#but the thing is that its only worse for me

[mejaemin]

met baby - choi seungcheol

(18+) mdni !!! wc: 1.6k summary: s.coups, your rapper bf, surprises you with his appearance at the met warnings: celeb!reader, scoups is a solo rapper and NOT an idol, bathroom stuff, light daddy kink, fingering, mentions of the iconic bathroom pics + my king asap rocky, not proofread an: this look is driving me fucking crazy. congrats to my baby, i’m so proud of u !! now get in my bed.

he didn’t tell you he’d be here. you hop out of the car, manager fixing your dress, and there’s plenty of cameras that capture your absolutely shell shocked expression at the sight of your boyfriend, rapper choi seungcheol, posing for the carpet.

you genuinely have to be snapped out of it, brought back to life from your trance, to stop you from holding up the line and get your own photos taken. even as they make you spin, pose and turn every which way, behind your golden smile, the only thing on your mind is choi seungcheol.

he looks beautiful, silver hair (which you also had the pleasure of being uninformed of) matching his dusty blue-grayish suit. it’s paired with a dark, robe-like outer piece, and he looks both like the business man of your dreams and a character from a sci-fi movie. he fits the theme perfectly, and you’re so grateful for that because, as someone who’s attended multiple times, you’ve expressed your distaste for people not following the theme multiple times. he definitely understood the assignment, and when he steps off the carpet, making room for you, there’s a smirk on his face that you so wish you could wipe off.

you’re seated in different areas, of course, but you made sure your chair was in a spot where he’d stay in your line of sight. being such a talented, expensive girl has its perks, especially when it comes to your connections with the co-chairs. speaking of, you’re supposed to be in conversation with one of them, but your dismissive responses tell him enough. once all the attendees have settled in, everyone was introduced and finally allowed to mingle. your seatmates shoo you away, and you couldn’t complain as you make your way to him.

he immediately stops his conversations with other people, turning to you with a smirk. “surprise, baby.” you’re already on heels that scream ankle problems, so it’s easy to lean forward and plant your lips on his. he’s eager to welcome it, hands on your waist as he leans in further.

“this is so unfair, seungcheol. you saw the whole process of my look, and i get to have my heart attack live streamed because you hid all this from me?” you have to keep yourself from yelling, completely forgetting where you’re at as you look at him, up close. even his face is perfect, from his eyebrows to his flawless skin, all the way to his lips that pop out with his new hair.

“oops?” he laughs, and you shake your head. he’s so calm, collected as he converses with the other celebrities in the vicinity. he even manages to exchange contacts with some of them, landing collabs and features. he looks so hot like this, holding you on his arm like you’re the newcomer while he makes flawless conversation with people you’ve known for years. you’re conscious enough to greet them, making small conversation with those that you’re closer with. still, you can’t be bothered, and your fingers get antsier against his belt loop the closer you get to the bathroom.

you’re right there, and with your incessant tugging at his overly long cape-like blazer, you know he gets the message. he’s given you that calm down look at least a hundred times, thick eyebrow raising with darkened eyes, but he’s only making it worse. he helps make your way there, and before you even fully step in the door, your hands are all over him, feeling him up over his clothes, hands starvingly gripping at his half hardness in his slacks.

he picks you up, large hands gripping your hips as he sets you down on the marble counter. his lips are on yours like a magnet, moving with a desperation that really emulates the feeling of reuniting after weeks of fittings and shoots. he’s so cool, composed, but you know the time apart’s been torturous for him, if the voice messages he’s left you in response to the photos you’ve sent during fittings said anything.

“you just can’t wait, now can you?” his voice is husky, rumbling against you as he very gently bites at your neck.

you slide his outerwear off his shoulders, pulling him closer to you by the waistband on his pants. with the slit in your dress, you push all the fabric to the side so your legs can move freely, wrapping around him to keep him close. “cheollie, it’s been weeks.. i need you so bad, right now…” you whine, pushing your hands under his clothes to feel his bare skin. it eases the buzzing in your veins, changing it to pure desire that floods your underwear as your fingers glide over the hair under his belly button.

“we don’t have much time in here..” he runs his hand through his hair, cursing when he remembers where he’s at, looking in the mirror to put it back. his sleeve falls a little, and the glint of his watch catches your eye. so expensive, so him, it makes him all the more attractive. “i’ll help you, baby, we gotta be quick, okay? that sound good?” he asks, one hand sliding up your leg as he leans down to kiss you.

you nod, “please, cheollie, i need it..” your voice is tiny, soft, and you give him the sweetest look ever to help sway him. he only looks down at you, fingers teasing your waistband, eyebrow raised expectantly. you whine, “please, daddy… i’ll take anything you give me, jus’ can’t wait anymore..”

he chuckles lowly. “thank you, princess, for asking so nicely..”

his head dips down to the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses all over your skin and a trail of cherry red lip stain. he pulls up his sleeves, revealing his toned forearms, and you can’t see much with his body in the way, but the cool metal gliding against your thigh makes them twitch.

he pulls your underwear to the side, a shaky sigh of his own sounding when he comes in contact with your heat. you’re dripping, you have been since you got here. it’s so tempting to get down on his knees and taste you, he wants to so bad, but someone would definitely notice if the lower half of his makeup had been wiped off.

“you’re so wet, baby.. you like the look that much?” he asks, teasing, thumb rubbing over your clit. even the gentlest touch has your head spinning, the little mhm you respond to him with sounding extra desperate.

seungcheol’s fingers push into you, watch band jingling as he gently thrusts them into you. the glint of all the rocks embedded in it shine under the dim lights. it’s so pretty, and the way your slick spills onto your thighs and spreads onto the piece makes his pants all the tighter. same with his rings, ones he didn’t bother taking off before touching you.. they’re cold as they touch your skin, pushing against your entrance with every curl of his fingers. another addition to his expensive look, so pretty and dirtied by your arousal.

your body is burning, so overwhelmed by seungcheol’s intoxicating scent, his oh so enticing jewelry, and the way he works you open like it’s nothing. you’re quivering, biting into your fist to keep quiet, rolling your hips into his hand, clit rubbing against the heel of his palm.

“so good, cheollie, gonna cum soon..” you whimper, holding his thick forearm in your hands.

he kisses your temple, so sweet and tender compared to his vigorous, vulgar movements between your legs. he knows what he’s doing, pouting and cooing at you as if your legs aren’t quivering against his sides.

“i know baby, i can feel it. you can let go, i’ve got you.” he kisses you, nice and deep against your lips, tongue dipping into your mouth and swallowing all the noises that try to escape.

the sounds filling the bathroom are so vulgar, the squelching of your boyfriend’s fingers inside you, blending with your lips smacking and the little moans that slip out. it’s so hot, and the coil in your lower half is impossibly tight. you know seungcheol is just as into it, his gaze locked onto your entrance and all the pretty gems on his wrist shining as he fingers you. his cock is throbbing, pushing against his pants, leaving very little to your imagination.

“cum, baby, we have to go back out soon.. don’t wanna get in trouble..” he whispers, teeth pulling at your earlobe, and his deep voice teasing your eardrums is all it takes for you to break.

your back arches, face scrunched in a silent scream as you’re pushed over the edge. seungcheol’s fingers are stuck, your walls squeezing him impossibly tight, free hand rubbing your clit to help you ride out your orgasm. he hums, licking his lips at the sight, hovering over you as you come down.

slowly, he pulls his fingers out, observing your mess before pressing them into your mouth. he mumbles something about the price of his rings, and your tongue swirls over them to clean them up as best you can. once done, he straightens you up and helps you off the counter.

it’s seemingly perfect timing, because nearly half the guests are suddenly rushing in. you smile, hiding your face in his shoulder when one of your friends raises an eyebrow at you. it’s then that you remember to relay to your boyfriend that it’s time for the annual bathroom photo, one everyone squeezes into when you’re not really even allowed to take it. you and him are in the front, and you stand in front of seungcheol to hide his boner before the camera clicks. his hands are on your waist, and after the photo is sent to you later in the night, you can observe it a little further. you’re both so beautiful, all flushed and serving the most gorgeous face, but also so unbelievably fucked if that photo ever gets posted.

svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie @prettymoles

[strkly]

misunderstanding

s.m: you and bob were inseparable. until he begins to ignore you and you have no clue why. when you’re injured after a mission gone wrong you’re finally able to find out why.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x avengers!gn!reader

w.c: 2k

c.w: hurt/comfort, bob being avoidant (but he means well), two idiots in love, hea, reader implied to be an og avenger, no use of y/n, thunderbolts spoilers obv. not proofread and intentionally lower case.

a.n: as soon as i finished the thunderbolts i wrote this LOL. im already working on like three more for him

After you had all saved the city and had been established as the new avengers you and bob had been inseparable. you had chucked it up to you just seeming the friendliest out of all of them but the looks the rest of the team all exchanged with one another anytime the two of you were around told you they thought otherwise.

you watched movies with him, went to go get milkshakes together, helped him with the chores around the base, there wasn't really a second the two of you weren't together unless you were out on a mission or sleeping.

yet as a recent theres been a shift. hes been avoiding you. its so obvious to not only you but everyone else in the team, he was more than happy to chat with yelena ava alexei hell he’d even rather talk to walker than he’d rather talk to you. the only person also seemingly receiving the cold shoulder from bob was bucky who shrugged when you asked him if he had any clue what was going on.

whenever you would walk into the room and smile at him he stared at you wide eyed before rushing out the room mumbling to himself before you could say anything to him. you tried not to let your heart break show on your face as you watched him flee the room as you had entered. you had been so determined to get him to talk to you today after over a week of nothing from him but watching him run away from you killed any sort of motivation you once had.

the pout only grows on your face as you feel yelena pat your back in pity. “i dont know what i did wrong.” shes quiet for a moment before she speaks, “dont worry im sure he’ll get over this weird phase and you’ll get back to normal in no time.” you look down at your feet and sigh, maybe she was right. you knew he struggled with his mental health maybe he just needed space yet the idea of that being it just made you feel worse. he had always confided in you, told things he wouldnt even tell the therapist he started seeing. it made you feel trust worthy, like the two of you had a bond stronger than words could describe. you like him, you like him so much your heart feels like its about to burst out of your chest at the thought of him.

it was later that same night. you could see the light peering out from under his door. he was up, but when you knocked on his door you were only greeted with silence. “bob?” silence. you sigh before pressing your head up against the door. “i just wanted to say goodbye, were leaving for the mission, me and bucky.” you can hear some shuffling inside at your words, you almost let yourself hope he’s about to come to the door but after a few more beats he still doesn’t respond.

“i miss you bob.” the words spill out before you’re able to stop them, “im sorry, for whatever ive done im so sorry, i just want use to go back to the way we were. i miss you so much, i hope we can talk once i’m back. goodbye.” you force yourself away from the door as the tears begin to pour down your face you don't even bother to glance back at the door as you exit the hallway and down to the area where bucky is waiting for you. he doesn't comment on your tear stricken face, simply just placing hand on your shoulder and asking if your ready to go. with a quick nod you join him on the ship and your off. you silently thank him for it.

what you don’t know is bob is curled up in a ball in his bed, pressing his face tightly against the stuffed bear you had bought him as a gift as he tried to silence his own sobs. it was for the better, he told himself over and over again. you didn't need him, not when you had him, you were better off without him as much as it made his heart ache.

five days. it had been five days since you had left and bob felt like he was losing his mind. he didnt leave his room, laying and rotting in his bed hoping the universe would just swallow him up. it took yelena and walker finally coming into his room to force him out of bed much to his dismay. he couldnt stomach to eat anything, shaking his head and hanging it down like a child clinging his stuffed bear to his chest while they tried. he knew it was a pathetic display but he couldnt find it in himself to care.

the rest of the team stares at him in pity, unsure of what to say. they all knew what he was going through, the only one oblivious to it was you, as walker finally sighed and opened his mouth to speak they all froze at the sound of the doors slamming open. “can somebody call a doctor?” bucky called out and everyone turned to see him enter the room. you were held in buckys arms, all beaten up covered in blood. bobs head spins, he doesnt hear the sounds of everyone asking what happened he doesnt see ava running off to get medic all he sees if you and he faints.

the mission was supposed to be easy. it was easy, until the last guy standing ended up being a mutant neither of you were prepared for. you ended up taking the bigger hit and bucky quickly finished the job rushing to take you back to the tower. your injuries were not life threatening but you lost a lot of energy in the fight and had ended up knocked out for a couple days. when you regain consciousness the first thing you hear is his voice. bob. he’s talking with someone whos voice you an barely make out, based on the brass and tone you assume its bucky. you cant make out what he’s saying but you cant bring yourself to open your eyes just yet.

footsteps ensue with a couple final words exchanged before the gentle opening and closing of the door and suddenly you’re alone with him. you can hear the scrapping of a chair and suddenly his very warm body heat flows next to you, you can feel his hands playing with the blanket as he sniffs. “please wake up.” you still cant open your eyes, maybe you’re still too tired but a part of you thinks you simply want to hear what he’s going to say.

“im- im so stupid. im so so so so stupid. all ive been dreaming about is seeing you again,” you feel him place his head on your stomach and you try to keep your heart and breathing at a regular pace, “i wanna sit on the couch together and watch movies and drink milkshakes and talk about anything with you i miss you please i was so stupid please just wake up so i can hear your voice again.” your chest aches and you fight the frown growing on your face. you open your eyes, realizing his has his face turned away from you. when you go to speak he manages to beat you to it. “i was so jealous.”

his words have you almost gasping before quickly closing your eyes again realizing he was turning his head to look at you. your mind running a mile a minute, you had no clue what he was talking about but his words had you hopeful, you couldnt help but be eager for whatever he was about to say. “he’s so much cooler than me. i get why you must like him, i just,, i just wish i could be the one you like. the one you think is cool but i know im not worthy of that.” what? you almost find the word spilling out from your lips but you manage to stop yourself. “i just couldnt do it anymore, after i saw you guys in the kitchen, you were smiling at him, i couldnt make that ache in my chest go away like you taught me and whenever i saw you it just go worse so i ran away like a coward. im such a loser.”

it finally clicks. you remember.

it was late at night. you had stepped out of your room to get a glass of water. when you got to the kitchen bucky was also there drinking a glass of whiskey, the two of you chatted for a moment and when you opened up the dishwasher to get a glass you busted out laughing at the sight of his metal arm in the dishwasher. “what the hell is that doing in there?” “what how do you think i clean the damn thing?” ‘not in the dishwasher! you’re so stupid bucky.” he walks towards you and leans down to be face to face with you, “thats why you like me doll.” you grin and hit him on the chest, shaking your head. “shut up.”

you opened your eyes once more and realize he had pushed his face to be pressing against your stomach. slightly shaking as he sobbed lightly into the fabric. your heart ached, realizing how sad he must have been. how lonely he must have felt. he freezes when you put your hand on his hair lightly running your fingers through it. “i dont like bucky.” your words are course, its clear your throat is yearning for some sort of hydration but you dont care. his head flys up and he looks at you with his wide wet eyes. your name tumbles from his trembling lips but you still continue to speak. “ive known him for a long time, he’s called me that for forever, he was just joking around with me i dont like him i promise.” he continues to stare at you in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he clenches his jaw and looks down at the floor, mumbling to himself, “im so stupid.”

as much as it hurts you force yourself to sit up and touch his shoulder. he looks up at you, a much sadder expression having taken over his face. “i love you bob.” his breath hitches, “i love you so much it kills me.” you wait for him to say something back, anything in return but he simply stares. you wait for him, you’re so patience with him he just can’t help himself.

you yelp in surprise when he suddenly laches onto you and you fall back with him ontop of you. you ignore how much your body burns in pain as he shoves his head in your neck. “i love you i love you so much.” you feel so much relief your eyes burn with tears. you can hear him mumbling over and over again that he loves you and it feels unreal, like youre dreaming and youll wake up soon.

“bob look at me.” he reluctantly pulls away from you and stares at you with heart eyes, your hands gently cup his face before pressing your lips against his. he eagerly but sloppily returns it, clearly inexperienced but you cant even find yourself caring as you can feel him brightly smile against you all other thoughts float away from you.

hours later when bucky comes back to check on you a smile falls on his lips as he sees bob laying on top of you and the two of you asleep peacefully, both of you unknowingly smiling in your sleep. he shakes his head before walking away. he pulls out his phone and clicks a couple things before raising it to his ear as he walks down the hall. “you own me 50 sam i told you they would get together.”

[im-human-i-matter-i-exist]

@oripoke @delirious-dove @deludeddragon @rinbedo *IM* THE ONE YOU OWE AN APOLOGY TO?!? YOU DEFEND THE HATE ATTACKS "not hate" WHEN IT WAS PAGES OF VILE CRUELTY TO SOMEONE ALREADY SUFFERING SO MUCH. IF SOMEONE WAS RAPED YOUR GROUP WOULD SAY SHE DESERVED IT "because she was being unhinged about it" YOU LITERALLY TORTURED ME YOU RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE YOURE MONSTERS YOURE EVIL MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP PAIN PAIN 11 MONTHS NONSTOP TORTURE I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME MY HOME MY SAVINGS MY FRIENDS MY TRANS HEALTHCARE MY ARM MY DIGNITY MY BOYDRIEND HOPE MY CAT ESPECIALLY NY FUCKING CAT YOU MONSTERS?!?! MY FUTURE MY CRAFT YOU RUINED MY LIFE YOU RUINED MY LIFE KILL ME FUCKING KILL ME MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!?!?!?! GHOSTED AND DIDNT EVEN TELL ME WHY IM FUCKING AUTISTIC NOBODY SAID A THING HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT I DID WRONG??? I DIDNT DO ANYTHING BUT LOVE YOU AND LISTEN TO YOU UNTIL I COULDNT TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE AND NOW THE ONLY THING YOU PEOPLE CAN DO IS GO "Hmm yes what unhinged behavior" AS IF YOU DIDNT STRAND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH NO FOOD NO FRIENDS NO FAMILY AND NO MONEY WITHOUT A WORD, WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL DYING THRICE OVER AND GETTINF ASSAULTED AND INFECTIONS ON THE ROAD YOU WERE PARTYING AND SHAKING YOUR HEADS LIKE "Hmm such a tragedy" YOU. CAUSED. IT!!!! YOU KNEW MY SITUATUON AND ENCOURAGED YOUR CULT TO MAKE IT WORSE!! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP I JUST WANTED TO TALK TO MY FRIENDS I APOLOGIZED 1,000 TIMES AND IT MEANT NOTHING, I TRIED TO TALK AND IT MEANT. NOTHING I JUST WANTED TO KNOW 1. IF RORY WAS OKAY AND 2. FOR BEAN TO STOP CONTROLLING AND ABUSING ME. YOU KNEW IT WAS ABUSE BUT YOU BACKPEDALED **HARD** BECAUSE IM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ARTIST FOR YOUR CULT AND GROUP GHOSTED ME WITH NOTHING!!! YOURE AWFUL I TRUSTED YOU I DID EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME TO DO AND YOU RUINED ME FOR LISTENING MAKE IT STOP JUST MAKE IT STOP MAKE THE PAIN STOP YOURE EVIL YOURE MONSTERS MAKE IT  STOP!!!?! IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER!!!! YOU POMPOUS PRIVELEGED ASSHOLE WILL NEVER HAVE TO EXPERIENCE 1/5TH OF THE HELLSCAPE YOU FORCED ME INTO IM TELLING THE TRUTH JUST BECAUSE ITS BEING YELLED IT DOESNT MEAN ITS UNTRUE IF I WERE PEA YOUD PAT ME ON THE BACK FOR "being direct and blunt with my feelings" IF I WERE BEAN YOUD UNDERSTAND MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND THE TRAUMA YOU **FORCED*** ME INTO FOR NO FUCKING REASON. BUT IM NOT SO YOU INSTEAD ABUSED ME TREATED ME LIKE DIRT AND LEFT ME TO THE DOGS YOURE FUCKING MONSTERS YOURE EVIL YOURE VILE VILE VILE!!!!

This panic happens like every few months.

[mintyys-blog]

mark variants with s/o that has a big butt 😼

HEADCANON | mark variants with s/o who has a big butt

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: swearing

MAIN MARK

It started innocently enough.

You were crouching in front of the TV stand, digging for an HDMI cord, when you heard it:

smack.

A sharp gasp left you as you shot up and turned to find Mark standing behind you, looking far too proud of himself.

“What was that?” you asked, scandalized and flustered.

He shrugged with a crooked grin, eyes unapologetically dipping down before meeting your glare again. “What? You bent over. You know the rules.”

“I never agreed to any rules,” you grumbled, brushing past him.

But the damage was done. Because from then on, it was routine. If you were reaching into the dryer? Smack. Picking up the remote from under the couch? Smack. Dropping something in the kitchen? You might as well have painted a target on yourself.

“Mark!” you’d yelp every time.

“What?” he’d say with the most innocent voice, even as his hand was still on your butt.

And of course, sometimes he’d just… grab it. Especially when cuddling or standing behind you while cooking. You’d try to elbow him off, only for him to mutter something like, “It’s comforting,” or “This is my emotional support booty.”

Worse? During intimate moments, he’d press up behind you with a low groan, one hand running down your side until it found home.

“Seriously, how is it this soft and this good?” he’d whisper into your skin. “You’re making it impossible to focus.”

You’d roll your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks, but you weren’t exactly pulling away either. He was your sweet, horny golden retriever of a boyfriend—and clearly obsessed.

SINISTER MARK

You didn’t even bend down anymore without checking if he was in the room. Because if he was?

Smack.

“Damn,” Mark would mutter lowly behind you, voice like velvet and smoke. “That thing should come with a warning.”

You jolted upright with a half-hearted glare. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

He leaned in, arm sliding around your waist, hand naturally finding its favorite spot. “What? I’m just claiming what’s mine.”

Sometimes he didn’t even wait for a reason—he’d walk past, eyes flicking down, then give you a firm grab and a hum of satisfaction. And if you looked scandalized?

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he’d growl in your ear. “You know I love watching you try to act mad when your face is that red.”

When things got heated, he always seemed to end up with a hand full of it, palming you shamelessly as he whispered dark things into your ear, his voice rough with possession.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he’d murmur against your skin. “Walking around like that’s not a fucking weapon.”

You’d pretend to scoff—but the goosebumps betrayed you every time.

Sinister Mark didn’t just appreciate your body—he worshiped it in his own intense, unrelenting way. And your ass?

It was his personal obsession.

MOHAWK MARK

“You know I’m lookin’ every time you walk away, right?”

Mark never bothered to hide it. In fact, he’d stare—smirking, tongue flicking across his teeth, eyes shamelessly glued to the way your hips moved when you walked across the room.

And bending over? Forget about it.

The second you leaned forward—maybe to grab something off the floor, maybe just to tempt him—he was there, hand already coming down with a loud smack.

“Damn, baby,” he’d laugh when you jolted and yelped, hand already sliding over the curve he just struck, “you tryna get me killed? You know what that does to me.”

And he really couldn’t help himself when you wore tight shorts or walked around the house in just one of his shirts—he’d grind against you from behind, grip your waist, and mutter, “You know what I’m gonna ask for tonight.”

Let’s be real: reverse cowgirl and doggie were his favorites for a reason. He got to watch it move, grab it, feel it—all while smirking like the cocky menace he was.

“Mm. Just like that. You know I’m obsessed, right?” Mark loved your ass. And he made damn sure you knew it every day.

VILTRUMITE MARK

Mark didn’t say much—but his eyes always said enough.

When you passed him in the hallway, or when you bent to pick something up, you could feel his gaze—low, heavy, burning. He wouldn’t catcall. Wouldn’t make crude comments.

But he’d watch. Always watch.

Sometimes you’d catch him lingering in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but the flicker in his eyes gave him away. Watching the sway of your hips. The subtle jiggle when you moved. His mouth would twitch like he wanted to say something… but didn’t.

He didn’t smack. He didn’t tease. But when he held you?

He grabbed.

Calloused hands sinking in, strong enough to lift you like nothing—but his touch was almost reverent. Quiet, possessive.

“This is mine,” he’d murmur in your ear, low and firm, during moments when you were wrapped around each other. “All of you.”

And maybe he wouldn’t say it often—but every time you moved in just the right way and caught him staring? He didn’t look away. He never looked away.

PRISONER MARK

Mark didn’t even try to hide it.

You’d bend down to grab something, and before you could even straighten up—smack.

“You really expect me not to touch that?” he’d say with a lazy grin, one arm looping around your waist from behind, the other gripping a handful of you like it was his damn birthright.

“I’m only human,” he’d mumble against your neck, clearly lying through his teeth.

He loved your curves—obsessed, really. The way your body fit against his, the softness, the shape of you in anything (or nothing) drove him insane. Sometimes you’d catch him just staring while you walked past in his hoodie, biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying to behave.

Spoiler: he never behaved.

During lazy mornings, he’d lay in bed with his head on your thighs or your butt like it was a pillow he’d kill to keep. If you teased him about it, he’d just smirk, pull you closer, and say:

“You don’t even know what you do to me, babe. God made you with me in mind.”

Cocky. Helplessly in love. And your ass? His favorite part of the whole damn universe.

MASKLESS MARK

Mark wasn’t loud about it—never was—but the way he touched you said everything.

He didn’t catcall or whistle when you bent down… but you’d feel the press of his hand at the small of your back, the slow slide downward, and then the firm, deliberate squeeze. Like he was testing something he already knew fit perfectly in his palm.

He didn’t need to say much. A low grunt. A dark glance. His eyes would track every sway of your hips when you walked past—focused, like he was studying a weapon.

Sometimes, during casual moments—folding laundry, brushing your teeth—he’d come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and hook his chin over your shoulder.

“You always wear stuff like this to distract me?” he’d mutter, eyes fixed in the mirror on the curve of your backside.

When things got more heated, he definitely favored angles that let him see it move. His hands would roam—slow, possessive, like you were his to mold. You’d tease him about it, and he’d roll his eyes, but the smirk always gave him away.

He didn’t talk much, but when it came to your ass? His hands said enough.

OMNI MARK

Mark didn’t openly gawk. He was disciplined—Viltrumite blood ran cold when it came to impulse. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking.

He watched you move like a hawk tracked prey: slow, calculated, intense. The moment you bent over to grab something off the floor, his eyes would narrow—following every shift of your hips, the way your shorts clung too perfectly. He wouldn’t say a word. But the grip on his mug might tighten. His jaw might clench.

And later? When you passed by, casually brushing his side, he’d catch your wrist and pull you back—right into his lap.

“You’re going to get someone killed walking around like that,” he’d mutter, lips brushing your ear. “You really think I haven’t noticed what you’re doing?”

You’d grin and try to play innocent, but his hands were already on your hips, thumbs dragging over the curve of your ass with slow appreciation.

Omni Mark didn’t spank. He didn’t grope in public. But in private—when you were alone—he had a habit of palming your backside like he was grounding himself. A quiet indulgence only you got to see. You were softness in a world where everything else demanded steel.

And when you caught him staring? He’d just raise an eyebrow and say coolly:

“Don’t start something unless you plan to finish it.”

[vunblr]

Tangled (#11)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 8.8k

Note: And we have reached the end. A big thank you to the readers who accompanied me on this journey. As I always say, this may be the story with fewer 'notes' on my masterlist, but the quality of the interaction has been overwhelming -in the best way- asking, drawing, commenting, reblogging, I am so grateful I got to experience that, truly, thank you❤️

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Making the alcove habitable wasn’t so bad.

Bucky had shifted to his human form to help her carry the essentials: an air mattress, blankets, a few rechargeable lights for the pitch-black space, snacks, and water. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it would do.

Shifting during mating season, however, had taken a toll. His body, busy channeling energy toward more primal needs, had little left to spare. By the end of the day, he was sluggish, aching, and quietly grumpy, made worse, she suspected, because she’d witnessed a side of him he didn’t particularly like showing.

“You okay?” she asked, stepping close with a gentle smile. “You seem a little… indisposed.”

He didn’t respond right away, just blinked slowly, then reached out with his limbs to draw her in until her body was pressed against his chest.

“Changing forms during mating season is not... wise,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Because the body craves only one thing, and its energy is focused on that. We don’t do other things. We barely eat. We just-”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

“Oh,” she murmured, brushing a hand along his cheek. “You shouldn’t have shifted, then. I could’ve brought everything down myself, and you could’ve just set it all up.”

That struck a nerve. He stiffened, frowning. “I won’t let my mate exert herself physically when I am perfectly capable-”

She cut him off with a quick kiss. “I know you’re capable, but I could’ve made three trips. You wouldn’t be feeling like this now.”

After a while, she asked softly, “You said your kind don’t do other things during mating season. Just mating.”

He made a small, tired noise in response.

“Do you feel frustrated because we- I mean, it’s just once or twice a day, but then I…” she trailed off, cheeks warm, voice muffled as she buried her face into the curve of his neck. She didn’t need to end the sentence. Usually, she ended up sore, and he refused to take her again, even if it killed him.

“No.”

The answer came quickly, firmly, but she didn’t miss the way his arms clenched around her.

“But it’s not the same,” she mumbled. “And clearly, you want more.”

He stared up at the rocky ceiling, ticking his jaw as he searched for the right words. “I spent decades doing this alone. So you… being here with me is enough.”

“Better than nothing, huh?” she teased, nudging him gently.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice came out stiff, almost panicked, words tumbling over each other. Damn his poor way with human expressions. He could hunt, fight, track movement through currents, but explaining feelings without tangling them up? Nearly impossible.

She smiled against his skin. “I know what you meant.”

“Besides,” he added after a pause, “even if your body can’t have me inside all the time, you still…” He trailed off, clearly wrestling with the wording. His cheeks tinted pink. “Service me.”

She snorted softly, biting her bottom lip to hide her grin. “That sounds so old-fashioned, and kind of dirty.”

He looked genuinely confused. “What would you call it then? You do things with your hands, your mouth… only for my pleasure.”

She reached up to brush a damp lock of hair from his brow. “I don’t know,” she murmured, still smiling. “Let’s just say I take care of you.”

He hummed at that. Maybe he didn’t fully grasp the nuance of the phrasing, but he understood her tone, her softness. She was choosing to stay. Choosing him, even when he couldn’t give her the most comfortable version of himself.

After a silent moment, she stopped brushing her fingers through the damp ends of his hair.

“Do you want some fruit?” she asked softly, reaching toward the bag by the mattress.

Didn’t get an answer.

When she leaned back to look at him, she found his eyes closed, lips parted slightly, with the kind of peace he rarely allowed himself. He’d fallen asleep mid-conversation, curled around her, completely spent.

Smiling to herself, she shifted back down into the cradle of his limbs, letting the slow pulse of the tide outside lull her into sleep. Wrapped in his embrace, she closed her eyes too, deciding that maybe a nap wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

----

Days came and went, and the pull of mating season finally began to loosen its hold on him. The fevered need that once gripped his body -the aching hunger to touch, to scent, to stay wound around her- eased gradually, like the tide drawing back from the shore. He still wanted her, always would, but the urgency had dulled into something manageable.

With that came a mutual decision: she would return to her home to sleep, to the comfort of her proper bed and familiar things. He didn’t argue, not much anyway, especially after she reminded him he was always welcome there.

She started spending her mornings in town again. A conversation with the old woman who ran the craft shop turned out to be a surprising opportunity, the chance to give beginner crochet lessons twice a week. Just a couple of hours, enough to earn a little extra and maybe help the shop sell more materials.

She hadn’t been sure at first. Teaching felt… official. But she liked the idea of sharing something useful, something she loved. And really, she had nothing to lose.

She printed a few modest posters and pinned them around town, at the bakery, the library, and the community board near the ferry docks. Just a soft-colored flyer with her name, the schedule, and the promise of beginner-friendly crochet. She didn’t expect much.

But the very next day, three people signed up.

Emma, the elderly owner of the bookshop, had always meant to learn. When she found out her granddaughter Harriet wanted to attend, motivated by a deep desire to make amigurumis, she decided it was finally time. And then there was Chris, one of the clerks at the general store, who admitted in a shy, mumbled tone that he was hoping crocheting might help with his nerves. Dealing with people every day, even in a small town, was wearing on him. He needed something quiet to focus on.

It was an odd little trio, but a good one.

----

She dipped her toes into the foamy edge of the tide, wrapped her arms loosely around her knees. Bucky stayed just within reach, half-submerged in the water, with his elbows propped on a rock as he watched her.

“I got three students already,” she said, smiling. “Isn’t that wild? I just put up the flyers yesterday.”

His ears perked faintly. “Three?”

“Mhm. Emma from the bookstore, her granddaughter Harriet, and Chris. You know, from the general store.”

His expression didn’t shift much, except for the slight furrow between his brows and the narrowing in his eyes. “Chris… isn’t it a male name?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning. “Yes.”

He pushed up a little straighter. “But… that’s a secret craft.”

“A secret craft?”

“Only females do it. It’s private.”

She chuckled, moving beside him and reaching over to tuck a stray lock of damp hair behind his ear. “Maybe in the past it was a woman's thing. But not anymore. Plenty of men crochet now.”

His frown deepened. “Why is he doing it?”

“Anxiety,” she said, smiling. “He says it helps with that. I think it’s great.”

The point of his limbs curled and swayed, a sign she was beginning to recognize as disapproval. “He must want something else.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, brushing sand off her calves. “Like what?”

“You.”

She turned toward him, surprised at his bluntness, but the stern, almost sulky set of his mouth made it hard not to laugh. “You think he signed up just to get close to me?”

Bucky didn’t answer, but the look he gave her said exactly that.

She laughed then, swatting gently at his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He didn’t laugh. He just blinked at her, completely serious. “Males don’t do manual, trifling things like that without purpose.”

That was not the best choice of words, as he’ll discover.

“Well, that trifling thing had put a roof over my head and fed me for years, and luckily for me, there are those who find it valuable.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The water stirred faintly around him.

She straightened her back, brushing the last of the sand from her skirt, not looking at him this time. “You might not get it, but that doesn’t make it worthless.”

He watched her walk a few paces down the shore. “I didn’t mean-” he tried.

“Maybe next time, think a little before calling my work trifling.” And with that, she turned and started toward the path.

In a flash of black and blue, two of his tendrils snapped forward, one curling gently around her wrist, the other at her waist. Not harshly. Just holding. Just asking her to stay.

“Wait,” he said.

She didn’t fight him, but didn’t speak either. Her gaze stayed ahead.

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” he stated in a low voice. His eyes flicked to the side, like the words were hiding somewhere in the tide. “What I meant was… it’s work for women-”

She turned back sharply, narrowing her gaze. “Oh, so it’s trifling because only women do it?”

“No!” he sighed, frustrated but not at her. “I meant… it’s not a physical trait. Not something a provider would normally do.”

He looked genuinely troubled, his brows drawn and lips parted like he was still sorting through the right phrasing.

She softened slightly, folding her arms. “Bucky… we’re not in the stone age anymore. There aren’t roles like that- not here. Maybe in some outdated societies, sure, but that’s not how things work.”

He opened his mouth again, as his stubborn instinct was brewing, but she held up a hand.

“I’ll give you this: yes, crocheting and knitting are still mostly seen as women’s hobbies. But there are men doing it. And good ones, too.”

“You’re proving me right, then,” he said.

She blinked. “How so?”

“That few males perform such activities. So it’s likely that this Chris wants to be close to you. Some kind of subterfuge-”

“Bucky,” she cut in, already exasperated. “I promise you, not every man who talks to me wants to get into my panties. I’m not exactly Sabrina Carpenter.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” he muttered. “But I know you’re not this... whoever.”

“That’s not the point,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “The point is, we’ve talked about this before. You know how things work here, men and women can be friends. They can work together, share hobbies, without any ulterior motives. And that is what happens most of the time.”

She took a step closer, calmer. “I’m going to teach this guy. If you’re that insecure, you’re welcome to come sit in on the classes.”

That seemed to give him pause. The thought of keeping an eye on things clearly appeased something territorial in him.

She lifted a finger before he could get too pleased. “Which is not a free ticket to intimidate him. Or harass him. Or loom in a corner like a judgmental gargoyle.”

“What is a gargoyle?”

----

None of the students had any experience with crochet, so they were starting from square one: how to hold the hook, how to tension the yarn, how to make a slip knot that didn’t unravel immediately.

Emma and Harriet picked things up quickly. The older woman had a natural talent, it seemed, and picked up the instructions quickly, and Harriet seemed determined to master the basic chain stitch with youthful stubbornness. Chris, on the other hand, struggled a little more. His yarn slipped too often, his fingers cramped, and he held the hook like a screwdriver. He needed extra attention, which she was happy to give, crouching beside his chair now and then to guide his hands.

They were about half an hour in when the front door creaked open.

Bucky stepped inside. Tall and broad-shouldered, wearing black jeans and a blue shirt that stretched a little over his chest. His hair was still wet, combed back pretty neatly, for being styled using his hands.

He stood silently for a moment, sweeping his blue eyes over the scene at the dining table.

She caught his gaze and gave a small nod, subtly signaling him to say something.

“Hello,” he said flatly.

Then, without another word, he made his way to the couch and sat down, resting his hands on his knees like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he’d declared his presence.

Three pairs of curious eyes followed his movements. Harriet leaned toward Emma and whispered something behind her hand. The older woman gave her a gentle nudge and a sharp look. Chris squinted subtly, then tilted his head.

“Oh,” he said, as if just connecting the dots. “This is your friend from the city. It’s been a while since we saw him around town.”

Bucky scowled without blinking. “I’m her mat-”

“Boyfriend,” she cut in smoothly, not even glancing at Bucky as she reached to correct Chris’s chain tension again.

The three reactions came in their own little time: Emma gave a satisfied nod, like she’d seen this coming all along. Harriet made a face of teenage disappointment, barely masking it with a sip of juice. And Chris… well, his was harder to read. For her, anyway.

Bucky, however, watched him closely. The second the word left her mouth, he saw the exact thought crossing the man’s mind, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Nice to meet you,” they all said, nearly in unison.

“Oh,” Chris added, still half-focused on his lopsided chain. “Wouldn’t have guessed. You’re one of those couples with zero PDA, then?”

“What is that?” Bucky asked before she could intervene.

Chris grinned a little, maybe not expecting him to ask. “You know. PDA, public displays of affection. When a couple acts like they’re together. Holding hands, cuddling, kissing in public. That kinda stuff.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “That’s expected?”

“Not expected,” she said quickly, giving Chris a short look. “Just... common.”

He seemed to mull it over, nodding slowly with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for treaties or battle plans.

“I see.”

And then, just to top it all off, he reached over from the couch, hooked a finger in the edge of her shirt, and gave a gentle tug.

When she looked over, he was watching her, not quite sulking, but clearly filing this PDA business into the things to think about later category.

She reached over and grabbed Bucky’s hand, curling her fingers around his reassuringly.

“Well, if you must know,” she said, “we haven’t been a couple until recently. We were just friends during the other times he came into town over the winter. That is why we didn’t erm- seem lovey dovey.”

Bucky didn’t respond, but the tightness in his shoulders eased a little.

“Anyway,” she went on, lifting her voice just slightly to return everyone’s focus, “now that you’ve all met the mysterious newcomer, let’s get back to it, we’ve got twenty minutes left.”

“Oh, Hermann and I started as friends too,” Emma offered, smiling softly. “Been married fifty now.”

“Wow, Emma,” Chris laughed. “Don’t scare the guy. They just started going out.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to him sharply, but he didn’t say a word.

The minutes passed without major disruptions. Harriet caught on quickly, needing only a few corrections. Emma took her time, her hands were slow, but she didn’t need help. Chris… still struggled. He kept missing stitches, his tension was inconsistent, and more than once, he asked her to come over and count with him, tilting his head and giving a sheepish little smile.

Bucky didn’t miss it. He didn’t miss anything.

From his place on the couch, he might as well have been carved from stone, silent, unmoving, sharp-eyed.

And when Chris caught him watching, he had the gall to smile. A little smug thing. Not overt, not enough to make a scene, but Bucky saw it. Knew exactly what it was.

She didn’t seem to notice.

But he did.

And the only thing that kept him from dragging him out of the house, and made sure he never breathed near her again, was the promise he’d made: to behave. To prove he could live in her world without wrecking it.

Still, she could feel his stare, like storm clouds building behind her.

So when Chris finally seemed to grasp the rhythm of the stitch and stopped calling her over every few minutes, she took the chance to wander slowly toward the couch, pretending to examine a basket of spare yarn nearby. Her fingers brushed Bucky’s shoulder in passing, just a brief squeeze.

He looked up at her.

There was thunder in his eyes. And something else, something almost young, uncertain, raw. She bent down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a soft embrace.

Bucky exhaled against her neck, hiding his face in its curve. He inhaled slowly and deep, greedily, like he needed her scent to calm himself.

When he opened his eyes again, Chris was watching.

Subtle. Curious.

Until Bucky looked back.

Something in the way he saw him -ancient and cold- made the hairs on Chris’s neck stand up. It didn’t make sense. The guy was sitting politely, with his arms around his girlfriend. But the weight of that look felt like being alone on a dark street and realizing you were being followed.

Hunted.

He blinked and looked away, back to his project. It was probably just his imagination.

Probably.

----

Chris didn’t ask for help again. Not once.

Harriet, on the other hand, lit up near the end, asking if she could try making a little Pokémon. “Something easy,” she said, “like Jigglypuff maybe?” She promised to bring some colorful yarn next time.

When the hour wrapped, everyone gathered their belongings. Emma kissed her cheek goodbye and Harriet gave a little wave. Chris on the other hand didn’t leave right away.

He lingered in the yard, standing awkwardly near the front gate, holding something in his hand.

“Um,” he started, when she stepped out to check. “I actually signed up for this class as sort of a trial.” He extended a folded bill, just the amount for the hour they’d spent. “Uh… I reckon it’s not for me. And when I take over the afternoon shifts at the store, I won’t be able to come anyway. So…”

He trailed off, like he was waiting for her to say something, maybe expecting her to ask him to stay.

She didn’t.

Behind her, the door creaked faintly as Bucky leaned against it, watching without blinking.

Chris noticed.

He hesitated a beat longer, then gave her a faint smile. “Thanks, though. You’re a good teacher.”

Then he nodded once and turned, walking down the path without looking back.

----

The second she clicked the door shut, Bucky's body crowded her against it, suddenly and overwhelmingly. He rested his forearms flat to the wood, bracketing her head and pressing his chest flush to her back.

She barely had time to exhale before he clicked his teeth near her neck, a sharp little sound, half warning, half claim.

“I told you,” he said, low and gravelly.

“Bucky-”

“I told you.” His voice didn’t rise, but she could feel the restraint vibrating against her. “But I behaved.”

“Yeah, you did.” She tilted her head slightly, trying to look at him. “Thank you.”

“You don’t know…” His lips brushed the curve of her neck. Not a kiss, something rougher, hungrier. “…how hard it was not to-”

He bit back the rest with effort. Tear him apart. That’s what he wanted to say. But he didn’t.

“-hurt him. For defying me. For pretending to steal my mate.”

Her breath hitched as he dragged his nose on the shape of her throat.

"Well," she managed to breathe, "I'm not a thing to steal. I have a mind of my own. And I wouldn't-"

He growled, low and rough, deep in his chest. “Don’t twist my words, mate,” he murmured. “I’m talking about his intentions. There’s a reason he fled, and you know it. He came with a purpose and was informed you were taken.”

She shifted slowly until she could turn around and face him. His arms still caged her, but she maintained his gaze with something firm in hers.

“And do you think I’d just indulge him if he tried anything?”

“No,” he said, voice suddenly lower, darker. “But he wouldn’t even be able to try.”

His expression was lethal with certainty. Not rage, but possession. The kind forged from instinct, not ego. And yet, behind that hard glint, there was a flicker of something else.

“Is that why you came today?” she asked quietly. “To make sure he saw you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “He needed to understand. They needed to understand.”

She studied his face for a long, quiet second. There was no bluff in his attitude, just the rigid, primal edge of someone who’d grown up in a world where claiming something meant defending it with tooth and claws. Where lines were drawn in sand and blood, not conversation.

Her hand lifted slowly to his chest, resting just over his heart. “I know,” she said gently. “I know you come from something… older than all this. Something wilder. I don’t expect you to see the world like I do.”

His eyes searched hers, still stormy but no longer threatening.

“I know what it means to you. To protect. To claim. I’m not mocking that.” Her thumb brushed his shirt soothingly. “But in my world, it’s enough that I choose you. That I stand beside you, not behind.”

His brows twitched faintly. She tiptoed and pressed her forehead to his.

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

He exhaled through his nose, warm and shaky, and nudged his face along hers, nuzzling slowly like a creature trying to soothe himself.

“Still hated how he looked at you,” he mumbled, half-pouting, half-exhausted.

“I know,” she smiled. “But you were good. You kept your promise.”

She reached up and cupped his jaw, brushing the edge of his cheek.

“I understand,” she said softly, “I know your instincts are different. I know this is all... learned behavior for you.”

His eyes flicked over her face, searching, hungry, wild, restrained by the thinnest thread of discipline. His hands pressed at her waist, and for a moment, he didn’t speak, just breathed against her cheek.

“I hate not feeling you,” he muttered. “Not the way I should.”

“You’re here,” she murmured, dragging her fingers down the front of his shirt, feeling the heat of his body beneath it. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” he snapped, not cruel but desperate. “I need more of you.”

And before she could answer, he pressed her back harder against the door, finding the line of her throat with his mouth, trailing it with sharp kisses that teetered too close to biting. His hips pinned her in place, and his breath came fast, as his hands slid up to fist her hair.

“I don’t want to pretend I’m like them,” he growled into her skin. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”

“I don’t want you to pretend,” she stated. “I want you. However you come.”

His grip became tighter, and he kissed her like it hurt, like the human shape could barely contain the hunger that lived beneath it. But as her hands slid under his shirt, as her body arched into him, as she pulled him into her bedroom for the first time -not as a creature of sea and storm, but as a man- he began to discover something else:

She didn’t just feel different under human hands. She felt new.

And new could be dangerously good.

He didn’t wait for the bed.

His hands were already under her thighs, lifting her like she weighed nothing, softly tugging her back against the hallway wall. She gasped, gripping his shoulders, locking her legs around his waist without a second thought.

“Still strong,” she whispered, awed.

“Not even close to how strong,” he growled, mouthing at her collarbone, dragging his lips over the line of her neck, then lower. “But here, I don’t have to hold back the same way. I don’t have to think every time I touch you.”

His palms gripped her hips, tightly, almost bruising, like he was testing what he could take. What she could take. She moaned, shifting in his hold, and he felt it in his bones. Her need, her surrender.

“I could throw you over my shoulder,” he muttered against her chest, his breath hot through the fabric, “spread you open on that bed and not worry about your ribs snapping, or your hips dislocating.”

His words made her ache. She arched into him, dragging her hands through the messy ends of his hair.

“So do it.”

That earned her a sharp sound, deep in his throat. His fingers fumbled at her clothes, impatiently, not bothering with finesse. He wanted skin. Now.

She barely registered crossing the threshold of the bedroom before her back hit the mattress, and his weight followed, pressing her into the bed. Her clothes were half-off, half-wrung around her limbs, and he didn’t care. He peeled the rest away with single-minded focus.

His hands roamed through her body like he was learning her all over again. He gripped where he wanted, pushed and pulled where he pleased, not restrained like in the cave, no bracing or shifting weight around sensitive places. Just him. Human and hungry.

“I don’t have to measure how deep I go,” he rasped, nosing the edge of her shirt as his fingers tugged it up and over her chest. “Don’t have to think about your skin splitting when I grip you. Can go as far as I need to.”

“You’re still holding back,” she said, as his mouth trailed lower.

His gaze shot up to meet hers, with something feral simmering behind it.

“Not for long.”

He peeled her shirt the rest of the way off, dragging it over her head in one swift pull, then paused, and just stared.

His eyes dropped to her chest, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

It hit him harder than expected, that swell of hunger in his gut. Maybe it was the way she always kept her breasts covered here, wrapped in soft fabrics and loose sweaters. Maybe it was the contrast, the novelty of unveiling something she guarded in daylight.

His kind didn’t think twice about nudity. Breasts were just another part of the body. But hers…

Hers were warm and heated from his touch, and he couldn’t stop staring at the way they lifted with each breath. Full and soft and real beneath his hands. Something she showed only to him.

He sank lower, bracing one hand on her waist while the other cupped the weight of her breast, slowly dragging the thumb across the peak until it stiffened. He bent then, wrapping his hot mouth around her nipple, and groaned as she arched beneath him.

His hand slid to her other breast, kneading it gently, grazing it back and forth with his thumb until both were stiff and aching under his attention. He flicked his tongue, slow and deliberate, drawing another one of those sounds from her, breathy and sweet and just for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gently grazing his teeth before soothing the spot with his tongue.

She shivered when his mouth released her with a soft, wet sound. His breath was hot against her skin, his hands still roaming, still greedy. But she pressed her palm to his chest and pushed just slightly, enough to make him pause, confused.

"Take it off," she said, huskily. “Not fair, I’m the only one naked here.”

Bucky blinked, then growled low in his throat. "You want me naked, mate?" His smirk was all teeth.

She raised an eyebrow and started tugging at the hem of his shirt. “You’re in my house. Strip.”

He let her pull it over his head, lifting his arms to help as the soft cotton slid up his torso and his muscles flexed under her touch. She brushed her hands down his stomach and watched the way his breath caught when her fingertips ghosted past his waistband.

He worked on the button of his jeans, growling when her hand slipped inside before he could push them down. Her palm found him, hot and straining, and she cupped him fully, feeling him twitch against her skin.

Her eyes flicked up to his, and in that moment, he felt it. The flicker of surprise. The subtle widening of her gaze, like she’d just realized this part of him was still big.

His chest puffed just slightly, and pride flickered behind the hunger in his eyes.

“Surprised, little mate?” he rasped, and his voice tightened as she gave a slow stroke. “Even like this, I can still ruin you.”

And God, he wanted to.

“Lie down,” he muttered with intent. She obeyed, trailing her eyes over his body as he shoved the jeans down, revealing himself, broad, thick, and every inch of him tensed and aching.

He crawled between her legs, pushing her thighs open with a hungry sound in the back of his throat. No teasing smile, no patience in his gaze.

“I want to know what it feels like… like this,” he murmured, ghosting his fingers up her inner thighs. “Want to taste you without the sea on my tongue, without other senses.”

She shifted, but he pressed one large hand to her lower belly, firmly but not harshly. “Be still,” he said, voice low and trembling with control. “Let me learn you this way.”

Then he dipped his head and parted her with his tongue.

His mouth was greedy from the first stroke, his wide tongue dragged through her folds with a growl that vibrated deep into her pussy. He gripped her thighs tightly, pulling her closer, still pressing her belly down with his hand when she tried to arch. “Still,” he reminded, voice half-lost against her skin.

He licked slowly at first, savoring the difference, then faster, sloppier. The flat of his tongue worked her clit, again and again, and when he felt her twitch, he groaned and pushed two fingers inside her, slow but firm.

She gasped, and he felt that. No claws, no careful restraint this time. He could curl and stretch and press into her as deep as he wanted.

His jaw flexed as he fucked her with his fingers, tongue never leaving her. Every moan escaping her lips made his own hips buck down into the mattress, chasing friction like he couldn’t help himself. The rough fabric of the afghan grew damp beneath him, smeared with the thick mess he kept leaking, desperate.

When her thighs trembled and she sobbed his name, he pushed his fingers deeper, held her down firmer, and sucked harder around her clit. She came with a cry, clenching tight, and he groaned against her like it hurt him to feel it: his mouth, his fingers, his cock all aching for her.

But he didn’t move.

He stayed there between her legs, licking up every drop, dazed and possessive in the aftermath. He then rose onto his knees, chest heaving, his face still wet with her pleasure. His eyes -dark, glassy, starving- fixed on her like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Mine,” he rasped.

She barely caught her breath before he pushed her thighs open again and reached for his jeans, shoving them down the rest of the way. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed, slick already from how he’d rutted into the afghan. He grunted as he gripped the base, angling it toward her, dragging the head through her folds with a deep, shaking breath.

“You know I understand,” he said low, almost a growl. “I do. I try. But he came here to have you, and you welcomed him in.”

Her hands cupped his face, soft but firmly. “I welcomed him to learn, but I yielded to you.”

That was all it took.

He moved forward, driving into her in one thick, claiming push. She gasped as her body stretched around him, and he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing her in.

“So tight,” he gritted. “So wet for me.”

He started to move with deep thrusts that rocked her under him, gripping her hips with his strong hands, pulling her onto him as much as he pushed forward. His restraint frayed with every sound she made, every flutter of her walls around him. He wasn’t rough yet, but the need gauged at his body with every thrust.

“You were made for me,” he whispered. “Me. No one else. Say it.”

Her palm slid up to his cheek, brushing her thumb just under his eye. “No one else’s,” she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. “Yours.”

A snarl tore from his throat as he pushed forward, wrapping his arms beneath her knees and pressing her thighs up toward her chest. She gasped, but didn’t pull back, and he felt it, that yielding in her body, that aching stretch as he pushed in again.

Deeper now. She was hot and tight and utterly his.

He folded her beneath him, slamming his hips into the cradle of her body, sheating his cock again and again with a ferocity he’d never dared to unleash in his true form. But now, this body could take her without holding back, could give without fear. The wet slap of skin filled the room, raw and primal, and her cries were swallowed by his mouth when he dipped down to kiss her, panting into her lips between thrusts.

She moaned against him, and he answered with a low, hoarse growl.

He shifted his angle, grinding deeply, and a sharp cry escaped her lips. That sound spurred him on, and he rammed in again, rougher, harder, relentless. His grip bruised her thighs as he kept them pinned, opening her wide to every inch of his cock.

The wet slide, the stretch, the heat, it all blurred into sensation. His jaw clenched tight, veins standing out on his neck, as his muscles trembled with the force he poured into her body.

“Say it again,” he panted, voice dark, nearly broken. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Bucky,” she breathed again, wrecked and barely coherent.

That was all it took.

He cursed, snapping his hips forward so brutally that it knocked the air from her lungs. Over and over, he thrust into her, shaking the mattress, shaking her, and all she could do was take it, moaning, trembling, completely at his mercy.

Her body welcomed it, wet and swollen, clenching greedily around him like it knew who he was. What he was.

His mate.

“You were made for me,” he snarled into her throat. “No one else -no one- will ever take you like this.”

He pushed her knees higher, angling deeper, folding her tighther beneath him. She sobbed his name, as her legs trembled in his grip, and her hands scrabbled for purchase across his back, his shoulders, anywhere she could hold on while he took her.

Every muscle in his body was straining, and sweat slicked his skin. He was so close. His hips stuttered for a beat, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t. Not with her looking like that, heavy-lidded eyes, mouth open, hair fanned out wild on the sheets.

Her walls fluttered around him again, and he groaned, raw and desperate. “You gonna come again for me, mate? Let me feel it?”

She nodded -whimpered- and that was enough.

He slammed in, rougher and faster, grunting with each punishing thrust, grinding his pelvic bone against her swollen clit until she broke with a cry, digging her nails into his back, spasming around him. That was it. That was it.

He hissed and growled against her neck as he came, hips jerking out of rhythm, buried so deep he swore he could feel her heartbeat around him. Hot pulses of pleasure wracked his body, thick and heavy as he emptied himself inside her, claiming her all over again.

For a moment, all he could do was breathe -harsh, ragged- and hold her close, with their bodies still tangled, slick and messy and utterly spent.

She was his. Marked and filled and ruined for anyone else.

And he’d never let her forget it.

He stayed there, buried to the hilt, with his chest blanketing her folded body, breathing hotly and unevenly against her skin. Her body was still trembling -tight, spent, and slick beneath him- and he liked it. Liked how full she was. Liked the lazy drip of his seed where they were still connected, sliding warm and slow from where he’d emptied himself into her.

It made something primal in him snarl in satisfaction.

He leaned back just slightly, grasping her hips with his hands to keep her in place, and gazed down at the mess he’d made. Her thighs were marked with faint crescent moons where his fingers had gripped too tightly, and he smoothed over them possessively. Her sex glistened with his spent.

His.

Bucky lowered his mouth and gently sank his teeth into her inner thigh's softness. Not to hurt, just to brand. Just to taste. Her muscles jumped, and her hips gave a little involuntary twitch beneath his weight.

When she squirmed again, shifting like she meant to slide down or straighten out, he just pressed his pelvis more firmly against her, groaning softly as the movement coaxed a lazy twitch from his spent cock still nestled inside her.

No. Not yet. He liked this.

Liked her folded beneath him, open, yielding. Her skin heated and damp, her scent thick in the air, her breathing shallow. She felt so his like this. So utterly owned. He could do it again. Could flip her, press her into the mattress from behind, and take her like he’d seen some of the inland animals rut, gripping her hips and-

“I’m starting to not feel my legs, darling,” she murmured, hoarsely but teasing, her chuckle was a warm flutter against his throat.

It broke the trance.

He let out a huff of laughter, gruff and sheepish, then kissed the bite mark he’d left on her thigh. One last gentle nip for good measure before he finally -finally-eased out of her, careful even if he didn’t want to be. Not really.

He didn’t go far. Just enough to let her stretch out again, to rub the feeling back into her calves with his big hands while murmuring something low, half-feral, half-affectionate, against her skin.

But even then, his body was ready again.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

He should’ve been sated. By all logic -by how hard he came, how thoroughly he took her- his body should’ve been spent.

But it wasn’t.

He looked at her, splayed and soft, dreamy with satisfaction and leaking his seed down the swell of her thighs… and he throbbed with need all over again.

In his true form, it would take time. Her body would be too sore, too stretched. He’d need to soothe her, let her rest, cool the fever in his blood with a swim or a hunt beside her ministrations.

But this form… this dull, dry, two-legged skin… it was weak in many ways. Yet here he was, already hardening again, marveling at how her body didn’t seem to resist him.

Didn’t ache. Didn’t tremble too much. Just lay there, warm and willing.

Bucky leaned close, mouthing kisses between her breasts, then coaxed her with large, careful hands. A gentle tap to her hip. A nudge.

“Turn for me,” he murmured.

She gave a lazy, breathless chuckle, not opening her eyes. “What are you doing?”

He clicked his teeth right beside her ear and growled, “What does it seem I’m doing, mate?”

She let him guide her languidly, as he helped her roll onto her belly. He kissed down the curve of her back, dragging her hips up into place, then sat back on his knees to take in the sight.

Gods.

Her rear was high, thighs parted, and his seed a slow, glistening thread on her skin. His jaw flexed, a hunger flaring hot through his core. This view… this view would have killed him in the sea.

He shifted closer, guiding the head of his cock against her entrance, notching himself into place. The angle was different. New. Promising. He gripped her hips tighter.

And pushed in. Slow, savoring the slick resistance, the tight draw of her walls as she gasped and braced her hands against the mattress. The angle let him sink deeper -fuller- and he growled at the sensation, at how perfectly her body received him again.

Her thighs quivered. Her back arched.

“Fuck, Bucky-”

He didn’t answer. Just pulled out partway and slammed back in, snapping his hips forward with a wet slap. Her cry turned into a moan, as she clawed at the covers with her hands.

“This-” she gasped, barely able to get her breath between the hard rhythm he set. “Ah- where did you learn-”

“Dogs,” he grunted, leaning over her back, biting lightly at her shoulder. “In the summer.”

She let out something between a laugh and a whimper, as her body jolted forward when he thrusted particularly hard.

“This is -oh my god- mortifying.”

“You don’t seem mortified,” he growled, slapping into her again, making the mattress groan beneath them.

He was relentless now, driving into her, dragging her back with his hands into every thrust, mouth open against her spine, her nape, the curve of her shoulder. The scent of her arousal, his seed, her sweat, clung to their skin and flooded his senses. And she was dripping for him, making a mess of her thighs, the bedding, his cock.

“Mine,” he snarled into her skin, losing himself all over again in her warmth, her submission, the fact that she let him have her like this. “Say it again.”

“Yours,” she choked out, her breath catching as he rutted into her harder, rougher, almost punishing. “No one else’s. Yours.”

He buried himself to the hilt, growling loud enough that it vibrated against her back. “That’s right. Mine. My mate.”

He bent over her, flattening her to the mattress, heaving his chest against her back as he rolled his hips in tight, relentless thrusts, grinding his pelvis into her ass at the end of every push. Her thighs trembled. Her hands fisted the sheets.

The slick slap of skin against skin echoed between them, his heavy balls smacking against her clit with every drag and surge of his cock. She was soaked, dripping down her thighs, down his length, and every time he bottomed out, his seed leaked around the base of his cock and made a filthy, wet mess of them both.

She whimpered something that might’ve been his name. Or maybe just a sound, raw and mindless.

He bit her shoulder again. Not hard, not breaking skin. Just enough to state a claim.

“You feel this?” he snarled into her ear, rutting deeper, as if he could crawl into her body and stay inside her. “You feel how full you are with me, mate? This is what happens when another man thinks he can come near you. You get bred.”

She sobbed out a noise, clenching around him like her body couldn’t help it, and he lost it again.

His rhythm faltered, thrusts turning erratic. Her body milked him, needy and greedy, and he pushed in one last time with a guttural moan as he came in hot pulses, pressing his forehead between her shoulder blades, and his knuckles turning white while he gripped her hips.

He stayed there, panting hard against her sweat-damp skin, unmoving. Then, slowly, he let out a small groan and nuzzled her back, still buried to the root. Still thick and throbbing inside her.

She gave a tiny, dazed laugh. “Starting to not feel my legs again.”

He grunted. Didn’t move.

His hips gave the smallest twitch, already tempted again.

----

She lay sprawled over his chest, with her limbs draped boneless across his body like she’d melted there. Bucky was flat on his back, looking at the ceiling, as the rise and fall of his chest finally slowed.

"So- um," she began, her voice a little raspy from all the moaning and whining. "I take it you enjoyed doing it as a human?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her even closer, as if he still didn’t want to let her go. Then he let out a long, slow breath and closed his eyes.

“It’s different,” he admitted. “It’s not- I can’t feel the same. Not like when I can taste you with my limbs. And the movements are limited.”

She tipped her head to look up at him, already smiling when he cracked one eye open to meet her gaze.

“But,” he went on, voice rough and low, “I don’t have to restrain myself like this. I don’t have to worry if I’ll break you. Or hurt you. I can be freer with what I want to do.”

“Well, look at that,” she murmured, with a teasing grin. “A positive thing you found for this form.”

“Also,” he added, giving her ass a firm squeeze, “I can finally do it all the times I want.”

She laughed against his chest, drawing idle patterns along the ridged scars scattered on his skin. “Speaking of that…”

Her finger stilled.

“You, um- don’t have a refractory period as a human?”

He frowned instantly, wrinkling his nose, clearly not liking the lack of something in the sexual department. “What is that?”

“Usually once you, erm, come… generally men have a period when they can’t get hard again. Could be minutes, could be hours.”

He made a thoughtful little grunt and turned his eyes back to the ceiling. “Don’t know. Never done this in this form before.”

But the smile that pulled at his mouth was anything but uncertain. It was smug. Lazy. Entirely satisfied. “Doesn’t seem like I need to worry about my aptitude, though.”

She groaned and hid her face in his chest.

He chuckled low and rough, clearly far too pleased with himself.

“It's not that bad,” he muttered, waving one hand in the air to gesture at the room. “This.”

She lifted her head just enough to watch his face.

“Still feels… weird. Incomplete.” His voice dropped as he exhaled. “But not like it did before.”

Her smile was soft, a little crooked. “You’re saying that because you got to have a lot of sex.”

He scowled. “I’m a healthy male with a mate. Of course I’ll have urges.”

“Hey,” she chuckled, “don’t pout. I was messing with you. I wasn’t criticizing.”

She brought her hand to his cheek, trailing the scruff along his jaw. “I’m glad you told me that. Makes me happy… that you don’t hate my world. That you’re more comfortable in it now.”

His expression softened slowly under her touch. His brow unfurrowed, though his mouth still held the hint of a sulk.

“I don’t hate it,” he said. “Did. For a long time.”

He looked around her room again. The pale morning was creeping in under the curtains. Her yarn stash, the quiet tick of the old wall clock in the living room. The calm.

“But not anymore,” he finished, his voice quieter now. “It’s still strange. But it’s where you are. That makes it… tolerable.”

She gave a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “High praise.”

“It is,” he insisted, though his tone was gentler now.

Then, after a beat, he added: “And the sex helps.”

That earned him a smack on the chest, and her laughter muffled against his skin.

She shifted a little, still tracing lazy circles near one of the older scars. The silence had turned warm and sleepy, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the old house.

“So, now that Chris won’t be coming to class anymore, I assume you lost the reason to check in or see how things are going.” She didn’t expect him to answer, not right away.

“What if I wanted to learn?”

That made her lift her head, arching her brows. “Wait. You? Crochet?”

He avoided her gaze, fixing his eyes on the ceiling with seriousness. “Seems interesting,” he muttered. “To create instead of destroying.”

That sobered her smile just a little.

“So it’s not so trifling, then?”

He turned his head to squint at her. “I already apologized about that.”

“I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up again,” she said gently, brushing her fingers through his hair at the temple. “Old habit. I’ll stop poking at you.”

He gave a grunt that meant he’d let it slide.

Then she added, softer, “I can teach you, if you want.”

He didn’t answer with words, just let his hand drift across her back in silent agreement. When he finally spoke, it was almost shy, which startled her more than any growl or sharp retort.

“Wouldn’t mind making something that’s only mine. That stays mine.”

“Right,” she murmured, her cheek still resting against his chest. “You told me your kind doesn’t really do possessions.”

He shifted a little under her, like he was debating whether to speak. Finally, he murmured, “I... I have some.”

That made her lift her head again with curiosity. “Really? What is it?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, slipping his gaze sideways toward the wall. “The… things you crafted me.”

Her heart nearly flipped in her chest. “Oh, Bucky. I thought you’d thrown them away,” she said softly. “Or that maybe they were ruined by the salt water.”

He shook his head once, firmly. “Hung them. In one of the cave’s alcoves. High up where they won’t get wet.”

A beat passed, and her smile widened. “That’s so romantic.”

He grunted. “Didn’t do it to be romantic.”

“I know,” she teased, leaning to kiss his cheek. “That’s what makes it romantic.”

He grumbled under his breath, but his arm curled tighter around her.

She brushed her fingers through his hair, absentmindedly. “I have to do some errands before the stores close,” she said. “Do you wanna come, or are you returning to the shore?”

That soured his expression immediately. His gaze narrowed slightly, and his mouth twisted as he pulled back just enough to look at her properly. Before he could speak, she added quickly, “Or you can wait here while I do them.”

“There is another option,” he muttered.

She arched a brow. “The things I need don’t do delivery,” she said, cutting him off before he could scheme.

“Don’t know what that is, and don’t care,” he grumbled.

His hand was already cupping her breast, circling her nipple with a slow, deliberate pressure of his thumb. “What if I make sure you’re so tired you can’t even walk out the door? Then you’ll stay here. With me. In your nest.”

“Bucky!” she laughed, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“Are those errands essential?” he asked, voice low near her ear. “Is it food you lack? Medicine?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then they can wait,” he said, far too pleased with himself.

She gave him a look. One that was supposed to be firm, unamused. But her breath caught when his mouth brushed softly down her neck, and his thumb flicked over her nipple just a little harder this time.

“Bucky,” she tried again, more of a sigh now than a protest. “I have things to do…”

“Mhm.” His lips trailed lower, leaving a wet, warm path across her chest. “Like staying in bed. Resting. Letting me take care of you.” His tongue circled her nipple now, slowly and reverent, then sucked it gently into his mouth.

She gasped, “I mean it.”

“You say that,” he murmured against her skin, “but you’re not stopping me.”

She huffed a soft laugh, arching into his mouth. “I was trying to.”

“Try harder, mate,” he challenged, grinning against her breast. Then he switched sides, giving the other the same attention, greedy, focused, as though he’d missed them terribly in the short span since he last worshipped her.

She could feel him hard again, pressing against her thigh. Her legs shifted slightly, just enough to part for him, to welcome him without a single word.

He caught the motion, and his eyes darkened as a crooked smirk tugged at his lips.

“Thought so,” he murmured.

And as his mouth found hers again, slow and claiming, the rest of the world -the errands, the daylight, the clock ticking somewhere in the distance- ceased to matter. Nothing mattered but the warmth of the sheets tangled around their legs and the thrum of her heart syncing to the rhythm he wove between their bodies.

FIN

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira @lazyneonrabbitt @vxllys @namjoohnie @sebastians-love @misspendragonsworld @thewriters64 @escapefromrealitylol @hi172826 @wintrsoldrluvr @reddesires @ruexj283 @buckvoidsyy @littlesuniee @kimberly-stocks @pandaxnienke @ladypncl @homiesexuallaj @kulteule @awesompawsum @killerwendigo @princessgriffin1998 @helen-2003 @nynxtea @alagalaska @maryevm @kittieboo @otterlycanadian @queergalpal97 @gentlelimerence @moogles93 @tentacle-priestess @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @lemonylover

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[bxllydxnnabxtch]

A Little While

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: After a mission gone terribly wrong, internalizing your mistakes is the only way you seem to cope. Ghost finally decides to intervene when it becomes too serious to ignore.

Read pt. 2 - HERE

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, crying, yelling, mentions of blood, traumatic situations, PTSD.

Ghost stared at you from across the table, watching you push the food around your plate like you’d rather throw yourself out of a Helo than actually put any of it in your mouth. You didn’t look up at him, knowing that the only thing you’d be met with was a disappointed stare and you didn’t think you could take any more guilt than you already had. You could hardly sleep, every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that terrifying moment, visions of your teammates blood splattered across the ground and the never-ending reminder that you failed.

You were almost certain you were going to lose your job because of it, honorably discharged, sent back home to live out the rest of your days as another trauma-riddled veteran. But none of that ever happened, and you couldn’t tell if it was worse that it didn’t.

“It wasn-“ Ghost began.

“Simon- just don’t” The words came out in a sigh that was so exhaustion riddled that Simon didn’t know how to react, silently observing how your hand came up to hold your head, eyes slipping closed. A rage began to burn inside of him at how much you blamed yourself for the incident, eyes narrowing as you blew out another puff of air.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You lifted your head from your hand, burning daggers into him. Your jaw clenched; hands balled up by your sides. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You said, frustration straining your voice as you swallowed thickly.

Ghost tilted his head at your attitude, an eerily calm tone making its way into his gruff voice. “The longer you keep beating yourself up about it the more we’re going to talk about it. Soap doesn’t blame you, and neither do I.”

Simon would be lying if he said this conversation didn’t hurt him too. The first thing he saw when he walked in was blood and his heart stopped thinking it was yours. It soon shattered when he saw you leaning over Soap’s barely conscious and badly beaten body, desperately screaming at him to stay awake as you called for an evac in a frenzy. Seeing you deteriorate day after day due to the incident practically broke him, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that you could forgive yourself.

But yet you haven’t, and you were only getting worse.

You stood up abruptly, leaving your plate as you began walking away, but a grip on your shoulder stopped you.

“Don’t fucking touch me Simon.” You yelled, stumbling back as you shoved his hand off of you. He froze when your voice raised, you never yelled at him, and it shattered his soul that this stupid fucking thing you blamed yourself for was the thing to make you break.

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for this.” He said, his voice raising the slightest bit. You scoffed, pushing the hair out of your face. “But I am the one to blame. He should’ve never gotten hurt. I should have been at my stupid fucking post.” You screamed, spiraling, breathing becoming uneven as you felt your face heat up. Fuck don’t cry.

“You were fighting for your life!” He boomed, the empty mess hall going eerily quiet as you stood stunned at his outburst. He didn’t intend to yell at you, but the desire to get through to you, to get you to sleep, eat, fucking live burned more than his concern about you being startled. The tears finally slipped down your cheeks, but you furiously pawed at your face, wiping them away in a panic.

“It was MacTavish that chose to go into that bloody room without any backup. He knew the risks, and he went.” Ghost spoke, his heart shattering all over again at the sight of you crying. He walked up to you, gently pulling your hands away from your face as you stared at him with glassy, tear bordered eyes. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, holding your face with such adoration and care that you could’ve cried harder. He swiped his thumbs across your cheeks gently wiping away the tears that were cascading down your face as he let out a sigh of concern.

“He’s going to be okay.” He said, his tone soft and soothing. “I need you to be too.”

More tears ran down your cheeks at his words, but all he did was wipe them away, shushing you gently.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” You nodded up at him, grabbing onto his hand as he pulled them away, taking it into yours.

With him, maybe you would be okay. At least for a little while.

[elodieunderglass]

Eggs for Killie is over!

I award myself the 150th egg for all of the little bits of art. Thank you so much for inspiring me to make them! It’s been really amazing to see all the hard work and to truly appreciate the wide range of crafts and activities everyone can do. Bobbin lace? Shoemaking? Knife forging? Translating Irish? It’s genuinely incredible.

I also really appreciated the people who were taking a rest, too. Thank you for that as well.

And I SUPER, SUPER appreciate everyone who was going through saying encouraging words, leaving replies/reblogging with comments, or liking all these posts. That was also a huge outpouring of kindness and time. I saw you doing it (and tried to make sure OPs did too) and any credit for people feeling empowered? That’s for YOU.

I know for a fact that people were following each other simply because they spotted one of their people through doing this. Thank you for being here - and being brave enough to find each other! 

If you have a project you were working on specifically for this, and missed the inbox, drop me a message - I don’t want to miss you.

150 eggs x 60g (weight of medium-large chicken egg) is 9000g of eggs.

That’s 16.8% of Killie’s body weight in eggs.

I am planning to write a book about Killie and I think it will be very VERY funny to acknowledge every single username who contributed in the acknowledgements…

…. Because I am planning to throw them back at you.

Now rest up, everyone. April Fools tomorrow, we gotta make the REST of the website unusable.

[scribz-ag24]

one of these villains is not like the others

also one last gengar being a bastard

[im-human-i-matter-i-exist]

@oripoke @delirious-dove @deludeddragon @rinbedo *IM* THE ONE YOU OWE AN APOLOGY TO?!? YOU DEFEND THE HATE ATTACKS "not hate" WHEN IT WAS PAGES OF VILE CRUELTY TO SOMEONE ALREADY SUFFERING SO MUCH. IF SOMEONE WAS RAPED YOUR GROUP WOULD SAY SHE DESERVED IT "because she was being unhinged about it" YOU LITERALLY TORTURED ME YOU RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE YOURE MONSTERS YOURE EVIL MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP PAIN PAIN 11 MONTHS NONSTOP TORTURE I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME MY HOME MY SAVINGS MY FRIENDS MY TRANS HEALTHCARE MY ARM MY DIGNITY MY BOYDRIEND HOPE MY CAT ESPECIALLY NY FUCKING CAT YOU MONSTERS?!?! MY FUTURE MY CRAFT YOU RUINED MY LIFE YOU RUINED MY LIFE KILL ME FUCKING KILL ME MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!?!?!?! GHOSTED AND DIDNT EVEN TELL ME WHY IM FUCKING AUTISTIC NOBODY SAID A THING HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT I DID WRONG??? I DIDNT DO ANYTHING BUT LOVE YOU AND LISTEN TO YOU UNTIL I COULDNT TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE AND NOW THE ONLY THING YOU PEOPLE CAN DO IS GO "Hmm yes what unhinged behavior" AS IF YOU DIDNT STRAND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH NO FOOD NO FRIENDS NO FAMILY AND NO MONEY WITHOUT A WORD, WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL DYING THRICE OVER AND GETTINF ASSAULTED AND INFECTIONS ON THE ROAD YOU WERE PARTYING AND SHAKING YOUR HEADS LIKE "Hmm such a tragedy" YOU. CAUSED. IT!!!! YOU KNEW MY SITUATUON AND ENCOURAGED YOUR CULT TO MAKE IT WORSE!! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP I JUST WANTED TO TALK TO MY FRIENDS I APOLOGIZED 1,000 TIMES AND IT MEANT NOTHING, I TRIED TO TALK AND IT MEANT. NOTHING I JUST WANTED TO KNOW 1. IF RORY WAS OKAY AND 2. FOR BEAN TO STOP CONTROLLING AND ABUSING ME. YOU KNEW IT WAS ABUSE BUT YOU BACKPEDALED **HARD** BECAUSE IM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ARTIST FOR YOUR CULT AND GROUP GHOSTED ME WITH NOTHING!!! YOURE AWFUL I TRUSTED YOU I DID EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME TO DO AND YOU RUINED ME FOR LISTENING MAKE IT STOP JUST MAKE IT STOP MAKE THE PAIN STOP YOURE EVIL YOURE MONSTERS MAKE IT  STOP!!!?! IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER!!!! YOU POMPOUS PRIVELEGED ASSHOLE WILL NEVER HAVE TO EXPERIENCE 1/5TH OF THE HELLSCAPE YOU FORCED ME INTO IM TELLING THE TRUTH JUST BECAUSE ITS BEING YELLED IT DOESNT MEAN ITS UNTRUE IF I WERE PEA YOUD PAT ME ON THE BACK FOR "being direct and blunt with my feelings" IF I WERE BEAN YOUD UNDERSTAND MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND THE TRAUMA YOU **FORCED*** ME INTO FOR NO FUCKING REASON. BUT IM NOT SO YOU INSTEAD ABUSED ME TREATED ME LIKE DIRT AND LEFT ME TO THE DOGS YOURE FUCKING MONSTERS YOURE EVIL YOURE VILE VILE VILE!!!!

dude stop trying to garner context and character traits from the objects in my room i know youre doing it. stop clicking on shit im not gonna tell you about - oh that picture is of me and my dad. yeah he's not really in my life anymore i just keep it around cause im sentimental- DUDE

[mipexch]

since layer 7 dropped you can send literally any enemy to go kill something wicked repeatedly & v2 being the one to do that is just really funny to me

[knockknockitsnickels]

I think this is one of my favorite lines from the Wraith route because of (imo) how much the meaning changes depending on if you got there via Spectre or Nightmare. For Spectre, it honestly strikes me as a genuine question. Why are you doing this to her? If you're on the Spectre route, you presumably already know the Narrator can't really be trusted, since you had to reject his reward to get here. What are you hoping to gain from continuing to hurt her? For Nightmare, it honestly just makes me sad. As the Shifting Mound describes her, "She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt." This line feels like a plea from someone who genuinely doesn't understand why you keep rejecting her. She wants to be with you, but she just can't understand how to do that in a way which doesn't hurt you.

[im-human-i-matter-i-exist]

@oripoke @delirious-dove @deludeddragon @rinbedo *IM* THE ONE YOU OWE AN APOLOGY TO?!? YOU DEFEND THE HATE ATTACKS "not hate" WHEN IT WAS PAGES OF VILE CRUELTY TO SOMEONE ALREADY SUFFERING SO MUCH. IF SOMEONE WAS RAPED YOUR GROUP WOULD SAY SHE DESERVED IT "because she was being unhinged about it" YOU LITERALLY TORTURED ME YOU RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE YOURE MONSTERS YOURE EVIL MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP PAIN PAIN 11 MONTHS NONSTOP TORTURE I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME MY HOME MY SAVINGS MY FRIENDS MY TRANS HEALTHCARE MY ARM MY DIGNITY MY BOYDRIEND HOPE MY CAT ESPECIALLY NY FUCKING CAT YOU MONSTERS?!?! MY FUTURE MY CRAFT YOU RUINED MY LIFE YOU RUINED MY LIFE KILL ME FUCKING KILL ME MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!?!?!?! GHOSTED AND DIDNT EVEN TELL ME WHY IM FUCKING AUTISTIC NOBODY SAID A THING HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT I DID WRONG??? I DIDNT DO ANYTHING BUT LOVE YOU AND LISTEN TO YOU UNTIL I COULDNT TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE AND NOW THE ONLY THING YOU PEOPLE CAN DO IS GO "Hmm yes what unhinged behavior" AS IF YOU DIDNT STRAND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH NO FOOD NO FRIENDS NO FAMILY AND NO MONEY WITHOUT A WORD, WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL DYING THRICE OVER AND GETTINF ASSAULTED AND INFECTIONS ON THE ROAD YOU WERE PARTYING AND SHAKING YOUR HEADS LIKE "Hmm such a tragedy" YOU. CAUSED. IT!!!! YOU KNEW MY SITUATUON AND ENCOURAGED YOUR CULT TO MAKE IT WORSE!! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP I JUST WANTED TO TALK TO MY FRIENDS I APOLOGIZED 1,000 TIMES AND IT MEANT NOTHING, I TRIED TO TALK AND IT MEANT. NOTHING I JUST WANTED TO KNOW 1. IF RORY WAS OKAY AND 2. FOR BEAN TO STOP CONTROLLING AND ABUSING ME. YOU KNEW IT WAS ABUSE BUT YOU BACKPEDALED **HARD** BECAUSE IM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ARTIST FOR YOUR CULT AND GROUP GHOSTED ME WITH NOTHING!!! YOURE AWFUL I TRUSTED YOU I DID EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME TO DO AND YOU RUINED ME FOR LISTENING MAKE IT STOP JUST MAKE IT STOP MAKE THE PAIN STOP YOURE EVIL YOURE MONSTERS MAKE IT  STOP!!!?! IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER!!!! YOU POMPOUS PRIVELEGED ASSHOLE WILL NEVER HAVE TO EXPERIENCE 1/5TH OF THE HELLSCAPE YOU FORCED ME INTO IM TELLING THE TRUTH JUST BECAUSE ITS BEING YELLED IT DOESNT MEAN ITS UNTRUE IF I WERE PEA YOUD PAT ME ON THE BACK FOR "being direct and blunt with my feelings" IF I WERE BEAN YOUD UNDERSTAND MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND THE TRAUMA YOU **FORCED*** ME INTO FOR NO FUCKING REASON. BUT IM NOT SO YOU INSTEAD ABUSED ME TREATED ME LIKE DIRT AND LEFT ME TO THE DOGS YOURE FUCKING MONSTERS

[joshuamj]

Been enjoying EoW so far!!

Redraw of this:

[skitskatdacat63]

DTS S6E1 "Money Talks" - Fernando Alonso & Lance Stroll

[peanutseagle]

sillies under the cut

[im-human-i-matter-i-exist]

@oripoke @delirious-dove @deludeddragon @rinbedo *IM* THE ONE YOU OWE AN APOLOGY TO?!? YOU DEFEND THE HATE ATTACKS "not hate" WHEN IT WAS PAGES OF VILE CRUELTY TO SOMEONE ALREADY SUFFERING SO MUCH. IF SOMEONE WAS RAPED YOUR GROUP WOULD SAY SHE DESERVED IT "because she was being unhinged about it" YOU LITERALLY TORTURED ME YOU RUINED MY ENTIRE LIFE YOURE MONSTERS YOURE EVIL MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP PAIN PAIN 11 MONTHS NONSTOP TORTURE I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST IM NOT INVISIBLE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME MY HOME MY SAVINGS MY FRIENDS MY TRANS HEALTHCARE MY ARM MY DIGNITY MY BOYDRIEND HOPE MY CAT ESPECIALLY NY FUCKING CAT YOU MONSTERS?!?! MY FUTURE MY CRAFT YOU RUINED MY LIFE YOU RUINED MY LIFE KILL ME FUCKING KILL ME MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP!?!?!?! GHOSTED AND DIDNT EVEN TELL ME WHY IM FUCKING AUTISTIC NOBODY SAID A THING HOW WOULD I KNOW WHAT I DID WRONG??? I DIDNT DO ANYTHING BUT LOVE YOU AND LISTEN TO YOU UNTIL I COULDNT TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE AND NOW THE ONLY THING YOU PEOPLE CAN DO IS GO "Hmm yes what unhinged behavior" AS IF YOU DIDNT STRAND ME IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH NO FOOD NO FRIENDS NO FAMILY AND NO MONEY WITHOUT A WORD, WHILE I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL DYING THRICE OVER AND GETTINF ASSAULTED AND INFECTIONS ON THE ROAD YOU WERE PARTYING AND SHAKING YOUR HEADS LIKE "Hmm such a tragedy" YOU. CAUSED. IT!!!! YOU KNEW MY SITUATUON AND ENCOURAGED YOUR CULT TO MAKE IT WORSE!! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP I JUST WANTED TO TALK TO MY FRIENDS I APOLOGIZED 1,000 TIMES AND IT MEANT NOTHING, I TRIED TO TALK AND IT MEANT. NOTHING I JUST WANTED TO KNOW 1. IF RORY WAS OKAY AND 2. FOR BEAN TO STOP CONTROLLING AND ABUSING ME. YOU KNEW IT WAS ABUSE BUT YOU BACKPEDALED **HARD** BECAUSE IM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ARTIST FOR YOUR CULT AND GROUP GHOSTED ME WITH NOTHING!!! YOURE AWFUL I TRUSTED YOU I DID EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME TO DO AND YOU RUINED ME FOR LISTENING MAKE IT STOP JUST MAKE IT STOP MAKE THE PAIN STOP YOURE EVIL YOURE MONSTERS MAKE IT  STOP!!!?! IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER IM NOT INVISIBLE I EXIST I MATTER!!!! YOU POMPOUS PRIVELEGED ASSHOLE WILL NEVER HAVE TO EXPERIENCE 1/5TH OF THE HELLSCAPE YOU FORCED ME INTO IM TELLING THE TRUTH JUST BECAUSE ITS BEING YELLED IT DOESNT MEAN ITS UNTRUE IF I WERE PEA YOUD PAT ME ON THE BACK FOR "being direct and blunt with my feelings" IF I WERE BEAN YOUD UNDERSTAND MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND THE TRAUMA YOU **FORCED*** ME INTO FOR NO FUCKING REASON. BUT IM NOT SO YOU INSTEAD ABUSED ME TREATED ME LIKE DIRT AND LEFT ME TO THE DOGS YOURE FUCKING MONSTERS YOURE EVIL YOURE VILE VILE VILE!!!!

getting really into journaling is so fucked because you will fr end up with pages like "dear diary, it's fucken wimdy today!!!!! also I might be a talentless hack with no real creative drive or discipline to speak of. xoxo ✨"