#everyone should be in the position to do something they can enjoy

[sugar-crash]

🪲👑CYBUG King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader🍭🕷️

(“Get BACK here LITTLE GUY~!” Edition)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(CW: Unhealthy relationship dynamic, then again that’s not new with my headcanons.

Ask here! Here it is… I just needed a moment to myself I guess, that and I’m just lazy as shit lol.)

- Honestly, Anon, you’re right about how he acts when he gets his cybug form. It immediately goes straight to his head, and he’s obnoxious about it.

- His desire to have power over others can be enacted onto someone he thought he could never overcome, at least not physically, solely having to rely on that silver tongue of his to get what he wants, but now? HOHOHOOO

- He uses it as a means for intimidation over you, making you do things for him even though he’s more than capable of doing it, just using his more powerful form to stronghold you in a position under him… Get your mind out of the gutter.

- He keeps you close both metaphorically and physically, making you watch the destruction of the arcade and its occupants in the ravages of an apocalypse of his design.

- It’s no surprise that he enjoys the misery he brings upon you, the tears? The begging?? It gives him a kind of satisfaction that he almost immediately becomes addicted to.

- NOT a good person, with his outsides simply being what he is on the inside at that point, an apathetic monster who just wants to drag everyone down so he can be the best of the worst, with you being no exception. He revels in the idea that he makes you miserable, all the while being the only person you could solidly rely on— Your life in his clawed hands.

- He’s so much more possessive because of that, so desperate to keep you just so he can make you feel so much lesser than him, a piece of the past he can keep all to himself, that no other person or cybug can touch without feeling his monstrous wrath.

- He’s so playfully ruthless when it comes to you, it’s all a game to him really, a game he wins time and time again just to see that ember of hope diminish in you as you realize how truly hopeless your situation is.

- The gloating never ends, always and forever will be a sore winner, thinking his new virus-riddled ��friends’ are his new thing to command, hybrid or not because he thinks he deserves it, just like how he thinks he deserves you, as nasty as that sounds.

- His entitlement palpable in the way he conducts himself when he and his swarm set their eyes on an arcade cabinet with a hunger that can never be satisfied.

- He’s a scourge on everything his claws touch, especially to you, deranged words and giggles leaving him as he torments you, he’s patronizing in nature, making digging comments about how you’re so below him—

- That you should be thankful that he spared you, that he even gives you the time of day when he could be doing more important things.

- His toxic mannerisms are so much more obvious now, not that they were subtle in the first place, but it’s right in your face now, literally and figuratively as he puts you down, slowly chipping away your confidence as a means to make you more reliant on him.

- His touches are ‘loving’ in a way that an anaconda tightens around its prey, suffocating, just another way he loves to remind you that he has all the power in the arcade to kill you but chooses not to—

- Just another ploy to make you fear him enough to not find another person behind his back or something.

- Even with all that power at his fingertips, he’s paranoid, overly so, his mind going through every single thing that could go wrong, what could get him into the grave once more, reacting impulsively and ruthlessly because of it.

- He uses the swarm as a way to have control over the arcade, as much as it would make him happy to destroy all of it in one fell swoop, he realizes that would simply get everything unplugged— Game over for you and him.

- That’s a total no-no, he wants this to last as long as it possibly can before everything inevitably goes to shit with how destructive the cybugs naturally are, something he refuses to even acknowledge.

- His ambition makes him overzealous, constricting the arcades' way of life with the threat of the swarm, including your own, in a way that benefits him and him alone, just because he can, it’s all about power to him.

- To have things no one else can, to be the most threatening thing in the arcade, with no one in his way.

(Finished this in one day because of a sudden spike of inspiration… So if there’s like any grammar mistakes and such, sorry lol.)

[habaritess]

I largely enjoyed The Bear season 4. I loved where the show went with most of the characters. These characters have become like a comfort blanket to me because I enjoyed them so much and fell for them so hard. That only happens when a show really hit with me in terms of characterization. I care about each and every one of them and loved watching them grow, and I loved what they choose to do with each of them.

Marcus winning chef of the year is well deserved. We started off with a character who was just meandering through life, only to find his passion and he jumps head first into it, researching, finding inspiration, learning from his mistakes, all to come out at the end as not only a good chef, but easily one of the best. I loved that for him.

I enjoyed seeing Donna, the mother, own up to her mistakes and have episodes that focused on her recognizing her toxicity and trying to make up for it. I loved that scene with Donna apologizing to Carmy and finally telling him he is enough! And Carmy accepting that apology and wanting to make something for her. I had no idea whether or not he would forgive his mother and I can see why he wouldn't, but he chose to open that door up, and it makes me so happy!

We saw Richie dealing with his mental torment at the ideal of a more successful and wealthy man marrying his wife and, what felt to him, replacing him as a dad in his daughters life and how insecure he felt in his life because of it. A situation any human can sympathize with, only to discover that he isn't the only one who is incredibly insecure in his new role, and the new man in the house is just as rattled about this change as he is. He discovered how his daughter will always have him as number one in her heart, and a stepfather will never change that.

I loved seeing Ebrahim taking the time, energy, and research to make the next step in his work. He did not want to go back to school and I really respect him for that, because not everyone grows in that kind of institution. I think that is very important and what I loved about the Bear. Marcus didn't go to school for cooking, he devotedly followed his passion and tried to get better and better at it and did. He didn't need to take out thousands of dollars in loans to do it. Ebrahim is potentially going to grow The Beef into a successful franchise as him as the head.

I enjoyed seeing Tina and her struggle with the standards of being in a professional kitchen. I can relate to her and her frustrations. From watching all 4 seasons, you see Tina struggling to keep up, and the stress that comes with it. But she didn't give up. She practiced and practiced at it until she could do it, and this is a really important lesson in it all.

One of the things I loved about The Bear is how all the characters are now in way better positions in life than where they first started. They all obtained the skills they needed to really advanced in life and if worst comes to worst and The Bear closes, I can see them all being able to move on professionally. They aren't just sitting ducks who will collapse with the barn when it falls. Marcus not only has the skills now, but is now nationally recognized for his skills, Tina has professional culinary classes under her belt so finding a job in another professional cooking environment should be easier, Ebrahim could potentially take The Beef to new heights, and Gary is becoming a wine expert and can work in similar field now. They don't NEED The Bear anymore, which is important. They choose it because they are found family and want this restaurant to work to stay together.

I feel like all these characters have been given very satisfactory character development, and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel for them as far as where they are all going. It was a joy to watch them.

The show did everyone else so well that it is incredibly puzzling to me that they failed in the progression of the two main characters of The Bear, and part of the reason why they failed in it, IMO, is that the story forgoes the obvious conclusion that was building up from the first 3 seasons of The Bear in order to push Carmy in a direction that is away from restaurant entirely and away from his partnership with Sydney, and that makes NO sense.

And this is getting much too long, but I will continue in another post about most of my hang ups with Season 4.

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[pencilium]

While not an exhaustive study, these figures are supported by anecdotally by other A03 users [x]

I’ve seen five different authors take down, or prepare to take down, their posted works on Ao3 this week.  At the same time, I’ve seen several people wishing there was more new content to read.  I’ve also seen countless posts by authors begging for people to leave comments and kudos. 

People tell me I am a big name fan in my chosen fandom.  I don’t quite get that but for the purposes of this post, let’s roll with it.  On my latest one shot, less than 18% of the people who read it bothered to hit the kudos button.  Sure, okay, maybe that one sort of sucked.  Let’s look at the one shot posted before that - less than 16% left kudos.  Before that - 10%, and then 16%.  I’m not even going to get into the comments.  Let’s just say the numbers drop a lot.  I’m just looking at one shots here so we don’t have to worry about multiple hits from multiple chapters, people reading previous chapters over, etc.  And if I am a BNF, that means other people are getting significantly less kudos and comments.

Fandom is withering away because it feels like people don’t care about the works that are posted.  Why should I go to the trouble of posting my stories if no one reads them, and of the people who do read them, less than a fifth like them?  Even if you are not a huge fan of the story, if it kept your attention long enough for you to get to the bottom, go ahead and mash that kudos button.  It’s a drop of encouragement in a big desert. 

TL;DR: Passively devouring content is killing fandom.

[uramakimochi]

Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

[cloverapple]

How I Shift On Command + How You Can Too

I don’t plan on posting anything other than this or starting a blog, so I don’t need anyone to “believe” in me. The only person you should trust is yourself—trust yourself to resonate positively with what you see online and click away if it doesn’t serve you. This is here for you to take from if it resonates. I literally only made this blog to post this here. My hope is that it reaches at least one person who can take something from this and apply it to their shifting journey. If not, and this post ends up here untouched, I’m just glad to finally get everything down in words and off my chest. 

Jumping straight to the answer because I’m not going to make anyone sit through a long post for it. The rest, the "advice," is here if you want to read it.

The "method"

I figured out what works specifically for me as an individual instead of following everyone else’s journey. Everyone has their “thing” that makes shifting click, a sweet spot that makes reality shifting possible. For me, it’s a combination of the law of assumption and inducing an altered state of consciousness.

During the day, I spend time affirming—or sometimes just reminding myself or keeping a little note nearby—things like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift tonight.

Shifting is accessible to me.

At night, I watch videos, look at Pinterest boards, or listen to music that reminds me of my DR. This ingrains where I’m going in my brain. Sometimes I do this for fun, and other times I skip it entirely.

When I lay down, I always lie on my back and stay somewhat still because I like the feeling of my body going numb. This isn’t necessary to shift, but I enjoy it—it lets me feel the symptoms of hypnagogia (that in-between state of wakefulness and sleep).

To meditate quickly, I count from 1 to 100 with a few affirmations in between to remind myself of what I’m doing. I do this until my body goes numb, and I start messing up the counting. Usually, the mistakes or random, nonsensical thoughts are my signal to start shifting.

At this point, I begin affirming the things I affirmed during the day:

I could shift right now.

I have the ability to shift.

I have the power to shift at any moment.

While I do this, I focus on the feeling of being in my DR—not my surroundings, not my senses, just the internal feeling of being there.

This is where “brazen impudence” comes in. I hard-force myself to feel like I’m in my DR. It’s not about imagining my surroundings but purely about embodying the feeling of being there.

Hypnagogic imagery and sensations like floating often kick in at this point. These are symptoms of your body falling asleep so your awareness can take shape in that sweet spot for shifting.

I continue this, then stop and start counting from 1 to 100 again, with affirmations like:

I can shift.

I know how to shift.

I could shift right now.

Then I repeat the process: using brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I’m in my DR.

Eventually, I reach that threshold between sleep and wake—a liminal state of pure consciousness. Body asleep, mind awake, I call this the “rabbit hole” which is honstly just a deep state of hypnogogia. It’s a state where anything is possible: lucid dreaming, astral projection, slipping into the void, shifting—anything.

When I’m in this state, I use brazen impudence to force myself to feel like I'm shifting to my DR and don't take no for an answer (I tell myself I'm in Barbados and shut the door in my own face). This can involve affirmations or just talking myself through it, either way I wake myself up there. Occasionally, I simply relax, expect to wake up in my DR, fall asleep, and wake up shifted.

Does all that sound complicated? Let me simplify:

Lay down and get comfortable.

Count from 1 to 100 on a loop with affirmations in between until you mess up the counting, get sleepy, or have your mind wander. Like this:

Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations* Me: *counts from 1 - 100* Me: *says a few affirmations/askfirmations*

On a loop until...

Persist in the feel of being in your DR—not focusing on surroundings or senses, just the feeling. Feeling is the secret.

Alternate between steps 2 and 3 until you’re in that relaxed body asleep/mind awake state, OR just straight up hypnogogia tbh. (That is, if you don’t already shift lol)

From there, choose what feels right: shift from a lucid dream, affirm, slip into the void, or just feel yourself in your DR like I do, convince yourself that either you shifted and are there, or are shifting and will end up there.

One thing I’ll tell you now—regardless of your circumstances, how long you’ve been trying, how long it’ll take, who you are, etc—is that you already know how to shift. You, reading this right now. You know how to shift, and there’s nothing you did to learn it. There’s nothing you can do to unlearn it. It’s something that will stay with you until the end of time.

Why do you think people shift randomly without prior knowledge of shifting? Even people who don’t believe in it? It’s because everyone can shift. You can shift.

Right now, stop reading this post and say in your head or out loud, “I already know how to shift.” Or, if that doesn’t feel right, “I already have the ability to shift,” “No matter what, I have the power to shift,” or “My mind knows how to shift no matter what.”

Can you argue that? No, you can’t. And if your mind starts throwing out “buts,” go back and read that again.

Shifting isn’t difficult, and no one struggles to shift. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—that shifting is simple and happens in seconds—because it does. You don’t struggle with shifting. You can shift; everyone has the power to. What you “struggle” with, so to speak, is figuring out what works for you, what your brain likes, how it operates—because everyone is different.

What ended up working for me more than anything was figuring out how I operate and modifying shifting to fit me—not forcing myself to fit shifting.

Will my method work for everyone? I have no idea. Unless you assume it will work for you, this is what works for me. I’m me, and you’re you.

Before you say “Oh, but I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked so far” and expect me to sit here and ask you “but have you really tried everything? <3” , listen to me. 

I could shift perfectly well with my own personal method before I started shifting regularly. I knew it worked well for my brain, but the thing that “blocked” me (so to speak) were my assumptions. 

When you sit there and say “I’ve tried everything and nothing has worked” that’s your assumption about yourself. You believe that nothing works for you, that you don't know how to shift, that you’re this powerless, lost baby shifter who needs guidance. 

There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s not your fault, and theoretically you could shift even with your “blockages” (I really hate that term), as shifting waits for no one.

This is why so many people shift randomly and with poor assumptions without meaning to. But you clicked on this because you want to know how you can shift consistently + on every time, and this is the answer I’m giving you. 

You find out what works better for you, be it affirming, visualizing, scripting, shifting awake, shifting asleep, shifting with hypnagogia, shifting with hypnopompic, shifting through lucid dreams, shifting with brazen impudence, through SATs, robotic affirming, through letting go, through putting your DR on a pedestal, through listening to music, through law of assumption alone, and many more. 

If that sounds overwhelming, please note that all of these are the same vehicles that get you to your destination. Just in different shapes and colors. Like how some people drive a car, others drive a motorcycle, others walk, others swim. The movement forward is always the same. 

What you’re doing, no matter how you’re doing it or in whatever state of consciousness you’re doing it from, will always be:

Assume it's true, feel it, receive it. “Assume and persist,” “ground yourself in the assumption,” you’ve heard it all before. 

How to Find What Makes You Shift On Command

You could either test different techniques (affirmations, visualizations, scripting, lucid dreaming, etc.) and see what feels natural to you. 

You could (and I love this one because it’s a cheat code) Assume you already know what works, and let the law of assumption guide you. “Manifest it” so to speak. 

Pay attention to your life, because you already shift on command, you've been doing it your whole life, but I guarantee you haven't noticed it. Pay attention to you, like how easily you slip into hypnagogia, your dream recall, or how strong your intuition is, maybe you put too much emotion into a scenario you don’t want in your life and it inherently manifests, things like that. Pay attention to the thing that makes you go “huh, that was weird”

“But Clover, I tried everything you mentioned above and still haven’t found my method!” 

My darling. Listen up. Come closer—I’m about to let you in on a secret. The way you apply the law of assumption isn’t one-size-fits-all, because assumptions and beliefs are not linear. It's the same every time, yes, it's a law. But just like you, the way you can use it is unique to each person.

Let me tell you how easy it is so you don't think I'm over-complicating it

You could, for instance, believe you’ve got $1000 in your bank account right now and act like it, fully living in the end. Or you could believe you’re going to have $1000 in your account and act like it’s already on its way. Or maybe you believe something’s going to happen that’ll bring you that $1000.

The same applies to shifting. It’s been a game changer for me. I used to struggle so much with things like:

“You’re already in your DR, just act like it.”

“Ignore the 3D.”

“You’ve already shifted.”

Do those methods work? Absolutely, they work beautifully. But like I said, if it doesn’t feel good or true to you, don’t force it.

My dearest, darling reader. If the story you see in your 3D is that you can’t shift, can’t find what makes you shift, are you just going to sit there and accept it? What is more satisfying? Think with me here: accepting that you don’t know how to shift and cannot shift, or persisting that you do know how to shift? 

“Clover, but I’ve been trying for 4 years! I’ve tried everything and I still haven’t shifted”

So that's your story? Your story, your assumption is that you’ve been trying for 4 years and haven’t shifted? If you’ve resonated with the phrase above, that’s your story. And there’s nothing wrong with it, but! there will be no magic solution for shifting. Or a magic method. Or a person like me giving you advice, that can make you shift without you changing your assumptions first.

“But I don’t want to reprogram my mind! It doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to do robotic affirming 24/7, I want results now!” 

I know, right? It’s annoying having to do these 100-step methods, and drink charged water, and have to beg the universe for your desire, and loop affirmations in your mind that directly contradict what you’re experiencing in the 3D.

“Oh ignore the 3D, the 4D is your only real imagination!” they say, as you sit there, clutching your phone, rocking back and forth in bed, repeating affirmations you don’t resonate with while dreaming of being railed by your S/O.

Believe me, I've been there, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I asked myself why couldn't these basic steps that worked for everyone else work for me. I blamed myself for not trying hard enough, for being lazy, for inconsistent. When all that time, the answer was me. I needed to manifest/shift in a way that felt good for me.

Just remember, the law of assumption isn't complicated, and the way you apply it is not one-size-fits-all. Reprogramming the mind through continuous repetition and affirmation works, and if that resonates with you or feels effective, you should absolutely go for it.

However, at its core, you don’t inherently need to reprogram your mind. It’s as simple as assuming your mind has already been reprogrammed and watching it unfold before your eyes. You do what feels right to you.

For example, if person A does better with visualization and listening to music, why on earth are they affirming and listening to subliminals?

If person B feels better scripting in a notebook, why the hell are they reprogramming their mind?

If person C feels good reprogramming their mind, why are they taking the simple route?

Funny, isn't it? Which is why if you've read all of this so far, and you have not resonated with it, just click away. Go find another post or advice that feels true to you. The words I'm writing right now are not universal, they're not the absolute truth. That's the beauty of the law of assumption. Whatever you believe to be true, becomes true.

I didn’t feel good with the affirmations “I’m already in my DR” and “I already shifted.” Do they work, are they true? Yup, but I didn’t feel good ignoring the 3D, even when I knew the 4D was the true reality. So I swapped them for affirmations like "I'm shifting to my DR", “I’m going to shift to my DR”, swapping things like “I already shifted” to “I’m shifting” because those are the kinds of affirmations my brain loves. 

I've heard a silly bit of misinfo that these affirmations stating future events put you in an infinite loop, and that they don’t make you achieve your desire. That’s not true? At all? Makes me laugh, really. Because here I am, “master shifter” or whatever name people give it in this reality, shifting as much as I want to wherever I want with these types of affirmations.

Yet here I see every day on the internet, people implanting stubborn little rules and regulations to a practice that has been done for ages, a universal law that will work even when you don’t care for it to work. 

How I Shifted The First Time

The law of assumption is what made me shift in the end. Initially, I surprised myself at the beginning of my shifting journey because I shifted three months after starting it. I woke up one morning in my DR room, felt it was real, knew it was possible, but accidentally shifted back because it was too good to be true. 

What followed was a period of losing my mind; I shift back to my DR for a few seconds (mini-shifts), fully shifted to different rparallel ealities, and filled the hell out of shifting journals with my discoveries as I went along. But I never fully shifted to my DR and stayed there. I wanted to permashift. I was so focused on leaving my CR and going to my DR permanently, frustrated because I knew I could shift, knew how to in theory, but was stuck in this endless loop of assuming I couldn't make myself shift and had to rely on spontaneous shifts.

And then one night it clicked when I was reflecting on the law of assumption and reality shifting. I knew shifting was real. I knew I could shift. Everyone can shift. I had shifted before. I would continue to shift even if I gave up on shifting. I could shift that night if I wanted to. I could shift that night even if I didn't want to. I knew how to shift. And so do you.

These are all assumptions I went to sleep with in mind, laying there, feeling like an idiot as it all clicked for me. 

If there was no doubt in my mind that I could shift that night, why wouldn’t I be able to shift? 

What followed was an overwhelming sense of peace washing over me. I let go. What more was there to be done? I could shift. There was no crying or screaming that could make me shift more than I could right then. 

I laid there and started my process. Just like I mentioned earlier. I began counting from 1 - 100 on a continuous loop. With affirmations that I could shift, I knew how to shift , I could shift that night.

And then I reached hypnagogia, and began inducing the feeling of being in my DR, just like I mentioned earlier. That liminal space rabbit hole shortly followed. I could go anywhere I wanted then. I could lucid dream. I could astral project. I could slip into the void. I could shift, and I did. Just…letting go and inducing the feeling of being in my DR. Not the surroundings, not the 5 senses, no affirmations. Just knowing that I was in my Dr. 

It was peaceful. 

I was at ease. 

And then I was woken up by a violent crack of thunder because my dumbass scripted my DR wakeup scenario to be in the middle of spring, and it was raining -_- 

I woke up in my DR, fully grounded, fully there, pinching my skin purple because I couldn't believe I was looking out the window at my DR city.

I wish I could tell you that I remained cool, but I so didn’t. I sat in bed for a good 10 minutes, mouth agape, repeating “oohh fuck it’s real….ohhh my god it’s real…whaaat the hell.” 

And then I paced around my room panicking, giggling like an idiot, checking my DR phone because all my friends and DR life was on there as evidence, opening drawers, looking at myself in the mirror, and straight-up freaking out. 

What followed after that was incredible, something I lack the words to describe. I spent a few weeks in my DR before shifting back, spending a few weeks here and then shifting back–here, back, here, back and forth, spending more time in my DR then my CR to the point where I consider my DR my true reality, and this one as my “other” reality. 

I shifted back here in early December of last year, and I’m here now before I shift back permanently—meaning, I’ll shift there, and then the next time I shift will be to another DR or a waiting room somewhere in the multiverse. I’m taking a "break" so to speak and hanging out here until events I scripted in my DR start to happen, and my life changes (positively, all good things I assure). 

I’m not sure if the person or people who find this post will care, but my other reality was originally called my “Witch DR”, where, as the name suggests, I’m a witch :) But not the fun kind, with a broomstick, a cauldron, and a pet cat though 😂The kind where I have to be up early for work in the mornings, can’t keep a cat because the building I live in doesn’t allow it, and have more responsibilities there than I do in this reality. 

One thing I didn’t expect about shifting before I lived there the first time is that—it’s life. You will have good days. You will have bad days. You will fuck up. You will laugh so hard that soda comes out of your nose. You will cry more than you ever have. And the people you once saw on a TV screen are very real, and can be very annoying lol. I miss my DR friends dearly right now, but I can’t go poking around the internet for videos and pictures of them because it feels so weird. 

Gut feelings are strange. I use them as a compass in both realities whenever I have to manually flap the butterfly’s wings and take a route. I felt compelled to write this post, and I’m not sure why. But if what this post has the power to help one singular person and help them realize their power, I'll be beyond happy.

[hoshigray]

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example. 

Yes, you have a boyfriend. 

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material. 

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more. 

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true. 

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears. 

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?” 

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases. 

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?” 

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle. 

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm. 

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some— 

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace. 

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs. 

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?” 

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right? 

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries. 

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire. 

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots.  So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!” 

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.” 

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…” 

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.  

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves. 

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours. 

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties! 

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun. 

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice. 

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?” 

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.” 

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction. 

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking. 

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider. 

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first name that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.” 

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room. 

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in. 

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.” 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠����𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by alp (ringoya) + dividers by @/cafekitsune.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Ok so I’ve had this question for a while and I feel like you’ll be able to give me a good answer. I understand that we’re absolutely not supposed to support anything JKR does monetarily and I never intend to do so. However is engaging with Harry Potter media *at all* also something I should not do or is it only things that give her money?

Like, would there be anything wrong with me playing Hogwarts Legacy if I pirated it? Is fanfiction and fan art ok to consume? Or is engaging with the IP at all going to be harmful in a way that I don’t see atm?

Thank you for your time!

I don't really think a cis person is the right person to ask about this, but I also know that trans people are sick to death of having to field these questions so I'll do my best to answer this, if everyone who reads my answer will promise me that you will NOT use anything I say in this post as an annoying argument against a trans person who has a different opinion on the matter. Remember whose opinions are actually important here.

And look, number one, you can do whatever the fuck you want. Nobody can stop you. If you, in yourself, in your soul, feel morally comfortable consuming Harry Potter by some convoluted method of Ethical Consumption™, then go and do that, and own it, and have the strength to be judged for your decisions.

Trans people might not trust you - hell, I'll probably not trust you either. They might get angry at you, and criticize you, or roll their eyes and call you a fucking loser. If you have the moral conviction that what you are doing is right, and that you are acting in accordance with your beliefs and you are not doing harm, then stand by that conviction and face the consequences. Have that strength of character.

But if you feel the need to go around posting and arguing that it's unfair, that you shouldn't be judged, that you should get to be a special exception and people are unreasonable when they get mad at you... then that is evidence, proof positive, that you are a fucking loser. That you are cowardly, and you don't actually believe that what you are doing is right, you just want the world to affirm your fragile ego while you enjoy your little treats.

To be clear, I am not accusing you of doing this (you seem to just earnestly be asking for guidance), but there's a hell of a lot of people who do do this, and you don't want to be one of them.

So that's number one. Do whatever the fuck you want, and face the consequences with a spine.

Number two is... just fucking drop it. That is my earnest advice to you. Just fucking drop Harry Potter. They are children's books from the early 2000s, they just are not that fucking good or important. The Hogwarts Legacy game is live service slop; the movies are passable at best and their quality comes from the actors being better than the source material. Just drop it. Harry Potter has nothing to offer that you can't get elsewhere from better media with better authors, or problematic authors who have good grace to at least be dead.

Don't waste your life thinking about complicated ways to circumvent the moral problem of JK Rowling's rancid transphobic hate-aura at the center of the franchise, don't waste your finite time on Earth trying to thread that stupid needle. Harry Potter isn't worth this. Rowling is old, and shriveling from hate and mold fumes, at the very least just wait for her to fucking die, and for her political project to fail, before you pick that world back up again.

I speak as someone who read the first book at age 11, hyperfixated on relating to Harry, and whose entire cultural life was consumed by the franchise for over a decade. It is not worth it. You don't need it, you don't need the stress of trying to navigate how or whether to engage with it ethically. You almost certainly have an enormous backlog of other books, games, movies and TV shows you've been meaning to get around to, so just go do that instead. I promise you it will be infinitely more rewarding, and infinitely less compromised by stress and guilt and cognitive dissonance.

And while you're at it, send some money to a trans charity and go scream invectives at a transphobic politician some time.

[heywriters]

Details That Convey Intimacy

Developing fictional relationships that feel authentic takes more than dialogue and grand gestures. Every detail below can be used to show platonic, familial, agape, or romantic love depending on context.

cooking a meal for someone, bringing them food, or spontaneously sharing a snack

sharing body heat/warming someone with outerwear like jackets and scarves

fanning them with something if overheated

getting a cold/hot drink for them

offering to carry something, whether it's heavy or just a jacket, to lighten someone's load or free up their hands

more below the click!

changing the subject of a group conversation that will be personally discomforting to someone in the group

making sure to include someone in a group conversation, especially if it's a topic they have special knowledge of

waiting for someone to catch up when the rest of the group has walked ahead

remembering preferences/allergies ahead of time when preparing/ordering food

planning trips, whether in a pair or as a group, that provide something positive for every individual to enjoy

procuring personal healthcare items like sunscreen, moisturizer, lip balm, pain relievers, or a snack and keeping them on hand for that friend who frequently needs them

making room for someone in a crowded vehicle or on public transit

making room for someone under an awning or in another limited space to help them avoid bad weather

warning or wordlessly covering for someone with a wardrobe/cosmetic malfunction

remembering a small luxury someone mentioned they enjoy, and getting it for them the next time it's convenient

running an errand for someone to make their day easier ('importance of errand : depth of relationship' ratio should be explored)

escorting someone to safety in a sudden unsettling event

escorting someone who is drunk, sick, infirm, injured, or emotionally compromised

asking if light, noise, or other sensory factors are bothering someone and taking steps to make them more comfortable

getting gag gifts for someone to show you reciprocate their sense of humor or quirky self-expression (not everyone does this, not everyone appreciates it, and some people predominantly express love through humor and gag gifts; works well with some characters more than others)

holding someone's hand or arm as reassurance, especially when they are afraid*

using their body to block someone from wind, rain, or heat

picking up a dropped item, or carrying a train or other dragging garment for someone else

returning a recognizable possession to someone who may have lost it

This is an inexhaustible list as humans have many ways of showing love for each other. If you are writing spec fic with non-human characters, you can play with variations on these by remembering three core values the "lover" has to consider:

physical comfort of others

emotional comfort of others

social reputation of others

I'd add "sensory comfort" though I think it's tied to physical and emotional comfort.

Please do not try and force any of these into the mold of the misogyny-based "Love Language" trend. Human emotions and expressions of love are diverse and endless.

*While hand holding can be construed as romantic, in reality it varies. Some cultures do not see this as romantic, and some individuals only mean it as a sign of support or compassion. Same goes for long embraces and kissing, both can be done platonically and of course naturally between close family members or friends.

---

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[quickestgold]

Still Life: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: Jack always expects the unexpected, both as a doctor and a partner. But when your water breaks during a citywide blackout, the pressure to deliver your baby safely grows with each contraction, trapping you, him and Robby in a single, still moment of life and loss.

Warnings: Angst, as always; Pregnant reader; Features a graphic, traumatic birth > Similar to the birth scene in the show. Pls don’t read if this sounds too heavy for you!! (everyone lives)

Word count: 2.7k+

A/n: Yes, this is a cliché baby-born-in-an-elevator story, but the show gave us Abbot/Robby x Elevator and Collins mentioned getting stuck while giving birth, sooo what can I say, we're here now, aren't we. Something something about the enclosed space being a metaphor for birth etc. I’m also very passionate about raising awareness for birth trauma / birth related injuries + these are my emotional support sad boys, so I had to… Enjoy <3

“I’m not giving my baby an old white guy name” you deadpan, leaning against the nurses' station, glancing up at the board with a playful grin. Ellis and Shen chuckle at your honesty, Princess and Perlah enjoying the show from a distance.

As if summoned, “Oh I know you’re not talking about us” Robby counters, him and Jack suddenly appearing next to you.

“Well I know she’s not talking about me!” Jack adds lightly with that dry humor you love so much.

"All I'm saying is, Frank is a great name for a little boy." Langdon argues from his side of the station, hands on his hips. "Frankie. Frankie Jr., the possibilities are endless..."

You roll your eyes, though you can't help but smile fondly at the camaraderie, a warm feeling growing in your stomach.

Though it might be something else.

"Maybe we should go for a name that doesn't sound like he's already retired", Jack quips, his eyes meeting yours. Something about the way you're leaning against the station, catches his attention, worry flickering in his eyes.

The storm outside has been growing since the start of your shift, a low rumble in the distance interrupts the friendly work banter.

As if on cue, you feel another tightening in your lower abdomen, this time a sharp stab that makes you wince. You brace yourself against the counter, careful not to let anyone notice.

You're 40 weeks pregnant, but you know it's not active labor... yet.

Jack is already so prepared, so meticulous. You don't want to worry him more than necessary.

“Well, my vote’s for something classic”, Robby says cheerfully. “Like, um… Robby. Simple, strong.”

"Good thing you don't get one." Jack raises an eyebrow as he steps behind you, putting an arm around your waist instinctively. With ease he holds up your belly, taking some of the weight off your back. He gently pecks your cheek, whispering into your ear. "You okay?"

You lean into his embrace, taking a breath of relief, as you feel the pressure building inside you again.

Before you can respond, the storm outside shifts from a distant rumble to something more urgent. You hear the first crack of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning that lights up the hospital windows.

“So much for having a quiet night”, Shen laughs.

You instantly shush him, loudly. Everyone's reaction's are instantaneous, Princess and Perlah cursing in Tagalog.

Ellis: "Fuuuck!" Langdon: "You always do this!"

As usual, Shen manages to jinx whatever team is unlucky enough to work his shift.

The elevator doors close with a jarring ding. The tightness in your belly flares again, but you grit your teeth and try to ignore it.

Jack and Robby stand by the doors, arms crossed, like they're guarding something precious.

You lean back against the cold metal walls, the tightening growing again, unable to find a position that's comfortable.

Even in this enclosed space, you can hear the wind howling from outside. The lights flicker, then, without warning, the power cuts out entirely, as the elevator halts to a stop.

You hear Robby curse as the emergency lights turn on, their blue glow casting everything in a surreal light. The elevator now feels even smaller, almost womb-like.

Fuck.

You groan softly, hoping Jack doesn’t catch on.

But of course, he does.

“What was that?” He turns to look directly at you, concern written across his face.

You avoid his gaze. “Nothing, I’m fine."

You say it so unconvincingly, you almost laugh at yourself.

“I can see that.” It's the same skeptical tone he uses with Santos and the other interns. It's charming actually.

“When did you start having contractions?” Robby asks, like he’s already claimed you as his patient.

You hesitate, but there's no point lying. “This morning.”

“You’re joking.” Jack is by your side in a heartbeat, torn between putting a hand on your belly or pulling out his stethoscope. Torn between being doctor, partner or father-to-be.

“I’m okay. Really.” You try to reassure him, gently touching his forearm.

That’s when you feel the warm liquid rushing down your legs, a puddle growing beneath you.

Jack and Robby's eyes drop to your feet, then up at each other. They exchange a look, no words needed. This is happening.

“I- I didn’t realize…” You breathe, dazed.

“You didn’t realize you were in pain?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“I’m always in pain, Jack", you bite back. “Ever since you knocked me up!”

You groan, turning around to lean your elbows against the wall, letting your head drop. Your breath is already ragged.

Jack’s hand finds your back, rubbing slow, grounding circles.

“I’m not having our baby in an elevator…” you pant.

“I’m afraid, we are, love.” Jack whispers gently, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

You let out another sharp groan.

“I need to examine you. Is that alright?” Jack’s voice shifts into professional gear. He pulls gloves from the pocket of his trousers, swiftly slipping them onto his hands.

You nod, squeezing your eyes tightly shut.

He lines up behind you, slipping a hand into the back of your scrubs and reaching down.

Once he’s measured with his fingers, Jack’s eyes flick up to find Robby’s, a mixture of panic and surprise flashing across his features.

Robby reads him instantly. He steps in without a word, steadying your shoulders. His grip is firm and reassuring.

“What?” You gasp.

Jack leans in close to your ear, voice soothing, but urgent. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your already burning cheek. “Honey, listen to me. We’re having this baby now.”

You groan again, louder this time.

Robby’s frown line softens, his lips forming a genuine smile. He and Jack share a warm look, full of excitement.

“No. No!” You shake your head. "Not here."

No prenatal bag. No birthing playlist. No epidural.

“I need to have a proper look, okay?” Jack says calmly, though his hands move quickly.

“Wonderful." You laugh through a groan. "This’ll make a great story for group therapy.”

Nothing says professional boundaries like giving birth in front of your boss.

“I won't look." Robby promises, quickly turning away. "But I am a doctor, you know", he chuckles.

"Not mine, you're not." Your lips form a playful smirk. "This will do wonders for your patient satisfaction scores", you add with a wink.

The air suddenly feels a bit lighter.

Jack kneels down, gently parting your legs and slipping your pants down to your knees.

His eyes widen, before whispering. "You're in active labour, baby", his voice softer now.

Robby doesn't hesitate, rushing to the elevator doors, trying to pry them open. With a metallic screech, they slide just wide enough for people to pass supplies and equipment through. But you haven’t quite reached the next floor.

“Not enough to get her out,” Jack mutters.

You lean forward and peek through the small opening.

Your cervix is probably bigger than that…

“Dana!” Robby yells.

Dana appears instantly, dropping to her stomach to peek inside. She finds you leaning against the wall, pants down, legs shaking. Jack holding you up.

“Jesus. Y’all got terrible timing you know that!”

“We need fresh gloves, blankets, a BOA kit, baby warmer, fetal monitor, anything you can pass through.” Robby orders.

Dana’s already on it, shouting over her shoulder.

Jack turns to you again. “Do you want to sit or get on your knees? What feels more comfortable?”

“I- I don’t think comfortable is the word I’d use right now." You groan. "Feels like I’m being split open front to back.”

“I know. I know." Jack’s hands are already guiding you down. "Let’s get you on the floor okay?”

You drop to all fours.

It’s so goddamn hot.

Your hair sticks to your face, salty water stinging in your eyes, the vein in your forehead threatening to pop.

You tug at your scrub top and Jack understands instantly, pulling it over your head. You sway back and forth, now only in your bra, nothing else.

Groaning. Panting. Cursing.

Jack is beside you, gently massaging your back. He moves with you, trying to match your rhythm.

He’s grateful Robby takes command, barking orders to the team above, in full doctor mode. Focused, clinical.

“You’re doing so good.” Jack whispers.

Another contraction rips through you.

Jack glances at his watch, then over to Robby, who places a surgical blanket on the floor, hooks you up to cables and machines to monitor your and the baby’s vitals.

You curse loudly. “What the hell did you do to me, Abbot!”

“I’m sorry. You can do this.” He takes your hand, squeezes. “Let's meet our boy.”

The next contraction comes fast, stealing your breath. Jack doesn’t need to look at his watch, he knows.

It’s time.

Robby positions himself behind you, breaking his earlier promise. But you forgive him, if it means having your husband by your side and not two doctors competing for who's running this.

“She’s crowning.” Robby announces. His hand applies gentle but firm pressure, to keep the baby from delivering too fast and to prevent tearing.

Jack’s hand trembles slightly in yours.

“Y/N, I can see the head. I need you to push on the next contraction okay?”

You nod your head, almost frantically.

Jack takes a deep breath, for both of you, instructing you to follow his rhythm.

A deep, guttural growl tears from your chest as you push.

And push again.

The sensation overwhelms you. The burning, the tingling, the stinging.

The ring of fire.

“That’s it. Catch your breath before the next one.” Robby's steady but kind voice anchors you. “I need one more big push. Three, two…”

Jack’s voice is soothing in your ear, but you barely register it. You’ve never experienced anything like it.

You’re not even fully in your body anymore.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours?

You feel another contraction approaching, but Robby suddenly halts you.

“Stop. Y/N, don’t push! Not this time."

“I- I have to.” You groan, almost sobbing.

“No.” Robby's voice is low, sharp.

Jack’s head snaps up.

Something's wrong.

“Baby’s shoulder is stuck on your pelvic bone. I need to release it.”

Jack turns pale, tightening the grip on your arms, preparing for the inevitable.

“I’m sorry,” Robby mutters, but before you can react, his hand breaches your entrance.

The pain is unimaginable.

Is he rearranging your organs?

You scream into Jack’s chest, muffled and desperate. He tightens his arms around you, attempting to ease your pain.

“J- Jack…”

“I know, I know, I’ve got you.” Jack's voice breaks. “Robby…"

“Hang on…” He's still rummaging in there.

"I'm sorry", tears streaking down your face. You look up to find Jack's eyes. "This is my fault... I should've-"

“Look at me. Hey,” Jack says, commanding your gaze. “We’re okay. You hear me? You and me. We’ve got this.”

“What’s going on down there?” Dana shouts from above.

“I need you to lie on your back, Y/N” Robby instructs. But before you can register his words, Jack has already flipped you around. Your bottom lowered against the floor, Jack sliding behind you to brace you in his lap. His arms wrap around your legs, pulling them up and in.

“Lean into me, baby.” Jack’s voice is soft. He closes any distance between you. Practically melting into your body.

“Okay”, Robby breathes, applying suprapubic pressure. “Let’s take a deep breath.”

You feel his hands, firm against your lower abdomen, pushing the baby downward.

“Dana! Call Dr. Ingram, from the NICU, we need him.” Robby shouts towards the elevator doors.

You swallow hard. “Please... Please tell me I'm not having a fucking c-section in an elevator.”

Robby glances up briefly. His voice is low, focused. “Not planning on it.”

He reaches in again, one hand sliding beneath the baby’s head, working carefully to release the shoulder.

Another sharp stab rips through your abdomen. It feels like someone's clawing their way out from the inside, making your vision blur.

“Fuck Robby!" You cry out, voice breaking. "Please stop.”

Though you know he can't.

“Got it.” He suddenly announces. “On the next contraction, you push again.”

Your head feels light, but you know you can’t give up. Not now. Not yet.

3, 2, 1….

You push. With everything. Every muscle. Every breath. Every part of your being.

Until...

A sound cuts through the air.

Crying. Tiny, fragile, crying.

Not yours.

Not Jack’s.

Definitely not Robby’s.

Your eyes snap open. And there he is.

Your baby boy.

Robby lifts him carefully, umbilical still attached, assessing, drying and finally, placing him gently on your chest.

You can feel an unfamiliar but indescribable warmth flood you.

A sob escapes your lips, but this time not from pain.

You've never felt a love like this. Pure and sweet. Instant.

Jack leans in, showering your forehead in kisses, then your boy.

“You did so good, my love." Jack whispers. "So fucking good.” He wraps a blanket around you both, trying to shield you from the cold, from the storm, from everything.

Robby watches the three of you, his own emotions evident in the way his eyes glimmer in the light. He waits a few moments before he's back in professional mode, clamping the cord and letting Jack cut through it.

But they know it's not over. You do too.

You feel another contraction coming…

"The placenta", you murmur.

Robby nods. “One more push for me. Ready?”

He presses into your lower abdomen, a familiar pain ripping through you again.

“There we go." Robby says quietly. "Congratulations mom and dad.”

But...

The moment of bliss suddenly turns into horror.

The world around you starts to fade.

You feel Jack’s arms tense as Robby rips your baby from your chest, passing him through the narrow gap in the elevator doors to Dana’s waiting hands above. You feel the cold breeze against your exposed chest, the loss of warmth from your boy.

What the fuck is he doing? Skin-to-skin is supposed to be longer than this!

You want to argue. Shout at him, but your body won’t let you.

Why are you lying flat on the floor? Where's Jack?

You stare at the ceiling. Your heart starts to race.

You know what this means.

You hear Robby’s voice change. Tighter. Urgent. Then Jack’s voice joins him, both of them shifting into clinical, practiced motion.

Massive blood loss.

If they can’t stop it you’ll need a hysterectomy.

Or worse.

Their words are distant, blending into the chaos of your wandering mind.

“Spike a liter of saline.” “Starting uterine massage.” “Dana! Two units from the blood bank.” "Balloon is past the cervix."

Panic rises in your belly. It travels up to your chest, then your head.

Robby’s movement are frantic now. Jack's too, eyes wide with terror.

Their hands are on you, moving, pushing, pulling, trying to keep you from slipping away.

Jack drops to his knees beside you, instantly at your face, cupping your cheeks with gloved hands slick with sweat and... blood? “Hey,Y/N? Hey.”

You blink slowly, your breath shallow.

“What- what if we name him after my dad?” Jack suggests with an unserious grin.

His deadbeat, boys-don’t-cry, toxic-masculinity-in-person father?

Another time you’d have burst into laughter. And that’s what he’s trying for. A reaction. Anything.

You blink up at him, your lips twitching. It’s a fragile smile, but it’s real.

"Michael.” You whisper.

"I'm here", Robby reassures, working steadily.

No. You gesture weakly. "Th-the baby. Mikey for short."

There’s only one Robby, so that’s the next best thing.

You and Jack want Robby to be the godfather, though he doesn't know yet. He's an important person in both of your lives. And now he's brought your son into this world.

You're glad he's there. For you. And your boys.

Especially if this goes badly...

Jack snorts, but quickly realizes you’re serious. Robby's eyes widen.

“Yeah. I like that.” Jack says softly, nodding, overwhelmed with love and fear.

Jack gently places an oxygen mask over your face, hands trembling as he brushes the soaked hair from your forehead, trying to comfort you in any way he can.

Your eyes flutter open, finding his. Memorizing him.

Jack leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, whispering things you don’t hear.

Then he feels it. The absence of your breath.

The stillness.

A moment frozen in time, reflecting the fragile balance between life and loss.

Jack's eyes shoot to Robby's, desperate.

But Robby doesn’t stop. Not for a second.

He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back.

Back to Jack.

Back to your boys.

And he wiiilll. As promised, everyone lives. But I had to end it here - for the drama lolz... Pls lmk what you think <3

Part 2: Still Alive

[snowstormarts]

Can you do cuddling headcanons for the Hanks, Mac, and parker ?

Thanks for the request and I got another ask about including Luke Nukem in the next Headcanon I write so I will include our dear, crazy microwave man in here. Also I'm going to be honest here and say I don't like Parker, sorry if it's obvious in his part & with most of the characters here I went the Friendship route ^^" But it was still fun to write!

I hope you will still enjoy it, likes & reblogs are always appreciated and don't forget to send me an Ask or Request if you want [I also really should make a do/dont write for list, huh?]

Cuddle Time #3 [Date Everything x GN!Reader]

[Feat; The Hanks, Mac, Parker & Luke Nukem] [Divider Credit]

𖣳 The Hanks 𖣳

- You are always in the middle of the pile, the other Hanks had started with drawing matches to see who sleeps next to you. But after a while Hank 2 suggested to make a detailed rotation plan, so everyone had a turn cuddling with you

- All of them run quiet hot, some run a bit cooler [Hank 1 & 5] while others are the definition of a human oven [Hank 4] so if you're cold you can ask the boys to let someone else cuddle you for the day

- All of them are diffrent cuddlers even if they all share the same amount of muscles, here are the details;

Hank 1; Smells like Peach Vanilla Bodywash, his cuddling style is the Half spoon [One arm around your shoulder, leaving his chest wide open to be used as a pillow], he also has a dream journal

Hank 2; Smells like Kiwi & Passionfruit, he cuddles the classic spooning style with him switching between being the small or big spoon [he slightly favors being the big spoon], loves to give and recieve tight hugs

Hank 3; Smells like Deodarant with a hint of Cinnamon, he prefers to have both of your arms around each other with his head resting against your sternum

Hank 4; Smells like "3 in 1" Shampoo with a cool name like "Noir" or "Cool Breeze", he has you laying on top of him with one of his arms around your hip while the other runs up and down your arm, talks about his future plans durring cuddle time he soemtimes asks for feedback on those plans

Hank 5; Smells like Mint & Lime, his cuddle style is the Honeymoon Hug [Arms holding each other, legs intertwined and your head resting in the crook of his neck as his head rests atop of yours], sings lullaby to lull everyone to sleep he has a nice voice

🖥 Mac 🖥

- Thanks to all your fanfiction and acess to the internet they know many diffrent ways of cuddling & snuggling with you, they will offer you a few to choose from

- Dosen't care what position they are, little spoon, big spoon, something else they just enjoy being with you. That said they do prefer the lap pillow cuddle style where either you rest on their lap and they get to play with your hair or they get to lay on your lap and talk about their day

- Will play cozy game soundtracks from their little mouse buddy who besides being a mouse is also a portable bluetooth speaker [Mac got bored one day and just improved the lil' guy & then went "Do you want bluetooth speakers? Yeah? Ok"]

♟ Parker ♟

- He will roll for the Cuddle position, who's the big/small spoon and where you should cuddle [the bed, couch, floor, the yoga mat, ect], you can't stop him unless you beat him in another game

- He falls so quickly asleep during cuddling, he's just so relaxed and safe with you that his whole body goes comfy eepy mode

- Loves to have you rest in the crook of his neck with his arm around you while the other waves around wildly while he explains a new game to you. He will sometimes lean down to nuzzle you before going back to talking

🧨 Luke Nukem 🧨

- While he's a loud and energetic person deep inside he's a softie and that's best reflected when you two cuddle togehther, it's one of the few times where he can be himself without having to fear to be judged

- He will ask you to hold him tightly more often then not but when he senses that you had a bad day he won't hesitate to hug you tightly, wrap a blanket around you and turn you two into a cuddle burrito. He will also make a strange, whispery beeping sound mixed with vibrations to simulate purring [he learned that from Timothy once that purring can help to lower stress and anxiety, a great tool to have in this wasteland]

- He told you that Cuddles ward off Youngling Swarmer who are super tiny and will dig into your skin, so you should stay always close to him so you're both safe in this cruel, monster filled world, Ranger

[firingstars]

love, persevering [one-shot]

thunderbolts!bucky x agent!reader

summary: grief, trauma, and a broken heart is an unstable platform for a relationship to thrive on, and neither you nor bucky ever made it clear what your relationship actually was.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, rough/angry sex, angst, hurt, panic attacks, anxiety, misunderstandings, yearning, comfort, shame rooms, depictions of violence and death, thunderbolts semi movie spoilers, timeline is set from end of civil war to thunderbolts, happy ending

word count: 11.5k

a/n: good luck to everyone who reads this!!!

masterlist

・・・・・ Queens, New York; 2023

“This is what you fucking wanted from me, right?” Bucky grunted from behind you, but you can’t speak. 

You have a million things you want to say to him, but none of them are right. Bucky wouldn’t listen to you even if you tried to explain. 

You’re shoved into the pillow beneath you, only moans ripping from your throat— the only sound that you can produce in response to his question. 

The only other noise between the two of you is the sound of skin slapping against skin as he pounds you from behind. The grip he has on your hips is bruising, and not in the way you usually enjoy it. 

He’s mad, and it’s your fault. 

“I asked you a question. Answer.”

His hand comes down on your ass, smacking it so hard you can’t help but moan, knowing that he left a mark on your body that will last. Your body will always react to him, even when you know you’re in the wrong— when you know you should be apologizing. When you know the last thing the two of you should be doing right now is fucking. 

You can’t help it. Your body will always call for him, always yearn for him, sing when his fingers touch you. 

“No— No,” you finally managed to choke out, tears brimming in your eyes. 

You’re not crying because you don’t want him. Not because he’s hurting you. Not because it’s too rough. You’re crying at the realization. 

You know this is the last time. 

This will be the last time you’ll feel his cock so deep inside you— the delicious angle of it dragging up and down that sweet spot inside you that he always hits so perfectly. You know you won’t be able to feel his hands all over your body again. He won’t give you a second chance, not after this. Not after the conversation you just had. 

Despite it all, you can’t find it in you to tell him to stop. The pace he has on you is punishing, and you feel guilty for even finding some sort of pleasure in how he’s taking you. 

This will be the last time that you'll have him near you. This is the last time that he will stand your presence, to even look at you with the last remaining patience left in his body. This is the final time that you will be able to have him, in any sort of way. He'll walk away from you. You'll be alone after this, after he's done.

You know deep down he would stop if you told him to. He would never disrespect you like that. No matter how angry or hurt he is, he would never do anything to hurt you. You saw it in his eyes before he took your clothes off— the chance to back out. You were the one to remove the first article of fabric, to give him the outlet that he was craving for. 

“No?” he echoed, sarcasm dripping in his voice. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Your fingers curl around the pillow and sheets beneath you for purchase— something to hold onto. He’s fucking into you so deep, barely leaving the tip of his cock in before sinking all the way back in without any hesitation. There’s no break.

Bucky rarely had you on your stomach. It’s his least favorite position, he said. He despised the fact he couldn’t see your face. He wanted to see every single emotion of pleasure he brought to you. Bucky hated that you were easily able to hide every single moan and whimper when he took you from behind.

There’s no connection, he told you one night as you laid in his arms. He whispered it to you like it was a secret as he ran his hands through your hair. He liked holding you against him, enjoyed the fact he could have easy access to your lips, and lock eyes with you. 

Yet, he put you like this from the beginning. 

Bucky was radiating an intense amount of heat, but you had never felt so cold. You were freezing in this room, even though you were both panting and sweating against each other. 

Your heart was shattering with each thrust of his hips. You’re craving him. Some sort of intimacy. You want him to hold you, even though you know you messed up. Just something for you to hold onto for the night before he disappears forever.

You know he’s close to the edge. You know his tells like the back of your hand. His thrusts are getting messier. Less rhythmic. His breathing is growing shallower, moans are becoming lower. There’s a slight tremble in his body against yours every time he connects with you, and his fingers are digging into your flesh to keep you in place right where he wants you. 

You weakly try pushing yourself on your elbows, tears finally slipping down your face. Tears that you weren’t brave enough to let fall during your conversation earlier. Tears that you knew would take forever to dry up when he finally left you.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your voice coming out broken and raw, “Bucky— Kiss, please—“

A vibranium hand is roughly tangled in your short hair, shoving your head back into the pillows underneath you.

“Shut the fuck up,” he moaned, hips stuttering. 

You feel the familiar warmth of his release coat your walls in thick spurts. Bucky’s body shudders behind you, but he doesn’t blanket you like he usually does after he cums. No— he forces himself to pull out of you, leaving you cold, empty, used. 

Your heart is still racing as you slowly push yourself up. You can feel the remnants of him leaking out of you as you listen to the rustling sound of Bucky beginning to dress himself. 

“You don’t get to cry now,” Bucky muttered.

You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth to stop yourself from making any noise. You turn your head to look at him, watching him pull his pants over his hips. His back is turned to you. You can see his face through the vanity. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, a breath escaping your lips. “Please. I’m sorry—“

“You’re sorry because you were caught,” he cut you off, looking at you through the mirror. “Not because you actually regret anything.”

“Buck, please. Just hear me out,” you pleaded. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” he hissed at you, roughly grabbing his jacket from where it was discarded on the edge of the bed. “I don’t ever want to see your fucking face again, do you hear me? You disgust me.”

Your lips parted, silent tears dripping down and staining the bed sheets beneath you. You can’t breathe. You can only watch him as he moves towards the door to your bedroom. 

“Do you mean that?” you manage to force out as his hand touches the door knob. Your voice cracked, thick with emotion.

Bucky hesitates, for just a moment. He still hadn’t turned to face you. You watched as his shoulders square off, his body becoming guarded against you. . 

“I meant what I said earlier. You’re no better than H.Y.D.R.A..”

You’re left on your bed, naked, alone, with silent tears streaming down your face. Your body is cold, even though he was just here with you moments ago. Your ears are still ringing with the echoing sound of the front door of the apartment slamming shut with his final exit. 

・・・・・ Wakanda; 2016–2018

The room is below freezing. As a breath escapes your lips, you can see a cloud form before your face. You shook your head in disapproval, rubbing your arms as you went to turn up the thermostat. 

“Bucky?” you called out, watching the numbers hit a comfortable 73 degrees in the room. “Did you eat all your food? Was it enough? Do you want more?”

As per usual, the soldier doesn’t answer you. You always try anyway– you hope that the day will come that he’ll talk to you. You let out a sigh as you move throughout the room. He’s not at the table, but neither is his plate. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Usually, you have to go towards him and badger him to try to eat a little bit more. You have to tell him that it’s okay to eat. He barely eats as it is, and you’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t think it’s okay to eat or if he’s trying to hoard the food for another day.

Your eyes fall on him in the corner of the room. He’s purposely making himself look smaller as he picks at pieces of the food in front of him. Yet, you see he’s not even touching the walls with his body. Like he’s almost afraid to take space.

You take a few steps, experimental. His eyes flicker to you, and you stop in your place.

“You know you can eat at the table, right?” you asked, voice soft.

He gives you one single nod. 

“You don’t want to?” you guessed. 

There’s no gesture of a response this time, but you can assume his answer from his silence. You sighed once more, and moved again. You tried to ignore the way his body stiffened as you came closer to him– a stranger– and took a seat beside him, back pressed against the wall, but there was enough space between the two of you so he could still breathe.

You picked up the least appetizing food on the plate, the small loaf of bread, and broke it in half.

“By the time I finish eating my half, you better be finished eating your food otherwise I’m telling Steve and Sam to come back early from their mission in Osaka to yell at you,” you warned him, putting the other portion of the bread down on the plate. 

You keep your eyes off of him, giving him the privacy he may or may not need to eat his lunch. You take small nibbles on your bread, eating slowly on purpose. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him finally move. He takes bigger bites than you. 

“Why aren’t you in Osaka?” he spoke. 

You’re shocked, but you try not to let it show. You give Bucky a smile, then gesture towards your body.

“I’m still injured from Berlin. King T'Challa did a big number on me when I tried to stop him from getting to the Quinjet, remember? Stevie won’t let me be deployed right now. Besides, I don't think our gracious King would let me leave Wakanda until I was fully healed anyways.”

“You’ve worked with Steve for a while?” Bucky asked. He sounded hesitant. Almost afraid of you. It made sense. You were a stranger to him, yet Steve dropped you off to take care of him without any explanation.

"I rehabbed Steve," you shrugged. "When he came out of the ice, I brought him up to speed with the new world around him. I was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, not an Avenger, but S.H.I.E.L.D. went to shit so I just... did some odd jobs for a bit. Steve asked me for help when the Avengers went to shit… and since I’m on the run for helping him, and have nothing better to do, I figured I might as well rehab you, too."

“Why?”

You turned your head to look at him, finding that he’s already looking at you. You give him a smile, leaning your head back against the wall.

“I was given a second chance in life,” you tell him. “You deserve one, too. And a third. And a fourth. I’ll give you as many chances as you need, so don’t stress out too much, Buck. Life is good. When you’re well, I’ll take you to my favorite bakery in New York.”

Bucky’s looking at you with confusion in his eyes. There’s a mixture of disbelief and distrust as well, but you don’t blame him. Steve gave you the full rundown on Bucky’s entire past. There’s nothing that you don’t know about the man.

You know every detail. The nitty, gritty, gory details that you know Bucky wouldn't tell you himself. You read the files yourself. Steve gave you the option to back out, and he said there would be no judgement if you thought you wouldn't be able to handle the amount of trauma that Bucky had.

You gave Steve a smile, and said that Bucky would be in good hands, and Steve could do what he needed out in the world.

You stay by Bucky's side the entire time, giving him the space that he silently requests for. You don't push when he pulls away from you. You don't question where he stops answering. You simply give him the options that he never had before.

And it seems to confuse him all the more.

“Why do you try so hard for me?” Bucky asked again. A longer, fuller sentence this time, but he was still asking the same thing he did before. 

You were sitting in his room. It wasn’t a mealtime. You were here of your own volition, with your computer in your lap. You were doing some background work for Steve and Sam, feeding them information while they were on the field. 

Bucky was watching you from his place on the ground. He still wasn’t comfortable enough to use his bed— so you made him a cot on the floor. Just a simple spread of two blankets, and one pillow. He started using it after two weeks. 

You lowered your laptop screen, looking at him. 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” you asked, flipping the script on him.

You watched as his face contorted with surprise. Bucky’s lips parted, eyebrows furrowing. His mouth closed as he took in a deep breath, and swallowed thickly. 

“I’m not a good person,” he said, his voice thick. 

“Neither am I,” you replied, smiling at him. “I think the only good person amongst us is Steve. Sam, too. But that’s a bit of a debatable fact.”

Bucky’s lip twitched slightly in what almost became a smile, and you mentally celebrated the improvement. The flicker of new emotion, even if it was subtle and brief. 

“I’m sure I’ve done worse than you,” he said after a few moments, looking down at his hand. He clenched his fist opened and closed, and you were sure he was reliving some sort of memory or nightmare in the few seconds that passed between you two.

You shrugged. “It’s all relative. I’ve committed horrors that some people will never be able to forgive. That I won’t be able to forgive myself for. But that doesn’t mean others can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stayed silent for the rest of the day, and you’re sure he’s thinking about your words until late in the night.

The next morning, you exit your room to find him standing in your hall. He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you as you go on your early morning walk.

From there, the two of you spend more time together. Bucky started to seek you out on his own, looking for you when you don’t come to him first. 

In the beginning,  your time together is spent in silence. 

Your walks turn into full on hikes with the healing soldier. The only noise between you two is the nature of the native animals of Wakanda. You two sat together on cliffs, looking over the city as you would eat breakfast that you had stolen from the kitchen before you left on your walk. You both keep walking through the plains without any sort of plan or route— and you often get lost. 

When it’s time to head back to the palace, it’s Bucky that takes you by the hand and leads you towards the right path. 

Bucky started to eat meals with you at the table. Not just snacking, but full meals. The first time he asked you if there was more food in the kitchens, you jumped to your feet, and ran down the hall with tears in your eyes. 

You ate seconds with him, silent tears streaming down your face. Bucky let out the first laugh you’d ever heard from him during that meal. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!” you sniffled, wiping away your tears quickly. 

Bucky would watch you train with the Dora Milaje once Shuri cleared you of your injury. He watched you get your ass handed to you multiple times over as you tried to get your footing against these warriors, raising an eyebrow at you when you returned to him with bruises and scrapes. 

“Don’t laugh,” you muttered as he handed you an ice pack. 

“Well, they’re not holding back on you, and the worst you’re getting is a bruise,” he said.

“Why do you sound impressed? Are you messing with me right now?” you accused, digging your fingers into a developing knot in your shoulder. 

“I am impressed,” he told you, making you stop and look at him with suspicion. “I didn’t really see you fight in Berlin. I understand why Steve asked you for help.”

Bucky would give you pointers with just the two of you alone. Even with just one arm, Bucky was a force to be reckoned with. He was itching to move, and he was more than happy to help you out. 

There weren't many places where you needed help, he said. You were simply out of practice from the injuries you sustained. You also had small tells that he noticed— things that you were shocked he caught onto. Bucky taught you how to fix those tells so no one would be able to use them against you again. Your sparring matches with the Dora Milaje got longer, harder— and you gained their respect almost overnight thanks to Bucky.

You still couldn’t believe Bucky’s sharp eyes when it came to your movements. The last person who noticed your weaknesses was your sister, who studied your moves like her life depended on it. 

Because it did. For her, at least. 

The first time you left on a mission, you didn’t tell Bucky. It slipped your mind. Steve came into your room in the middle of the night, waking you up. You didn’t even know he returned, but he and Sam needed you. You barely had a chance to brush your teeth before you were shoving your body into your gear, meeting them at the launchpads to leave. 

You received a high pitched static through your earpiece barely an hour on the field. You almost thought the mission was compromised, and all three of you were royally fucked. Well, you were compromised. You were just lucky it wasn’t anyone that wanted to harm you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving,” he said, voice distorted slightly from wherever he had hijacked the frequency from. 

“Bucky?! What the hell—“

“Why didn’t you say you were leaving?” he cut you off. 

“Why are you on my channel right now?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low and avoid raising attention to yourselves. 

“When will you be back?” 

You paused. Even through the distortion, you could hear it. The vulnerability thick in his voice. 

“Four days,” you answered. 

“I’ll wait three.”

The static finally cleared the comms, and Steve and Sam raised an eyebrow at you. They all heard it. You were in as much disbelief as they were. 

When you returned in two and a half days, you brought a digital calendar for his room. You started marking down your mission dates the second you heard you would be out, and would update it remotely if something ever changed. You didn’t want Bucky to panic on you again.

You watched as Wakanda healed Bucky in a way that you didn’t know was possible. Two years in this place brought peace to a man who knew seventy years of war. 

You were able to see as a smile would slowly grow on his face, as he began to talk more on his own. As the title of White Wolf was bestowed upon him by the Wakandans.

You enjoyed festivals with Bucky many times over. You dragged him down the streets of Wakanda, the two of you wide eyed and completely innocent to the culture around you. Both of you would dress in cultural garb, gifted to you by Shuri and T'Challa so you would blend in with the crowds around you. You would stay out late into the night, sometimes until the sun rose into the next day.

You would share different foods together. By this point, the locals all knew the two of you. They would give you discounts upon discounts for foods and different items of wares, or forego charging you all together. They would joke for you to tell the King about their shops in exchange for their services.

Bucky would watch as you would get your hair braided by the local girls in the village during these festivals, sitting beside you as flowers were woven into your hair. 

“It’s a shame,” he murmured, touching your hair as you walked away from the girls. 

“What is?” you asked, hands clasped behind your back.

“Your hair would be prettier like this if it was longer,” he told you, his hand dropping to his side. 

You paused, trying to push away the pounding feeling in your chest. You looked away from him— ignoring the look of contentment and peace on his features. He looked so happy at that moment. 

“I cut it for missions,” you murmured. 

“That’s why it’s a shame,” he said, nodding. “You’d look nice with longer hair.”

From that point, Bucky started picking flowers during your morning walks together. He would present them to you, and you would carry them with you. 

You don't remember when it happened, but Bucky stopped handing you flowers. He began to put them directly into your hair with a small smile on his face. If there was another flower that caught his eye during your hike, he would add it to your hair. If any of the flowers began to slip, he would stop you and adjust them before you both continued onwards. 

You had an entire drawer of dried flowers saved from your walks together. Preserved in time, each one carrying more emotion than the other. Each flower contained a different memory of him. 

A memory of not just someone you were helping out because Steve asked you to, but someone you considered as your friend. Someone that relied on you for guidance and support. Someone that you turned to for assistance when you couldn’t ask Ayo for help. Someone that you went to because you simply felt like it. Someone you wanted to spend time with because you enjoyed his presence. 

Someone that you felt guilty for falling in love with. 

Bucky was a man that was healing. 

Falling in love with him now— taking advantage of him at his most vulnerable would be fucking shameful of you. You wouldn’t let your emotions show, you wouldn’t let him know. You didn’t want to cloud his judgement as he was finally getting a grasp on who he was as a person, as he was finally gaining autonomy over himself. 

You hid your heart under your sleeve, continuing to spend your days with him with chains and locks tightly guarding the feelings that you desperately wanted to let free. You wouldn’t allow them to come out. 

Not when Bucky finally knew peace, not when he finally felt okay with himself. You wouldn’t throw a curveball in his direction, and betray him. You wanted him to view you as someone safe, someone he could trust. You didn’t want him to think you expected anything from him.

If the timing was right, if he had ever expressed interest on his own— maybe. Just maybe, you would allow yourself to melt into his embrace. Only if he made the move first, if he decided that he wanted it. Wanted you. 

You never got the chance to find out. 

The Outrider soldier you were fighting with had just vanished into nothing before you. Dread filled your stomach, and you turned to sprint across the battlefield. You needed to be sure. Terror was clawing at your every sense.

You ignored the deep gash in your torso, white, hot pain burning through your body. It didn’t matter right now. Bucky met your gaze. 

Bucky, who was disintegrating before your eyes. Bucky, who was staring at you with wide eyes. You could feel everything. You saw the panic on his face, the fear. 

Then, he was gone. 

Steve wrapped his arms around you before you could fall to your knees at Bucky’s ashes, his body shaking as if he was afraid that you would disappear next. 

You both sat there, trembling. Hearts racing, the two of you watched as dust began to float around you in the wind. 

・・・・・ Present, 2027

“Wake up!” Yelena hissed at you, hitting your leg with her foot. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as your face twisted with discomfort. Your head was pounding. Not just from the explosion, but from everything that came before that. The guards that filtered through the vault. Having to climb up an elevator shaft with strangers that you had attempted to kill moments prior. The sonic cannon that assaulted your ears. The impending doom of almost being incinerated. The strange battle between assassins and soldiers that had varying targets.

You forced your eyes open, momentarily discombobulated as you took in the scene around you. Your hands shoved into the cement beneath you before you took a sitting position. Your vision steadied after a few moments, and you froze. 

You looked down at yourself, then at the others. The rope that had been used to ‘tie’ you up was so loose that you could just slip out of it. The others were tied together tightly, wrists bound. Alexei was even secured with a metal pipe. 

“Bucky, do you really think putting a piece of string around her body was really enough?” John sarcastically asked.

Suddenly, you remembered what even put you in this position in the first place. 

He blew up your fucking get away car.

You don’t look at him, keeping your head down. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, watching you. Waiting to see what you’ll do or say. You won’t do a single thing– not to him, at least. You owe him that much.

“They are both Avengers, that is why! He gives her the respect she is due!” Alexei boomed. 

Your eyes snap at the super soldier, and you give him a single warning look. You shake your head once. He doesn’t seem to understand.

“You fought together during what seemed to be the end of the world, yes? You, especially! With my little Natasha! I saw you on the news a few times.”

“I wasn’t– I’m not an Avenger. Never was,” you grunted.

“Can we talk about something else?” Yelena cut him off. “Like the fact that we need to find Bob?”

You let the others do the speaking, trying to calm down your thundering heart. You couldn’t hear their words. It was being filtered out, muffled by the sound of erratic beating between your ears as you kept your eyes trained on your feet. Even staring at the ground was difficult. Your vision was getting shaky.

When was the last time you were in the same room as Bucky? When was the last time he was this close to you? It had been almost five years at this point, you think. Four years and ten months if you were to be precise. 

Bucky warned you– told you to stay out of his line of sight. Is that why he blew up the fucking limo with the people that you just gained a kinship with?

It was the only reason why you ended up working for Fontaine as one of her fucking agents, doing her dirty work– doing what you did best and getting paid for it. You were a machine for these past handful of years. The perfect soldier, just as you were raised to be. You were certain your parents were singing your praises from the seventh circle in hell. 

Best of all, you could stay out of the light. Just as Bucky told you to do. Out of the light, where he was. Where he was meant to be— just like you always told him he should be. 

This was supposed to be your last mission. You found some cabin in the woods in Oregon that you were going to move to. Remote, out of the way. Something that reminded you of Wakanda without the people and the culture. You had saved enough money, lived frugally enough to be able to live comfortably for the rest of your days. You worked out a plan with Val that if she needed you, you could be pulled back onto the field every once in a while for more expensive hit missions again.

You can only follow everyone else numbly when they start shifting towards the jet that Bucky had brought, and you distinctly hear that you’re heading back to New York. 

In the jet, everyone’s flittering about. 

Alexei’s messing with tech that he’s in awe about seeing, Yelena is whacking his hands away and telling him not to focus before going back to Bucky to help him navigate. 

Walker is going through the rations, muttering about being starving while Ava looks at him with disgust when he offers her some food. She settles for a med kit, deciding to take care of her scrapes and cuts instead. 

You weren’t even tied up, but the walls were closing in on you. Your skin didn’t feel like your own, and your gear was beginning to melt into your body in a way that you couldn’t claw off fast enough. Your heart was outside of your body, and your lungs were in a different continent. 

You clenched your fists, trying to ground yourself as your fingernails dug crescent shaped indents into your palm, but it was to no avail. Your hands weren’t your own. You weren’t seeing through your own eyes. Your body wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t stop the encroaching feeling of helplessness that you desperately tried to pretend wasn’t there.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up, seeing Ava in front you.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed at you.

Vaguely, you noticed everyone was already moving outside– and you forced yourself to suck in a breath of air. You could only give her a small nod before moving your weight onto your feet, following her out the jet and towards the tarmac. You didn’t even realize the jet had touched the ground. 

You’re moving to board the back with Ava when Alexei rounds the corner, grinning at you.

“Avengers should catch up!” he said, a hand coming down to your shoulder, pushing you to the carriage. “It is nice to talk with an old buddy!”

“What?” you breathed. “No, Alexei, it’s fine. You’ll be more comfortable sitting up there–”

“Go, sit with your friend!” he exclaimed happily, shoving you to the front. “I will sit back here with my daughter and her friends!”

You barely had any time to protest before Ava closed the doors to the back of the truck, locked it, and phased into the back. You stood out there, the vehicle’s engine coming to life. 

You have no choice. There’s a mission that needs to be done, and one hour of discomfort isn’t a reasonable explanation to put lives in danger. 

You pull open the door, sliding into the seat beside him. Once you’re situated, Bucky finally takes off down the road towards New York. 

You keep your gaze trained out your window, elbow against the door as you cover your mouth and nose with your hand.  You’re trying not to breathe so loud, in fear that he’ll hear you. Hell, you’re not trying to breathe at all. There’s a high chance that he’ll throw you out of a moving vehicle. Blow this truck up, too, if you’re really unlucky. 

You force your body to sit still, even though all you want to do is bounce your leg up and down anxiously. Under your gear, your skin is prickled with goosebumps. You’re still trying to get your body back. It still doesn’t feel like yours. It’s probably left in the vault, incinerated with the rest of Val’s shit. 

Bucky smelled exactly the same as you remembered. Even with you trying not to breathe, even with your palm covering your nose, you can smell him. 

In this enclosed carriage, with the AC running, you were surrounded by the scent of Bucky. The familiar smell of cedarwood mixed with honeyed soap and a hint of coffee. There’s the extra layer of leather and metal that he always carries around with him that you adore, and the underlying nostalgic scent of his natural skin– the heady scent of musk and salty sweat after the theatrics he had pulled on the road hours ago.

Gunpowder clings onto him faintly, and you can feel heat softly radiating from his body– the vibranium arm attached to his left side is still cooling down. It takes longer on hotter days like this. You wonder when the last time he calibrated it, or if he even remembered to get that done. He would always forget. You used to do it for him.

There’s one smell that’s missing.

The scent of you on his skin.

You closed your eyes, pushing the revelation far away from your mind. Your eyes are beginning to sting with unshed tears that you thought had long been cried away. You didn’t think being close to him like this would have this kind of effect on you again.

“Your hair is longer.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your eyebrows furrowing. You slowly turn your head to look at him. To really look at him.

You’ve seen him on the news. On your phone, in articles. You would smile to yourself before moving on with your day, happy that he seemed to find his place in the world. But right now— he looked miserable.

The years had seemed to take a toll on him. There were lines on his face that weren’t there before. Slight bags under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t slept well in a while. His skin was duller, less life to them. 

You wonder briefly if it’s because of dealing with the government in the way he is. Politics aren’t an easy feat, but he’s Bucky. You don’t doubt that he’s doing well, that he can manage somehow. He was always the better one between the two of you. 

Bucky’s hair was a bit messy, but you would give him the benefit of the doubt, and say it was from the fact he just rode in on a motorcycle and took down several military vehicles by himself. The dark brown locks are longer, too. Not short, like the way you had cut them in your bathroom in Brooklyn after Steve left. 

How he trusted you with scissors close to his face and neck, and closed his eyes while you carefully took care of him. You even shaved down his beard, and he had stubble for a while. It had all grown out now. 

Yet, Bucky was more handsome than you could recall. 

The years of absence had only made your heart grow fonder for him. You wanted nothing more than to smooth the line between his eyebrows. You wanted to slap a face mask on his face, dose him with melatonin, and ask him why the hell he hadn’t been sleeping. You want to wrap him up with blankets and play with his hair, run your fingers against his scalp, and cradle his face in your hands as you hold him close. 

You don’t tell him that. You don’t have any right to. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t cut it,” is what you said instead.

A smile cracked onto his lips, and a small chuckle rumbled through his body. “You don’t say?”

You take in a breath so slow it doesn’t shake, and return your eyes back to your window. You don’t trust yourself to keep looking at him. Your tears might fall if you do. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and cleared your throat softly. 

“You look good,” Bucky said after a few more moments, breaking the silence once again.

“I was just in a car that got blown up, so I don’t really believe that,” you muttered, fighting the smile that threatened to creep up on your face. 

“I didn’t know you were in there,” he said, almost sounding defensive. 

“If you did, would you have used that disc grenade?” you murmured. 

“Of course not,” he replied immediately. 

You paused, confusion settling deep into your bones. Why not? This man was supposed to hate you. He made that clear when he walked away from you. The words were caught on your throat, a million scenarios racing through your mind as you tried to pick apart your last conversation. You couldn’t make sense of him. 

“I didn’t know you worked for Val,” he said, changing the topic. Then, a deep sigh escaped from his lips. “Well, I didn’t know where you went at all. No one did.”

“You told me to get lost,” you reminded him, your voice so soft you were certain a normal person wouldn’t have been able to hear you. But he wasn’t normal. He was your Bucky, and he was always able to pick up every single shift in your mood. 

“I didn’t—“ he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. “I was mad. I didn’t mean it.”

You’re numb. Your chest hurt. Your sternum was caving in on itself, you think. It had to be. Or your head was finally experiencing some sort of tumor pressing on your brain, and this was your last hallucination before you died.

Bucky wouldn’t say these words to you. There was no reality that you would exist in where he would even tolerate speaking to you again, let alone admit that he took back the words he spat in your face with pure malice. 

“That’s not what you said when you walked away,” you managed to force out. 

“I know what I said.” The grip Bucky had on the steering wheel tightened at the same time his jaw clenched. 

Heavy silence sits like a wall between the two of you. You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say. He continues to drive, not another word leaving his lips. The two of you listen to the muffle conversation from the group in the back, listening to them bond over the weapons they carry on their persons. 

You lean your head against the headrest, closing your eyes tight. You forced air to enter and exit your lungs. 

One more mission. Just one more, and you can leave. Maybe Oregon would be too local— Bucky’s reach would be able to grab you from there. You’ll leave the country as a whole. 

Bucky’s eyes fell on everyone in the attic, heart erratic in his chest. His eyebrows furrowed, taking a quick headcount. He barely whispered out your name, a bit breathless from having to fight his way out to even get to Bob’s room. 

“Where is she?” he asked, everyone turning to him. They’re all still trying to process their own horrors. 

“I— I haven’t seen her yet,” Walker stuttered, still disoriented.

“She’s here?” Bob asked, surprise all over his features. 

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, turning back towards the mirror that he came from, ignoring the shouts from the group he left behind. “Just wait there!”

Bucky raced back through his rooms, trying to find an entrance towards yours. He ignored his horrors— he’d already made his peace and settled with himself. He knew you still struggled. 

Back in Wakanda, when he finally managed to find his voice, he’d asked you why you spent so much time helping him. You told him that there was no one there to help you. Over time, he learned. 

You opened up to him about your militaristic freak of a family back in Wakanda. You told him about how you were raised in a camp, not a home. 

You grew up with drills that your parents put you through from the second you could walk. You had a gun in your hand the moment your hands were strong enough to grip the metal. 

You were the middle child of three, and the three of you were raised to see each other as competition. You fought each other daily. You were tested and tortured. Whoever was deemed the winner of the day was spared the punishment of your parents. The two losers would be subjected to horrors that you couldn’t even repeat to Bucky. He never asked you to elaborate. 

One day, without warning, your parents dropped you all in the middle of the forest. Another training exercise, you all thought. You were wrong. 

Only one would survive this test— this sick and twisted game. You never told Bucky the details of how you came out the winner, of how everything went down. He knew the aftermath. 

How you killed your own parents out of revenge, grief, anger— and how they both praised you for it. They told you you were perfect. You were the best soldier they raised— that this was the outcome they wanted. That their death was exactly what they planned for. You fell right into their trap without knowing it. 

Bucky finally reached the first room, eyes focused on the woods. He would get the backstory today, it seemed. His eyes fell on you.

You were younger. Your hair was longer than it was right now, braided back into two and reaching down to your hips. You were dressed in camo, face painted to blend in with the woods. You had a sniper rifle strapped to your shoulder, and a pistol in your hand. Your jaw was clenched tight, your breaths slow and even. 

Another dead body lay right beside you— your older brother’s body. He just tried killing your little sister by stabbing her to death with his brute strength. You shot him clean in the head. His eyes were still wide open, his blood soaking into the dirt of the forest beneath him.

You saved your little sister from him, but for what? You two were in a standoff. Both of you, guns drawn, pointed at each other. All for a fucking game. A hunt. All because your parents pit you together because you had the misfortune of being born into this kind of family.

Your little sister was the spitting image of you. Her cheeks were slightly fuller, eyes a bit rounder. She looked a little bit more innocent. 

Her hand was shaking. Her breaths were a bit more shallow than yours. There was a hesitant look in her eyes, and you saw it. You saw the way your sister lowered her gun, just slightly. 

“I can’t do it,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face and ruining the camouflage paint. Quickly, you shifted your gun to point at your own temple.

Bucky watched as your sister’s eye’s filled with pure panic, fear— and her hand shifted slightly. She raised her gun once more. Her trajectory changed, and two gunshots filled the forest. 

One, to shoot your gun out of your hand. The second, to shoot herself. 

Grief immediately filled your features as a scream ripped through your throat. Birds were disrupted from their hiding places in the trees, rustling out of the leaves and taking to the sky. 

Her body dropped to the forest floor as you rushed to grab her, pressing your hand to her wound as you cried. You were trying to stop the bleeding, even though you knew nothing you did would work. You knew she was dying in your arms.

“No, no, no, no!” you kept repeating, taking the pack off your back to try and find something to help her. 

Your sister grabbed your hands with the last of her strength, stopping you. You both knew your attempts were useless. You both studied the anatomy of the body— she knew exactly where she shot was fatal.

“It’s okay,” she forced out, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you babbled to her, cradling her face. “I’m so sorry— I’m sorry—“

“I love you,” she croaked, giving you a smile. 

You only sobbed louder, watching the light die out of her eyes. You collapsed over her body, trembling, and holding her tight against you until her blood stained your bones and mixed into your own. 

And the scene replayed. 

Bucky moved into the next room. He paused— he recognized this room. This was Steve’s apartment. He went through Steve’s things after the last battle, after Steve made his choice. 

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned. 

“I’m just saying, doll,” Steve said, letting you in first before he followed in behind you, “the movie was good. You’re just not a hopeless romantic.”

“I am a hopeless romantic,” you fired back, taking your shoes off and putting them on the rack. “It just wasn’t realistic. She chose a broke man for what, Steve? Made no sense.”

“She chose the one she loved, baby,” Steve corrected. 

“And he’s broke,” you replied. 

Steve sighed, shaking his head. Still, he had a smile on his face as he watched you. There was pure love in his eyes for you.

You had a bouquet of flowers in your hand that Steve took from you as you shrugged your jacket off. You smiled at him, grateful. When you took the flowers back, you stepped up on your toes to press a kiss onto his lips.

Steve’s hand came around the small of your back, holding you tight against him. Your free hand came around to hold the side of his neck, stabilizing yourself against him. There were smiles on both of your faces. When you parted, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hummed in happiness. 

Bucky tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. 

You moved towards the kitchen, looking for a vase as Steve turned on the lights of your shared apartment. A normal night for the two of you. You arranged the flowers beautifully, looking happy with yourself as you placed them at the center of the dining table.

Bucky was momentarily confused. It looked normal enough. What was so shameful about this night? The two of you looked happy. You both got ready for the night, changed into pajamas, and met back onto the couch.

You were cuddled up against his side as he watched TV, scrolling through your phone. His arm was around you, rubbing circles into your hip. 

“You really think you’re a hopeless romantic?” Steve suddenly asked you.

“Why are you bringing this up again?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice. You shifted your head to look up at him. 

“I mean… I just don’t see it,” he said softly. “I’m not saying you’re not romantic. I know you love me, but… I can’t help but feel—“

“Steve,” you cut him off, sitting up. His arm slid off of you and he turned to look you in the eyes. “Are we talking about this again? Seriously?”

“We never even really talked about it,” he argued, his voice a bit weak. He knew you were getting upset. “You always dodge the topic. You don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down to give him your full attention. “I don’t want to argue about what if’s with my boyfriend on our third year anniversary!”

“You don’t even cut your hair anymore,” he said. “Natasha told me that you drunkenly confessed to her one time that you don’t want to cut your hair because he once told you he wanted to see your hair long—“

“Steve, didn’t you hear what I just said to you? I don’t want to argue with you on our anniversary!” you stressed, almost begging him. “Can you please drop it? On any other night, I will talk about this with you. Literally any other night. Just not tonight, please.”

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice hard as he ignored your pleas. “If Bucky were still here, would you still be with me? Or would you have chosen him instead?”

“Would you choose me or Peggy if you had the option?” you immediately demanded from him.

Steve’s eyes widened. Your apartment was silent for a few moments, save for the background noise of the television that was forgotten by the two of you. You both stared at each other. Steve in disbelief, you with stubbornness in your eyes. 

“That’s— that’s not fair,” he whispered, swallowing thickly. 

Your exterior cracked instantly. Stubbornness vanished, and your shoulders slumped. You let out a sigh, burying your face in your hands for a moment as you tried to calm yourself down. You were about to cry. 

“You’re right. It’s not,” you admitted, your voice cracking. You lowered your hands, looking him in the eyes once again. “Why don’t you understand me, Steve? I love you so much. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t love you. I do. I really do. And— and I know you love her. I have accepted that you will always love her the same way that I will always love him. I loved him in utter silence. From afar. I watched him heal and get better. I loved a broken man that never looked my way and I was okay with that. I made my peace with it. And he’s not coming back. He never fucking will, Steve. I’m trying to move on with my life. Can you stop rubbing it in my face?”

Steve’s staring at you, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He looks horrible, regret all over his face for even opening up this conversation.

You let out a shaking breath, your chest rising and falling erratically as tears fall from your eyes. You angrily wipe them away, getting up from the couch. 

Steve whispers your name, reaching to grab your wrist, to stop you— to try to comfort you. It comes out pained, but you can’t even look at him. You snatch your hand back from him, making your way to the bedroom you share with Steve, to just get away from him for a moment as more tears continue to fall.

Bucky observes Steve for just a moment, watching his friend bury his face in his hands and let out slow, deep breaths. Then, Bucky moves to follow you.

You’re sitting in front of your vanity, rifling through your drawer. A pair of scissors are in your hands after a moment of searching. You hesitate, for just a moment. Then, you grab a piece of hair, chopping it off above your shoulders as your tears stain your cheeks. 

Bucky forces his feet to walk on, mind racing as he breaks a window into the next room. He knows this place. He instantly recognizes the faint smell of vanilla and flowers. 

His eyes fall onto the glass case of pressed Wakandan flowers that are on the wall, proudly on display. There’s mementos of the Avengers somewhere in your apartment. You have Steve’s art book on the coffee table. Natasha’s widow bites are on the mantle. One of Tony’s first Iron Man helmets are on the shelf. 

Your friends, people that you have loved and lost, all here with you, in your little apartment in Brooklyn. 

And you’re there. Not just the remnants of the past. You.

You’re sitting on the couch of your old Brooklyn apartment in your gear. Your lip is busted from the Sentry throwing you around in the Watchtower not too long ago. There’s a cut above your eyebrow from colliding with John too hard and hitting his gear the wrong way, and maybe a thousand other injuries that he can’t see under the thick material of your tactical gear. 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs. You look small right now, eyes trained on the movement before you. Unable to tear your gaze away, stuck in the shame and regret of your past. 

And he knows exactly what this night is. 

Bucky doesn’t make a sound as he goes to your side. The couch dips as he takes a seat beside you, eyes on the side of your face. You don’t acknowledge him, don’t even give him the time of day. His chest hurts, but he can’t blame you. 

The stage resets. 

Bucky’s opening your door with a key to your apartment that he’s had for a while now— you have one to his, too. It was for safety at first. Over time, it had turned into easy access to each other for your nightly escapades with each other. 

You jolted at the sudden appearance. You were at the dining table, watching videos on your phone as you ate takeout by yourself. A simple dinner for a quiet night alone. 

Bucky didn’t text you. He didn’t tell you that he was coming over. Normally, he would let you know that he was on his way. Even if the two of you didn’t end up doing anything, he would at least give you a heads up.

“Hey,” you said with a smile, turning to face him. “I thought you were hanging out with Sam tonight—“

“So you fuck me to get over my best friend? Is that it? Is that all I’m good for?”  he demanded, and your smile fell. “Answer me!”

“What?” you whispered, taken aback. “Buck, slow down—“

“You couldn’t even have the decency to tell me that you two were together?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. “I had to find out from fucking Sam?”

“How the hell did Sam know?” you asked, shocked. “Everyone who knew is—“

“Dead? Gone? Off the grid?” he cut you off, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. “Yeah. So you thought you could hide it.”

“Hang on. I wasn’t hiding anything,” you said, standing to face him fully.  

“Do you think you can just use me?” Bucky demanded, shocking you. 

Your eyes widened at the raw emotion. Your lips parted, and you reached a hand out to him. To touch his hand. To try to comfort him, to do something— anything. He smacked it away instantly, shocking you.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he growled at you, and you recoiled instantly, taking a step back.

“Bucky,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “Let’s talk. Please. There’s a misunderstanding here. I wasn’t hiding— There’s nothing to hide.”

“I was at my fucking lowest when Steve left. I thought— I thought it was the same for you. That your friend left you, too. That you were also trying to cope with the grief of losing everyone— everything.” Bucky was shaking, anger coursing through his veins. “That you got no fucking answers— but no. You were fucking me because you were mad that your boyfriend chose a woman he kissed once in the forties over you. And you know what? I don’t blame him.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. Hurt and pain were all over your features. You were trembling, too. But not from anger. You were in shock. 

“Am I disposable to you?” he whispered, your eyes widening.

“No! Of course not—“

“Worthless, then?” he cut you off, voice rising. 

“Bucky, never—“

“Because I feel pretty fucking worthless right now,” he told you, meeting your eyes. His voice was trembling, eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

You can’t speak a single word to him. Your eyes are searching all over his face, and you’re silently pleading with him to try to understand you. To remind him that he knows you. That he knows who you are and that you would never—

“You used me,” he said, swallowing thickly. 

“No,” you denied, your voice small.

“You’re no fucking better than H.Y.D.R.A.. Using my body for what you want, just to throw me away later.”

“No,” you said again, begging. “Bucky, no—“

“I’ll show you what it’s like to be used.”

Bucky grabbed you by the arm, dragging you into your bedroom. The door slammed shut a moment later, and it started all over again. 

On the couch, Bucky takes a moment to look at you. You have your chin on your knees. You’re exhausted. 

“How many times have you watched this?” Bucky finally asked you, leaning back against the couch cushions. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, and Bucky feels his heart shattering in his chest. 

He drags a hand down his face, taking a deep breath before he forces himself to his feet. He stepped in front of you, blocking your view from himself as the memory of a younger, stupider him started to blame you for shit that he couldn’t work out on his own. 

Bucky kneels down, going eye level with you. You still were looking past him, watching the last fight between the two of you.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice soft. 

“Where?”

“To save the world. Where else?” he tried joking with you.

“I’m not interested in saving the world, Bucky,” you whispered back, shaking your head. “I’m so tired.”

Bucky let out a sigh, closing his eyes for just a moment. He looks down at the floor, racking his brain for something. Anything. 

“How about the bakery we used to go to every Sunday morning?” he offered, then saw your eyes flicker towards his direction. “They have a new mocha cake flavor. I haven’t tried it yet. Have you?”

“I haven’t been there in years,” you revealed. Your fingers absentmindedly picked at your thigh holsters, just to busy yourself a little bit. One of your anxious habits. 

Bucky moved to rest his hand over yours, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. Forcing you to look at him again. 

“Really? I go there all the time,” he told you. “I sit there and drink an iced coffee and order that loaded croissant you first got me when we went together. You know— the one with the jalapeños and bacon bits.”

“… Why?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Because I miss you,” he answered, the confession leaving his lips without any hesitation. “You… You left so fast. I came back here two days later. Your apartment was already up for lease. Your number was disconnected. Your cards were turned off. It’s like you never existed.”

“I don’t get why you would care so much,” you muttered, looking away from him as you pulled your hand away.

Bucky caught it once again, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your name fell from his lips, your eyes meeting his in surprise. He said it so tenderly. So gently. With affection that he had kept guarded in a box locked up and tucked away.

“Can I get another chance, please?” he whispered, and your eyes widened slightly. Bucky wet his lips, letting out a shaking breath. “You told me that you would give me as many chances as I needed. And I fucked up badly on this night.”

“It was my fault for not telling you,” you whispered back. “You felt betrayed. I— I didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t hear you out,” he said, shaking his head. “I should’ve.”

You stared at him. Bucky watched as you searched his face for answers that you needed years ago, answers that he should have provided you with when he had the chance, when he had you in his arms but was too afraid to tell you how he felt. 

“I will repent for the rest of my life for what I said and did to you,” he promised, squeezing your hand. “This will be the last battle, I swear. If you want me to leave you alone after this, I will. But we have to go. I can’t leave you in here to watch this shit show over and over again.”

Relief surged through his body as you shifted, your feet moving to touch the ground. You stood, and Bucky led you out of your last shame room, and back towards everyone else. 

“Let me do it,” Bucky sighed, taking the antiseptic from your shaking hands. “Sit down on the bench.”

You didn’t fight him. You had no more fight left in your body. From pulling Bob out of the void, to the press monstrosity outside— you were completely spent. 

The Watchtower was a mess. Glass was everywhere, furniture was broken, but at least there was a well functioning medical bay. The entire group of you were in here, all of you licking your wounds as you all tried to make sense of the last twenty-four hours of your life. 

The stinging pain of alcohol pulled you out of your thoughts as Bucky pressed the cleaning agent into your wounds, and your eyebrow furrowed in pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine. Are… are you okay?” you asked, mustering the courage to look up at his face. 

Truth be told, his injuries had mostly cleared up by now. Just as they always had. But you’re not asking about that, and he knows you’re not.

“I’ll probably enroll into therapy again, if you want me to set you up with someone, too,” he joked. 

“I didn't even tell you everything,” you said, frowning at him. “What makes you think I’ll tell a stranger?”

“Well, I didn’t even tell my therapist everything. I was thinking of dumping everything on Sam, actually. Make it his problem,” Bucky shrugged. 

You paused, thinking it over. “Sounds like a good idea, actually. I haven’t talked to him in a while… Might be good for me to reach out.”

“You should. He asks about you, every once in a while. Asked if I’ve heard from you— even if it’s a whisper or a rumor,” Bucky said, his voice soft. “He misses you, too.”

“I didn’t exactly trust Sam to keep my location a secret after he blurted out to you that I was in a relationship with Steve,” you muttered, a scoff escaping your lips. “He knew that we were sleeping together, too. He knew that you and I were doing it because we needed an outlet after everything we lost.”

Bucky’s hands stopped, and he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Shock is all over his face. 

“He knew?” he asked, in disbelief. 

“Bucky— I knew Sam longer than I’ve known you. Of course I told him,” you frowned at him. “And then the asshole went around telling shit that wasn’t his to tell. I still don't know how he knew me and Steve were together, if I'm being honest."

“Would you have told me?” Bucky asked you, and it’s your turn to pause. 

You weigh his words carefully, taking in the look on his face. He’s not mad. Not upset with you. He’s not looking at you the same way Steve did on your anniversary. It’s not accusatory. Bucky’s curious. 

“I would’ve,” you whispered honestly, nodding. “But I didn’t think we would ever progress past just the… sleeping together. So I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I didn’t want to ruin the little of you that I managed to have. I didn’t realize that I would lose all of you in the process.”

Bucky let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. Momentarily, you believe you’ve pissed him off with your response. That you’ll get a repeat of that night in your apartment. 

You watched him carefully, your lungs stopping in your chest as you waited for his response. You wait for the explosion, for the yelling, the accusations— then, he looked at you. His eyes meet yours.

Bucky’s still not upset with you. In fact, there’s affection in his eyes that you can’t believe you’re seeing again. He looks the same way he always did when he hovered above you, murmuring praises about how good you were to him. It was the same way he looked when he held you afterwards, making sure that he didn’t hurt you during the time you spent together. 

This was the same way his eyes would light up when you came over to his apartment with food from his favorite restaurant after a particularly bad therapy session. How he sighed in delight and told you that you were the best, and how you always read his mind. 

And, without you knowing, the same way he looked at you in Wakanda as you walked ahead of him with your hair full of flowers that he picked. Flowers that he deemed were good enough to decorate your head, but still not more beautiful than you.

“Can we start over?” Bucky whispered to you, hands moving to cover yours. 

“Start over and do what?” you whispered back, trying to will your voice to stay even. 

“I think that we have a good chance to do this right. You and me,” he said, releasing a breath. “Without grief or trauma defining… us. Defining our relationship— what we are to each other.”

“If there’s no trauma or grief, then what is there?”

“Love, sweetheart. You don’t believe in love? You were pretty adamant when you told Steve you were a hopeless romantic, you know,” he said, a soft teasing tone in his voice as he squeezed your hands. 

You could only let out a laugh in response, shaking your head. You cringed, unable to stop your body from the visceral reaction. You hated that memory- hated that night. You and Steve didn't talk for two days after that fight.

“You saw that? Did you— You saw the whole thing?”

“I saw the entire thing,” he confirmed, nodding. “And I’m sorry. I… I told you that you were using me, and I didn’t even know that you loved me from the start.”

“I hid it from you,” you murmured. “That isn’t your fault.”

“Then let’s call it an oversight on both our ends,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

“Do you really think this could work?” you asked, sighing deeply. “Us?” 

“Hypothetically speaking, yes. Realistically speaking? A thousand percent. But only if you want it. Only if you want me. Only if you’ll allow me to love you in the way that I definitely do not deserve to have you.”

Just like that. 

Bucky isn’t pleading with you. There is no pressure. He had simply opened the door to his heart, and he’s standing on the other side for you to join him. 

The answer is on the tip of your tongue as you feel your eyes sting with emotion. You’ve cried so much in the past day, you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from dehydration. 

Your vision is beginning to blur from your tears as you look at him— look at his face. 

He’s patient. Watching your every move with bated breath. His gaze is gentle, as if he is anticipating and ready to forgive you for rejecting him. 

Your throat is locked up as a tear finally slips down your cheek. Bucky’s eyes never leave yours, but his hand moves to cradle your face. His thumb brushes away the wetness, clearing your face. 

And you nod. Small, subtle, but you know he sees it. He always sees it. He always sees your every move. 

Bucky’s shoulders drop, relaxed as he reaches for you, arms wrapping around you. He’s holding you to his chest, and you can hear it— the inconsistent sound of his heart beating in his chest. You can feel the anxiety in his bones as he keeps you firm in his grasp, head tucked under his chin. 

A moment later, you bring your own arms around his torso, fingers clutching onto his shirt tight. Bucky shifts, pressing a series of kisses to the top of your head. 

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to finally melt into his arms. Years of yearning and silent love has brought you here, with him. The pain is still present, but is beginning to chip away with each of his words as you listen to him whisper to you—

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll make you happy this time.”

“Thank you. I don't deserve you- but thank you.”

“I love you.”

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy

[axetivev]

~ Summary: Today is Bruce's birthday! Of course the birthday boy deserves a rest after serving Gotham. Especially a service from his beloved husband.

~ Warnings: SMUT! Minors DNI!!, Husband!Reader, Slight Fluff, riding, Top!Bruce, Bottom!Reader.

~ Words: 385

~ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR OUR OLD ASS VIGILANT! For my country's timeline, it's kinda late... but who gives a flip am I right? I hope everyone—B fans or just anyone enjoys this drabble!!

~ Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Male!reader

“B–Bruce… ah! Fuck!”

“Mhm, that’s me. M/N.”

Bruce was always a busy man. But when his birthday rolls in, you woke up early just to help Alfred breakfast in bed. The way Bruce’s face lit up seeing you wearing a red apron with the writing “Kiss the chef" and Alfred holding a birthday cake while the kids jumped, saying a big “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

He practically didn’t left a finger, everyone was helping Bruce with everything. The girls helping Bruce with cleaning manor, the boys with patrol, Alfred with cooking, and most importantly—his husband who was in charge to kept everything together. No fights in a day. The only thing Bruce had to do on his birthday was only relax. But there is something he had to do.

It’s not really what he had, but he needs. Since patrol was took over by the kids, Bruce was left in the Manor. Bored with nothing to do, Alfred was on his usual spot, reading endless amount of books. You? You were in your shared bed. Cleaning anything messy, this was a mistake.

And with that, here’s your current position; you were on top of him, his cock were balls deep inside of you as you slowly bouncing on top of Bruce. Even by that, you still able to moan so loudly. You felt your chest felt heavy after your climax you eventually lost count. Your hole was full, so full. Yet, you were still keep going, even after Bruce gave you a concerned look.

“M/N, seriously… we can stop now if you were tired, it’s fine. Really.” Bruce groaned, his hand held your waist, while the other held your hand, slowly tightened the moment his cock filled your hole.

“N–no… I’m fine, please—mgh—fuuFuck!” You paused for a moment as you felt a wave of climax crash into you as you cum on Bruce’s abdomen. You knew you should stop. But you couldn’t, Bruce was addicting, your hand tightened around his as you slowly continue.

Bruce admire it. The very view he saw. His hand gently caressing your knuckles, as the moonlight shined your rings with glory. Bruce smiled seeing your very body. He would usually saw birthdays as nothing special. But this? He loves it. He loved everything he experienced on this very day.

[kaisentine]

꒰ა ⠀ ⸺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 , 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⌗ ⸺ there isn’t anything more romantic than physical touch ! the question is : how does he like to do it? ft. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, oliver aiku general cw. couple thingz that make me go EW!, language ( do u guys want me to tag this or no ), there are separate cws for each guy, not proofread . . . gn!reader ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ) sticky note. blushing giggling crying i’m not ok . . . the parts are wayyyyyyy shorter than i intended them to be, some men’s part are wayyyyyyyyyyyy shorter than the rest though but plez enjoy! 😭 this is part of my event check it out!

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾’𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ! ♡

cw . slick back king, arlene still day dreaming about the idea of playing with her gorgalicious king’s hair

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 should be cast in a movie because he’s really good at hiding how much he really likes when you do his hair.

if you would have to pick the one thing that annoys you the most, it would be how kaiser asks ( pleads ) you to do his hair for him only for him to say he hates it in the end. it’s never a 50/50 with this man because 100 out of 100 times, he will say that he hates the way you did his hair at the very end—he literally watched you through the mirror! why now?

“can you do my hair?” he yawns, handing you a couple of rubber bands and a comb.

biggest regret of his life—he ends up in the most slick backing slick back the world has ever seen. it’s kind of a feat of how flawless you did it but, “this really sucks.” he complains with his signature disgusted look, smoothening non-existent strands poking from his head. “yeah? too late. either you take it off or you train with it.” you smile with both hands on you hip in enthusiasm.

you hold back your laughter because you’ll piss him off even more and then you’ll never hear the end of it from him—as if you weren’t already. “out of everything, you choose an outrageous slick back?” he brings his middle finger and thumb to his nose bridge in disappointment.

“you asked me to do your hair,” you shrug, standing up from your position from behind kaiser. actually, you’re quite surprised how well he looks in a bun but you’re more surprised you can even put his hair in a bun because of how . . . exotic his hairstyle is.

he huffs in annoyance at your lack of sympathy.

“well i didn’t ask for you to make it hideous.”

so why didn’t he ask you to stop when you pulled out the gel? short answer : he likes your hands in his hair. long answer : that and how comforting it is. he’s convinced your fingertips are made of magic or something because of how good they feel anywhere on his head. it’s the way you occasionally have to tug a little harsher on his hair to make it stay in place, it makes him feel alive—even though you’re “responsible”, there is no malice behind your intent.

and he just loves you way too much to stop you until it’s too late.

“so are you gonna take it out or . . ?” you ask while walking over to the drawers to put the hair items back—showing him that you aren’t going to redo his hair even if he does take it out. he swears he feels his eye twitch.

“nah.”

he’d really like to but it’s not half bad. it’s a subtle reminder to him that you care. and he loves you way too much to do that. God, someone save this man from your magical hands.

sticky note. i cryryeyycryfyecyerycyrcyrycrycyeycrycry . . . guys what the eff!1!! ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა I HAVE NEVER DONE A SLICK BACK

cw . rin and sae aren’t awkwad . . . brother things agenda, reader is shorter than sae

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓��𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 makes it very clear he’s not fond of physical touch but that’s because he views it as something intimate. that’s why he doesn’t care when it comes to you.

everyone is convinced itoshi sae hates them when they first meet him because of how he pushes them away when they get too close. but for you, ask him to do it and he’ll do it.

it was only a simple slip up when you missed him even though he was right there—“can you hug me?”. much to your surprise, he actually turned around to face you. “what did you say?” he asks in amusement to your obvious embarrassment. “nothing . . ?” you hesitate, God, you’re bad at lying—sae can just see it in your eyes. “no, say it again.” “. . . can you hug me?” and just like that, his arms are around your neck, bringing your face closer to his chest. is there steam coming out of your ears? probably. is it for a good reason? yes.

everyday, you thank whoever prayed for you that day because now, you just have to ask and he’ll give it to you. “sae, can you hold my hand?” he’ll intertwine his hand with yours with firmness. “sae, will you kiss me?” of course he will, he always will. yes, while he needs to be prompted to do so, he has no problem in fulfilling the requests. the things that he does for you is uncanny to everybody else because, y’know . . . he’ll silently kill anybody that isn’t you if they even tried.

“you guys are gross!” rin looks like he’s about to hurl at the sight of sae kissing your cheek. you feel like your face is going to turn into a stove and your ears a boiling pot. “it’s not nice to sneak up on people.” sae rolls his eyes, pulling you closer to him whilst you hide your lips with your hand in humiliation.

“. . . i just wanted to ask where you put your training bag,” rin frowns—you feel bad for making the younger sad like that. “what about knocking?” sae is giving his brother the dirty look to which the raven-haired reciprocates, wiping his frown to scrunch his nose. “i didn’t know they were going to be here!” he exclaims, pointing directly at you—you feel betrayed! is he blaming you for his misfortunes? you no longer feel bad.

well . . . when that’s resolved you tell sae “let’s stop doing that . . .” you tense your face in internal cringe.

but not even 10 minutes later—he forces your head to rest on his shoulder—without prompting.

“don’t care. you’re the only person i’m willing to do this with, don’t interrupt it.” he grumbles—because you really are the only person he’s willing to hold.

sticky note. this man is definitely not fluent in physical touch but cut him some slack, yeah? my first draft of this was him and his lingering touches on your ass LMFAOO

cw . nothing . . ?, takes place when it’s cold or smthsmth

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 ‘s actions speak louder than words, even if it’s not visible to others.

he isn’t good with his words. he isn’t good at loving. yet he still loves you.

there’s something in him that connects his view with affection to his brother—they both view as something not to be shared freely but to only be given to those who deserve it. lucky for you, rin sees you as someone who absolutely deserves it but nobody else deserves to see it.

not because he’s ashamed but because it’s supposed to be an intimate moment between partners that stays in between the two of them, that’s what he likes to think. ( oh, and the way he feels guilty for not expressing things verbally . . . )

times in the loudest of rooms where his teammates are annoying the shit out of him are times when he reaches under the table to hold your hand that’s rested on your lap. it’s obvious he’s seething by how tense his hands are.

“you good?” you whisper in the most subtle way possible. “. . .what does it look like?” he deadpans but gives you his answer after squeezing his palm impossibly closer to yours.

it’s comforting and not comforting by how unnervingly quiet he is—like he isn’t almost dead silent anyway, even with you. there’s a little voice in your head telling you that you should probably take him outside for a breather—nobody is bothering to converse with him anyway.

the air is cold and crisp outside, hitting your nostrils like a big ass truck but that isn’t on you mind. your eyes wander to rin’s red nose that probably got irritated by the cold too, then to how he subconsciously brings his collar up to try and cover half his face while his gaze is lingering off to the far distance, lastly how his hands get shoved right back into his front pockets.

“this better?” you ask, referring to the change of scenery and ambience compared to inside the building, his head nods slightly.

you smile.

and you aren’t looking at him anymore, joining him in looking in the distance. well, you and rin switch roles because now his eyes are on you and how your lips curl, only visible by the shitty lamp posts that line the darkened streets. he loves you so much he’s envious, he loves you so much he’s mad he can’t verbalize it nor is he really good at doing it physically either.

you’re really lukewarm, yet he hugs you when no one is looking—it’s feeling a lot warmer now.

sticky note. shoutout to @cup1ds-bow for this one . . . i’ll give you the biggest smooch to you celine . . . I HAD NO IDEAS FOR RIN

cw . this one is kinda gross help, biting, this stupidhead calls u babe ( blehhh ), this one is superrr short sorry

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 is . . . an interesting character. you swear there’s something wrong with him when he playfully bites you.

you’re pretty sure there’s a mental hospital 20 minutes away from his apartment . . . maybe you’ll be able to sneak him in when he’s asleep—anything to stop these bites! what started off as a cute gesture for him to show affection to you soon became something more. you thought it was cute—in the beginning—playful nibbles on your lips, toothless chomps on your shoulder and arms . . . did you even know this guy when you suddenly got surprised when they started leaving tooth marks?

one thing about shidou is that he has quite the sharp canines, it’s no surprise you yelp out in surprise when he actually has the courage ( when does he not smh ) to test how sharp they really are. no, it’s not hard enough to draw blood—that isn’t his goal, surprisingly . . .

“what the fuck?!” you jump more in shock rather than pain. his grin goes from ear to ear, almost like he’s showing off the teeth he used to bite down on your arm. “sorry babe, did that hurt?” his says in faux worry, there’s a concerning drop in his tone. if you say no, he’ll continue to do it. if you say yes, he will also continue to do it.

“just shut up.” you roll your eyes. any answer other than yes or no will also lead to a path of him still doing it anyway. you’ll never win with him.

hell yeah you were right. there’s times where he sits next to you only to grip your arm to bring to his mouth to open and clamp down, it isn’t harsh but it’s more than enough to at least leave a mark in it’s way and maybe add another shade to your skin.

it’s totally fine though when he suddenly gains a degree in medicine and kisses it better, softer lips touching his newly-made bite-mark. it’s totally fine because he’s the artist and you’re his muse. it’s totally fine when his art supplies are completely free!

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 , the most unintentionally affectionate person. he doesn’t understand the butterflies in your stomach when he clumsily ( suffocates ) cuddles you.

you’re his personal pillow. it’s cute and endearing until he’s too lazy to walk to his bed and ends up crashing on you on the damn floor.

“sei . . . we need to get up.” you whine under him as his whole weight is pushed onto you on a cold hard floor with no cushion to soften the blow. you have no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck to stop yourself from suffocating. nagi is really warm with his baggy hoodie and his way too saggy sweatpants—seriously, how does he walk in those things? the soft fabric feels ticklish on your skin. God, please wake him up before we both end up sleeping on the floor tonight.

he’s just not letting it up, it feels like he just keeps getting heavier the more time that passes—and just the more impossible it feels to convince him to get off. it’s obvious he isn’t asleep just yet because if he was, you’d probably either be actually suffocating or maybe you’d be able to slip out of his grasp—oh and he’s literally looking straight at you with his chin rested on your chest. “t’lazy.” he mumbles in protest. honestly, you could laugh at this scene—not because you like being suffocated by your boyfriend but because the way your arms are wrapped around his neck make it look like you’re cradling just his head.

“don’t you wanna be comfortable on your bed?” you ask as another attempt to bribe him. you see the way his grey eyes keep staring at you with that stupid almost-pleading look that might say ‘please don’t tell me to move.’, but you’ll say it again because you doubt this is pleasant for him—it certainly isn’t for you. “please, seishiro . . .” you whisper, finger colliding with his soft snowy hair. his lips for a small pout at your insistence. “no.” he’s firm but obviously sleepy.

there’s something wrapping around your waist—his arms are wrapping around you waist. your eyes widen at the sudden grip.

“sei . . .”

“no more convincing. you’re more comfortable than my bed.” he says like he knows you’re going to propose another offer—which you weren’t . . . you wanted to tell him that you loved him but if just accepting defeat is enough for those three words, you’ll gladly lose.

“fine.”

because in the end, he’s the only one who can make you feel this way even when you’re pissed that you will have to sleep on the floor.

sticky note. i actually finished his part first LMFAO

cw . kissing, this man is a FREAK, . . . this is really . . . i put my emotion into this HLRPPP but it’s still short

ᓭི ˖ ࣪ . 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔 loves the way your lip balm tastes or he just really likes your lips.

“can you just admit you like kissing me?”

“what? your lip balm tastes really good today.” he acts oblivious to his own actions of smooshing your cheeks together to make you kiss him . . . the only thing on your lips is an unscented and unflavored lip product—what is he tasting?

you raise an eyebrow at his words, very interesting coming from a man like oliver aiku. he views such matters as casual, treats it like it’s casual, says it’s casual but then he acts like he becomes a new man every time his lips just slightly graze yours.

when he pulls away from your face, there’s something in his eyes that say he wants—needs more but he isn’t insatiable per se because he has self-control, he isn’t that reckless, y’know? have some faith in him!

but your lips make him question whether he even has faith in himself to keep him away that long, he’d be lying if he said you weren’t killing him right now.

his lips are prolonged against yours to make up for it.

aiku swears you lace something on—in?—somewhere on your lips that just gets him addicted. your lips don’t taste like anything yet they taste like everything he’s ever wanted—anything he’s ever craved of—they taste like you and maybe you’re all he’s ever dreamed of.

tags :) : @kenyuukissme @levihanmyotp @realmyth @vellichorira @pinkicyheart ( comment to be added! )

[midnightquips]

Dangerously Close

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky & Y/N are undeniably attracted to each other. Seemingly the only way these two are getting together is with some extreme meddling.

Themes: mutual pining, teasing teammates, possessive Bucky, Thunderbolts chaos, friends-to-lovers-but-stupid about it, pining (a lot)

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex

💫 Dangerously Close Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 1: Sparks & Sandwiches

Part I

Breathing is a regular bodily function. Supposedly easy. An unconscious action. But for some reason, Bucky Barnes makes you overly aware of yours. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but when he’s lounging in the training room, built like a Greek statue, it just seems to… happen. Adding to the fact that he randomly calls you sweetheart with that stupid crooked grin, your stomach just can’t help but flutter when he’s around. 

You’re currently busy pretending to not look at him while you stretch on the mat. Whether you’re succeeding is questionable. 

Bucky is across the gym, holding a punch bag steady while John Walker lays into it like he’s got something to prove–which, frankly, he always does.

His gaze flicks towards you, just for a second. You should have looked away in embarrassment but don’t want to make it seem that you were stealing glances, so you give him a small smile instead. He reciprocates warmly.

You’re snapped out of the little moment when Yelena murmurs mid-lunge beside you, “You’re not subtle.”

“What?” you reply innocently, through cheeks burning

Yelena makes a face, “Don’t think this thing–” motioning her head between you and Bucky, “–is very unnoticeable.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re a super spy. Everything is noticeable to you. Your mind is almost making things up.”

“Yet you’re a super spy and you still can’t figure out he’s into you.” It’s Yelena’s turn to roll her eyes

“He flirts with everyone. You’ve seen him. I’m not reading into it.” 

Yelena snorts. “Sure. That’s why he lets you throw him across the mat without complaint. Totally something he does with everyone.”

Your eyes narrow. “I’m strong.”

“Yes, you are, but that’s not the point.” She pauses, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “He clearly enjoys the straddling way more than he should.”

You nearly lose your balance.

Across the room, Bucky definitely notices.

Bucky is convinced his willpower is being tested.

He’s resting against the far wall of the gym, towel slung around his neck. He watches you carefully as you move through your warm-up with Yelena. Your current position–on your knees, pushing your body forward, chest facing up–makes Bucky swallow hard. It pulls at something primal inside him.

Bucky has seen hundreds of women in gym clothes. But for some reason, you in tight black leggings and a loose tank top knotted at your waist has him on edge. Maybe it’s because he’s imagined your body too many times and every time you wear this, it confirms even more how stunning you were. He adores every inch of you, but your thighs haunt him most nights. Thick, strong and always on display in your training gear. 

He wants–no, prays to feel them wrapped around his waist. His shoulders. His face.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting the towel to cover his reaction.

“You good?” Bob Reynolds appears beside him like a blond, nosy ghost.

“Fine.”

“Mmm.” Bob’s smile is too knowing. “You keep staring like you’re writing poetry in your head.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you writing poetry in your head?”

“No.” Bucky watches you laugh at something Yelena says, a dimple flashing in your cheek. His stomach tightens.

“Because I could help you rhyme something with thighs.”

“Bob, I swear to God.”

Training always brings out the best and worst in you. You enjoy sparring. You like the burn in your muscles and learning new techniques you’ve never considered. You specifically loved the way your body can do things now that it couldn’t months ago. The real cherry on top was sparring with Bucky. 

Which is also a real dilemma. Because he’s stupid hot but also stupid skilled.

And, worst of all, he lets you win. A flattery and an insult rolled into one.

“You’re pulling your punches again,” you say, landing on your back after a takedown you know he could’ve blocked.

Bucky stands over you, offering his hand. “Maybe you’re just too good, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes but take his hand. His grip is firm, warm, and way too steady. “You know, most people don’t flirt while getting their ass handed to them.”

He helps you up slowly, like it’s an excuse to let his hand linger. “Only with you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You laugh it off, rolling your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Behind you, Yelena raises both eyebrows and mouths, Oh my god.

The compound smells like heaven that evening. 

You’re occupied in the kitchen, hair up, apron on while music is softly playing in the background. Steaks searing in the iron pan & vegetables roasting in the oven, while you quickly check on the saffron rice on the stove. 

You taste a small spoon of the rice and nod your head in approval, knowing the team would love it. Cooking grounds you. Moving through the kitchen with ease makes this place feel like home.

A hand brushes your lower back. You only know one person stealthy enough to sneak up behind you. 

“Smells good, doll.”

Bucky stands behind you, chest lightly pressed on your back as he peeks over your shoulder. He leans close enough that you feel the heat of his voice on your cheeks. Tempting you to almost lean back. 

You try not to look at him. Breezy, cool on the front. Melting inside. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He pulls back and leans on the counter beside so he has a full view of you. The short cotton dress you’re wearing makes you look more homey, inviting thoughts of domestic life into Bucky’s brain. He crosses his arms and looks at you with a small smile, “I’m always hungry for your food.” 

You try to ignore the way your heart flips. “I’m not serving you food unless you’ve showered.” 

“It was quick. Didn’t want to miss you.” He says warmly

He says it only with a hint of teasing that it almost makes you pause. Almost. “Perhaps some distance will do us some good.”

“I would say more dangerous than good.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “What does that mean?”

“Can’t be any more fonder of you than I already am.” 

It doesn’t mean anything. A simple reminder to yourself, before you turn back to the shelf beside the stove, trying to grab a spice from the top. 

Bucky doesn’t even ask, just simply takes his place behind you once more, hand bracing your waist as he easily grabs the jar from above your head. He keeps his hand on your waist while pushing the spice into your hand. 

“Here,” he says softly, voice a little lower

You take it almost reluctantly. Not realizing you’d been holding your breath. This man was definitely determined to kill you. 

You’re snapped into returning to the cooking when he finally releases you. He decides to give you space by sitting at the kitchen island, but contrary to what you claimed earlier, you’re not quite sure the distance was really doing any good in this situation.

Dinner is chaos in the best way. 

Alexei continuously praises your steak, declaring it “better than any American restaurant” while John asks for seconds before finishing his first plate. Yelena is busy asking why you never opened your own place, which she does every time. Bob makes a dad-joke about the saffron being “worth its weight in gold,” and Ava offers to do dishes as she requests you make paella again next week.

Bucky doesn’t say much, only looks at you the whole time. 

He finally speaks when dinner has wrapped up. He asks if you want help in the kitchen. You don’t see it but Yelena has signaled the team to leave when she overhears this. John smirks at the meddling. 

You stand side by side at the sink. Bucky washing the dishes and you drying it. 

“Thanks for cooking. I would say it’s delicious, but I think having no leftover already signals that” he says.

You smile. “It’s nothing. I like feeding you guys.”

“You don’t have to do it all the time.”

“I want to. Feeding people is... comforting.” You pause, then tease, “Unless you’re offering to cook next time.”

“Only if you want me to burn pasta and set off the fire alarm.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

He likes the way your eyes light up when you laugh. He’s so gone.

There’s a bit of pause when you decide to ask, “Bucky, you date a lot?”

Bucky blinks in surprise, “What?”

You shrug, focusing on piling the plates back in the cabinet. “Just curious. You seem like... the type who does well. You know.”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Why do you think that?”

“You flirt with everyone. You’ve got the arms. The eyes. The mysterious brooding past.”

His tone shifts, softer. “Y/N.”

You look over, taken aback by the seriousness painted on his face.

He simply says, “I don’t flirt with everyone.”

Your breath catches, unsure of what to make of his response. He’s still watching you and there’s palpable tension.

Yelena’s voice breaks the moment as she calls from the hall: “When are you two gonna fuck already?”

You drop the plate.

Bucky turns red.