammed.” He looks up at Tony with a solemn expression. “They got to him. I should’ve been there, I should’ve-“

Tony holds out a hand, his other resting against his temple as he tries to comprehend what Steve is telling him. “Well you weren’t and they did so know we have to figure out how the fuck we navigate this.” He says firmly, shaking his head. “Do we have eyes on him? Is he in the building?”

Steve sighed and stood upright from the table. “No. He’s in the wind. We lost contact with him a few hours ago.” He admits, running a hand through his hair. “But there’s something you need to know.” He adds, looking at Tony with concern as he begins to pace again.

“Well spit it out, Rogers!” Tony yells, stopping and turning back to Steve.

“Nat received some intel. The hit HYDRA ordered is on you and your intern.” He says so quietly you can barely pick it up on the audio. Fear crawls up your spine and your hand trembles as you increase the volume on the security feed, while your heartbeat in your ears becomes near deafening.

Tony stiffens, slowly approaching Steve. “You wanna tell me why?” He asks, his voice low and dangerous. Steve nods. “The new tech you unveiled today.“ He explains.

Tony sighs, understanding why one of their enemies would be threatened by what the two of you had been working on and reaches to loosen his tie. “I’ll take Pepper and move her to the safe house before I meet you at a rendezvous point. Send someone to get my Rookie and get her off the grid. I don’t want her alone for a single second.” He says in an exasperated tone, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out his cell phone as he stalks towards the door.

“And Rogers?” He asks, turning around one last time, his hand curled tight around the doorknob. Steve’s head snaps up and he looks at Tony with guilt ridden eyes. “Yeah?”

“Find Barnes.”

Find Barnes.

The statement echoes in your ears, sending your thoughts spinning as if a category five hurricane were waging inside your head.

No. No, no, no.

There’s a hit out on you?

To be carried out by the fucking Winter Soldier.

Oh you were so fucked.

You scoot your chair back, bracing your hands on the desk to stand with wobbly knees.

Bile rises in your throat as you take a slow step backwards, bumping the chair in your state of panic and knocking your jacket off the workbench. You jump at the sound of it slipping to the floor and clutch your chest as a result of inducing your own jumpscare and take slow breaths to steel your nerves before you bend down to pick it up. As you rise back upright, your gaze connects with a pair of vacant, icy blue eyes in the shadows across the room and your entire body seizes in terror.

He’s not in the wind.

He’s been in here with you this entire goddamned time.

“B-Bucky?” You stutter, bringing your jacket to your chest and grasping it until your knuckles turn white. Maybe Steve and Tony were wrong. Maybe Nat’s intel was wrong. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding and you weren’t about to die at the hands of the ex-assassin you’ve been pining over for nearly a year.

He takes a step forward from the shadows, his face expressionless and his eyes unblinking without a single trace of emotion behind them.

Okay, yeah. You’re fucked.

“Sergeant Barnes?” You whisper, almost a plea to the man you knew, locked away somewhere in the brain of the cold and calculated killer standing in front of you.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t register your words, as he crosses the lab in a few quick strides and catches your throat in his cybernetic hand.

Oh god.

The air leaves your lungs, his grip tightening around your windpipe as his face remains blank.

You’re going to die.

So why are you so fucking turned on?

Heat pools low in your abdomen, your core flooding with arousal, coupled with fear and unbridled lust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as you gasp and thrash in his grip, your thick thighs rubbing together with every kick and flail, doing nothing to alleviate the throbbing ache in your cunt.

God this is so wrong.

His brows furrow, the first hint of emotion since he stepped out of the shadows. His head tilts inquisitively and his grip slackens around your throat as he leans in, tracing his nose across your jaw line and inhaling deeply. You still, your face contorting in confusion as you swallow hard against his palm, leaning your body into his hold.

His eyes narrow as he pulls away from you and you take the opportunity to suck in a breath, massaging your neck gently while your gaze drops to observe his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” You ask, wondering what’s caused the sudden shift in his demeanor, wondering if maybe he’s somehow snapped out of the trance he’d been in. He’s still and silent for a long moment, his head bowed as his chest rises and falls heavily with every breath.

“Sergeant Barnes, are yo-“

His head snaps up, effectively silencing you.

Your mouth remains agape, stuck on your last word and as he watches you with predatory eyes, taking menacing steps toward you, you can’t seem to find your voice any longer. You stumble backwards, losing your balance and falling back against the desk, unable to regain your footing before his hands grip the flesh of your bare thighs.

He tilts you backwards, your back colliding hard with the surface of the desk, stealing the breath out of your chest. He drops to his knees, splaying his palms against your thighs, the hem of your dress rising up to expose your panties as he spreads your legs wide before him and drags his nose across the fabric.

He groans.

He fucking groans.

“You’re my mission.” He breathes out, eyes wild and fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as if he were fighting to physically restrain himself.

“I know.” You whimper, lifting your head to look down at him over the soft curve of your stomach.

“I’ve been ordered to kill you.” He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your inner thigh and drawing in a deep and shuddering breath.

“Then why haven’t you?” You ask in a broken whisper.

He turns his head and mumbles something incoherently, his breath ghosting against the damp fabric of your underwear and sending a wave of arousal crashing through your core. He stiffens, curling his flesh hand into a fist and bringing it to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as he swallows back a moan.

He shakes his head, his teeth pressing into his skin hard enough to draw blood and you move to sit up, leaning on your palms as you look down at him where he’s slotted between your legs, visibly trembling.

He rises quickly to his feet, his left hand shooting out to curl around your neck again and he drops his bloodied flesh hand to his side.

“Because..” He says through clenched teeth, inhaling sharply as the cool metal of his thumb strokes the column of your throat.

“I can’t fucking focus when all I can smell-“

His free hand roughly cups your pussy over your panties, his voice trailing off as he kneads his palm against the thin, wet fabric.

He growls, tightening his grip around your throat and jerking you up to him, forcing you to meet his threatening gaze.

His expression grows pained and he whimpers, dipping his head to meet your forehead with his own, his breath fanning across your face with every heave of his chest.

“All I can smell is how wet you are.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@suz7days @blackbirdwitch22 @truthfulliarr @lilacka

Part two