#fic replies

[zaruba-needslove]

I think that Gregory killed Kaye because of the child Suel wanted to bury at the end of that flashback/nightmare...

Omg.... no.... why.... 😃😃😃😃

Well to be fair, I did intend to kill Kaye in the back story for reasons (like that's still the part of twins au lore about Keiwa that remain unchanged, him dying young or at least way earlier before Ace)... but not as far as having the 'father' being the murderer.. like it defeats the purpose considering how Mitsume prayed for six days and night for a child - so how could he murder one of their child lol.

Anyway, doesn't it seem odd that as much as Suel/the DGP should know that Mitsume wished for a child and gotten that wish fulfilled alongside a new power, they never actually LOOK for Mitsume's son? Assuming of course that Mitsume abandoned Ace when he's very young and Ace should be attempting to find her when he's old enough? Like seriously, 2000 years... and Suel never considered it? Never looked for the child who could threaten his whole business?

I'm disappointed in Suel as a villain 😃

But hey, it COULD make sense if Suel believed that the 'threat' has already been neutralized early on. Also what are the odds for Kaye's remains being buried where the Jyamato creatures were cultivated?

That aside, I still had other plans for Gregory so there's no way I'm making him a child killer.

[museaway]

I hope the fic you are working on right now finds a reader who will think about it constantly for years

[angel-of-the-moons]

Yeah you know what fuck it.

From now on asks will be answered in separate fics to ensure I can edit properly later.

So from now on I'll publish it and reply to your asks with the link to the requested fic

As to the Pavitr asks I have in my drafts, I'm sorry guys but you'll have to keep an eye out for them for when I post them, since I won't be able to edit the fucking replies anymore. I can't even finish the drafts so I have to use my writing program to do it now (just because I don't trust Tumblr's goddamn system not to wipe my drafts again--)

Man at this point I may as well go back to uploading this shit on DeviantArt, @staff

[thriftedtchotchkes]

these tags made my whole damn day, thank you for this 😮‍💨

give in

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, age gap, comfort, smut, size kink, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, exploring sexual trauma, mentions of guilt & shame, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.8k

“Doin’ real good, baby. That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush it.”

Joel needs you to believe it. 

He can feel your discomfort and sense the intrusive thoughts threatening to overtake you, but he needs you to know that everything you're doing right now is okay. 

It’s normal and natural, and, under his roof, highly encouraged. All he's ever wanted is for you to feel good. For you to allow yourself the grace and gratification of coming undone at your own, perfect hand.

But you live by an unspoken rule, one that doesn't apply to anyone else but you. There's nothing you love more than watching Joel touch himself, whether it's quick and dirty, or drawn-out and meticulous, his body teetering on the edge of all-consuming release for hours. Yet, when it comes to your personal pleasure, there’s only shame.

He's beginning to realize that your aversion goes beyond a lack of education. You were young when the outbreak hit, and while FEDRA schools aren’t exactly known for their top-tier sex ed classes, that isn't what's holding you back.

There's something else there, too, buried beneath the surface. A lifetime's worth of guilt and doubt that he alone gets the privilege of unraveling. So, whenever you come to him for help, he leads you to his bed and gently coaxes you to self-completion.

He takes it slow and keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise—and you always tell him otherwise. But those are your boundaries to set. New, spoken rules to replace the old ones. 

Pressed firmly into your side, he whispers soft reassurances in your ear, his lips brushing the wispy baby hairs framing your forehead with every word. He swallows every gasp and moan, and cherishes the sharp sting of your nails biting into his skin as you reach your peak.

And when you come down from the clouds and turn to him with hazy eyes and a blissful smile, he knows it's all worth it. Even if it takes years more, he’ll continue to talk you through it, banishing the cruel thoughts that plague you and replacing them with the promise of relief.

Just like he is right now.

--

"Tell me what you're feelin'. I wanna know what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours."

You shake your head, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Your body never responds to you the way it does to Joel, and, on the rare occasion it does, it just isn't the same. It takes too long, and there's none of the gradual build-up that allows you to lose yourself in it. Not in the pleasure of it, anyway.

"S'a little...dry," you mumble, slowing to a stop. It'll start to burn if you keep going like this, but you're not sure what else you can do. Joel presses a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear before pulling back.

"Lemme see your hand, sugar," he says, gesturing for yours with his own. Confused, you remove your fingers from between your legs to hold up in front of his face. 

You're waiting for him to inspect them, or come up with a valid reason why they're not working, when he abruptly sucks them into his mouth. His tongue feels hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dips between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. 

A wave of heat almost identical to the one enveloping your hand begins to pool at the base of your spine, and you feel a sudden, heady whoosh at the apex of your thighs. If he could just keep doing that, exactly that, but further down your body—

But, to your disappointment, he stops as suddenly as he started and slides your fingers from his mouth with a lewd pop before guiding them back to your core.

"How 'bout now?" he asks earnestly, and Christ. He's so good at that. He always knows how to work your body, even by proxy. 

You're wet. You don't even need the added moisture of Joel's saliva, anymore. Just the action itself has you breathing heavier, enticing a craving you never knew you had. Your fingers slip clumsily through the slick leaking out of you, and your eyelids flutter at the fleeting sensation of your fingertips catching your entrance. 

"B-better...feels better," you stumble over your words. Your fingers continue to explore your folds without your permission, stoking the fire in your belly. And also your doubt. "But I'm—J-Joel it's..."

That telltale embarrassment is starting to creep in again, reminding you that you're doing something wrong. It feels too good, and you really don't want to stop, but what does that say about you? Sinner, slut. The intrusive thoughts are louder than Joel's gentle panting in your ear, now.

As if he can hear them, he snakes a hand past your stomach to grip the soft plush of your thigh. He spreads you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massages soothing shapes into your skin, silencing the ugly words with his kind touch.

"S'alright, sugar, you can keep goin'. You liked that, right? That's good. You're treatin' your body the way she deserves," he says encouragingly. His hand inches closer to where you're dribbling onto the sheets, but stops the moment his thumb reaches your coarse curls. 

You ache to wrap your soaked fingers around his to tug him closer, but you know you can't. And that feels surprisingly okay. For the first time in a long time, you're actually keeping yourself sated enough without his help.

Now that your legs are parted, it all feels...different. Heightened, almost. It's because you're hyperaware of every movement you're making, you realize, and it turns you on way more than it should. Or, no. No. Exactly as much as it should. 

Joel isn't immune to it, either. 

As your bedroom fills with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds, you can feel Joel fighting harder not to rut into your side. His body is tense beside you, and the bicep pillowing your head flexes intermittently every time your hips swivel to meet your hand. His praise is also starting to take on an edge, now tinged with something a little...filthier.

"Y'hear that? You're gettin' so loud, sugar. So wet," he grits out, his expression pained. "Just look at'cha. Needy, perfect girl. Doin' everythin' right."

His eyes dart up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. He's watching you a little too intently, likely to avoid the image of your glistening palm and fingertips working to bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. You're making a huge mess.

And it's making Joel hard as a rock. Twitching and leaking, and temptingly bare against the sweet friction of your hip bone. You know he's doing everything he can to focus on you, but he can't even begin to imagine how much his reaction is spurring you on. 

More. You want to give yourself so much more.

"Joel, I don't think I'm doing it right," you twist to whine into his tousled, graying hair. You breathe him in, and the familiar scent of pine and suede makes your head spin and your fingers stutter. "S'not enough. I-I need more, I keep losing it."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, wrenching his gaze away from you to glance down the bed. Christ, he can't even hide how badly he wants to touch you. His cock jerks the moment he catches sight of you again, smearing precum across your skin, and you involuntarily mimic him, your hips bucking up into your unpracticed touch.

Blunt nails dig into your thigh before his hand trails back up to your stomach. It trembles as he guides you, languidly and with a hint of desperation. 

"S'okay, just follow me," he instructs you, swirling his middle and ring fingers in a tight circle around your belly button. You shiver at the raspiness of his voice. "Right around your clit. Remember where that is?" 

But before you can shake your head, his arm slides out from under you and he shifts further down your body to lean over you, propping himself on his elbow. His fingers continue their ministrations on your stomach while he moves lower to gently tug up the hood of your clit, revealing your swollen nub. 

"Fuckin' hell," he swears quietly under his breath, his stomach visibly tensing. He's careful to steer clear of everything else, giving you enough space to heed his lesson. 

"Alright, c'mere, sugar. There ya go. See? You remember," he releases you, shifting a hand to your thigh and wrapping the other tightly around the base of his cock. He keens, his back nearly bowing with the pent-up tension in his body. "That's it. Nice, tight circles. Just like when I make you cum with my mouth."

You choke on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you're suddenly inundated with memories of Joel between your legs, fucking you with his tongue until you gush into his mouth. You press down harder, swirl faster. No guilt, no disgust. It all still feels so good. 

He notices the change in your breathing immediately and begins to stroke himself in time with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. The hazel of his eyes sharpens to pitch black. A warning, preparing you for the ecstasy to come.

"Oh, you like that, huh? S'good, you're doin' so good. Can ya give yourself two fingers? Wanna show ya all the ways I make you squeeze mine," he croons, teasing just below the ridge of his head with his thumb while he waits for your response. 

"I...yeah, y-yes," you whimper, your brows furrowing as you slip your fingers lower to circle your entrance. But as you start to press into yourself, you hesitate. "W-wait, it feels like too much. I don't want it to hurt."

At that, he all but winces like he's in physical pain, and his hand shoots to the base of his cock again, squeezing hard. 

"Christ," he grits through his teeth, but it sounds more akin to a growl. It wasn't your intention to make him fight his own body like this, but you won't lie and say you're not devouring every second of it. He exhales sharply through his nose to ground himself. "Does it feel good when ya take my cock?"

Those dark eyes are on yours, now, but somehow they're still so gentle. He's not saying any of this for himself. You can tell, it's all for you. Reminders that you can do this if you want it, and that he'd never ask you to do anything that could harm you.

You nod quickly because it does feel good. You need him to know that having his cock inside you feels so, so good. 

"Look at those pretty, little fingers of yours. They bigger than I am?"

Your eyes drop to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around himself. He's leaking all over his fingers, thick and tinged an angry shade of red.

"No, Joel. You're bigger," you whisper, your pleasure intensifying the longer you watch him. His lips quirk into the beginnings of a smirk.

"Now, ya don't have to. You can get yourself there just like that. S'just as good," his drawl commands your attention. "But I think you'd like knowin' how it feels like to cum around 'em—"

The tips of your fingers begin to sink into your heat before he finishes his sentence. The sensation is...everything. Too much to keep your eyes from rolling back or your jaw from dropping. It's so different. As you bottom out, you wonder how this is even possible for Joel. How he ever manages to fit.

"S'hard to move," you pump your fingers in and out experimentally, moaning quietly at the addictive way they drag against your sensitive walls.

You're not too naive to realize your body stretches to accommodate him, but you're too caught up in the sight of his hand resuming its previous pace to recall that knowledge. He looks a little desperate now and sounds even more so.

"Fuck me. S'it tight? Tell me, sugar. Tell me how tight ya are," he pants heavily, unable to stop himself from fucking into his fist. You unknowingly match his pace, clenching around yourself every time your palm slaps into your clit.

"M'so tight, Joel. And wet and warm," your eyes flutter closed as you lose yourself in the beauty of your own body. 

Letting the slick sound of his hand slamming into his pelvic bone be your guide, you bring yourself closer and closer to your own, distinctive state of nirvana. The same explosive release Joel gives you all the time that you're finally allowing your body to experience with itself.

"Joel, I'm...I...," you sob around your words, barely able to force them out as your entire being quakes with your impending orgasm. "...I can't—m'gonna cum, Joel, I can't."

Without warning, he throws a leg over your body to straddle your hips and crashes his lips into yours. He continues to work himself as he coaxes your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours fleetingly before he pulls back. 

"Ya can. Let go, sugar. Give in to it, s'okay. I got ya, I'm right here," he breathes against your lips, and you tilt your head to meet his again. When your head drops back onto the bed, your eyes are pleading. You need his help. 

And he understands. That's what he's here for.

"Cum with me," he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours. "C'mon, perfect girl, you deserve it."

You believe him. The shame and never-ending guilt that twists and snags like barbed wire in your chest is nowhere to be found right now. There's only silence, save for you and Joel teetering on the cusp, and his tender reassurances in your ear. He's right. You can have this. 

"Ngh—Joel, it's...cumming. Fuck, fuck, m'cumming."

It creeps up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaks, then slams into you like a freight train. His name leaves your lips in a sharp exhale of sheer relief, repeated like a prayer while you ride it out. 

You're vaguely aware of a ragged, drawn-out groan above you as you soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt squeezing your fingers hard with every spasm, just like he said it would. You feel it all. 

Then, you feel him, splattering across your stomach and breasts in thick, white streaks, his release as messy and prolonged as yours. Gasping, you continue through your aftershocks together until sensitivity sets in.

Joel collapses on the bed next to you and immediately pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, drying residue smearing between you. He cups your cheek and kisses you, firmly but chastely, before reluctantly pulling away.

His eyes search yours carefully like he's looking for something. Peace, maybe? A sense of calm, an absence of the cloudiness he so often sees there and fights to keep at bay. Whatever it is, he must've found it because, then, his lips are on yours again, a longer, deeper kiss that you melt into with loose limbs and a light heart.

"How we doin', sugar?" he asks tentatively as he parts from you. 

You take a moment to respond, appraising your body and everything it can sense right now. The wetness between your legs and on your chest, your aching wrist and thighs, and that sweet, pleasant buzz settling at the top of your spine. 

"Good," you tell him honestly. You gaze up at him with a blissful smile, preening at the affectionate one he gives you in return, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"Thanks...for this," you continue, mumbling carefully into the warmth of his skin. "And for putting up with me. I know all of this is shitty and weird, and not fun. Just...thank you—for never giving up on me."

He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer and enveloping you in his strong, soothing embrace. It feels safe here. In Joel's bed, surrounded by his scent and heat, and unwavering patience, you start to feel hopeful. He lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses the pads of each finger, then the center of your palm.

"Ya don't have to thank me for any of that. We'll keep doin' this, s'long as it takes," he murmurs, urging you out of your hiding spot to meet his eyes. "Not a damn thing wrong with ya. Ya hear me? You're perfect."

Maybe one day, you'll be able to believe him outside of this bedroom. But, for right now, you just feel lucky to be loved by a man like Joel. One who accepts your trauma and your past, and will always be there to save you, even from yourself.

thanks for reading!

[zaruba-needslove]

please.. "Gregory" better not have done to Kaye... what I think he did to Kaye... please...

😂😂😂😂

What did you really think happened? 😂😂

lol for a sec I almost panicked. Did I typoed...did I typed too fast that my silly phone made me mistype and i didn't notice it?

Well let's wait for the next and maybe we'll get to see the pov of the scene from Kaye's side 😃

Gregory trying to make people believe Mitsume only had a miracle child insteaf of twins and Kaye being pursued by the guards/hunters are completely separate incidents. How could Gregory kill his own son? I'm not gonna give questionable plot twist in this fic... okay maybe Gregri shouldn't have left Kaye alone to fend for themselves 👀

[ash-and-starlight]

The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀

Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.

anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck

(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)

[imyourbratzdoll]

Breeding Kink Steve/Bucky eventho you already have a couple of kids 🫣

hi baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long, I hope you like what I wrote.

summary - breeding kink gone wild, your husbands take it to the next level by forever wanting you to carry their child.

warning - smut, breeding kink, sorta dubcon but not really, mentions of pregnancy, creampie, threesome.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“C’mon, Doll. Let us pump you full, want you to have our babies.” Bucky groans in your ear, pressed against your back where you can feel his bulge. You whine, letting out a breathy whimper as Steve grips your hips, pressing soft kisses to your neck, occasionally marking it as well.

“What do you say, Sweetheart? Wanna be full of our cum?”

You squirm, vision becoming hazy as lust clouds your mind. “B–but, we already have two…” Your head falls back, moaning loudly as their cocks slide inside of you without much warning. You didn’t even see them take their cocks out. Your cunt clenches around them, arousal dripping down their thick members, making it easier for them to thrust into you.

“Doesn’t matter, Doll. We wanna breed you forever and watch you grow with our child.” Bucky thrusts in and out, hands sliding up your body until they grasp your breasts. His moans so close to your ear that it causes tingles to spread throughout your body, your cunt clenching around your men. 

Steve groans, biting down on his bottom lip hard as he looks down at you with dark eyes. Your own cloudy ones connect with his, lips parting as you feel them pulse inside of you, gripping them tightly when they hit your sweet spot. Steve’s eyes roll to the back of his head and groans slip past his lips as he pounds into you hard and fast, feeling your little cunt clench around him from his brutal thrusts. 

They continue to have their way with you, fucking you so hard that you see stars. Your juices squirt out of you, causing their cocks to twitch and pump you full of their cum once again. Filling you with large amounts that will likely be the cause of your next pregnancy. Steve and Bucky take turns kissing your lips before cleaning you up. They lay you down on your large bed and grin as they caress your stomach, waiting for the moment you pop this one out for them to start all over again. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[sweetdreamsbuck]

i'm so giddy you felt the want to reread this🥺🥺 I love this little slice of their love. and the marshmallow bit was probably one of my favorite little details I ever thought to include in something. thank you 🥺

take my hand

beefy lumberjack!bucky x f!reader (lumby and bunny au)

wc: 2.2k

prompt: can't skate, gonna need someone to hold my hand

warnings: too much fluff. bucky is sickeningly in love

for col's Winter Wonderland writing challenge and sleepover! this is the first writing challenge I've ever done– seems fitting it's for you! thank you for inspiring me, always. <3 @foreverindreamlandd

a/n: this is a difficult time of year. sending all my love and super self-indulgent thoughts hehe.

happy holidays, my loves❄️🧸☃️🤎

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

“Y’almost got the hang of it!” You most certainly do not.

Bucky tries to tug you along the ice, his hand secure in your double-gloved one– per his insistence on keeping you extra warm– but it’s no use. The ground stutters laughably beneath each attempt of sliding your feet.

Bucky’s never seen anything so adorable before; you’re awful.

Of course, to make matters worse, they’re all gifted on ice– Maria drifts by with a graceful spin, a howling Scott and Natasha racing just behind.

“C’mon Bunny, just slide your feet in time with mine. Small strides, like this,” he demonstrates the movement away from you in hopes your body will be able to mimic the action.

It won’t. You can’t.

“Can’t you just carry me? This holding my hand thing isn’t working,” you whine. Bucky laughs ignoring your groans, grabbing your face and kissing the corner of your mouth until you smile.

“Nope! I need to see you twirlin’ around first and then,” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip longingly, “we’ll talk. But I gotta go get the living room ready, stay out here with Maria, yeah?” He smiles at you– like he’s never witnessed something more worthy of his worship– with the radiance of every last ray of sun, warm and at rest in his stare.

And after the incredible day you’ve all had, this was the last thing on his list before the sun disappeared for the evening. This morning, he’d bundled you in too many cable-knit layers (and then an additional one just to be safe), an oversized coat, and thick garments for your neck, hands, and feet. But watching you bounce on the ice again and again… he wishes he added a few more.

Bucky had everything planned down to the very second; from the beginning dimmings of the sky’s glow so the fairy lights hanging from the cabin into the trees would shine just right, to the dough being rolled out, cut into intricate shapes to be placed in the oven with ample amount of cooling time– can’t have the icing melt off the tops, Bunny. Needs to be perfect for you.

Steve and Natasha had spent over an hour untwining the offending garland and string lights that Sam had managed to knot together, while you and Torres got a head start at throwing plastic balls and pine cones up the side of the smallest of the giant pines encompassing the cabin.

The last tray of cookies had been placed in the oven while the canola oil was set out for the potato mixture, waiting to be fried in Bucky’s special pan– his ma’s old one she only used this time of year.

The success of today was important to him for more reasons than one. He finally has something strong, something certain, worth making memories with– ones that will last him a lifetime and replace all the pain that's led him to now. Bucky only wants to share everything he is with you.

Including the small frozen pond; which Scott, Steve, and Sam tested their weight on, year after year, hopeful they’d bring a little cheer back into Bucky’s life.

Upon his request, of course, you’ll stay out here. Bucky wasn’t asking– he had everything meticulously pinned like points on a map. You know better than to derail any of his plans. So your brilliant grin and sweet hum against the warmth of his cheek is enough to guarantee he’ll be okay leaving you with his friends for a bit.

With a feigned mutter of disapproval, a 'you carry me everywhere, but now it’s an issue?' and an accompanying pucker of your lips, Bucky reluctantly watches as Maria hauls you away, taking over as skating instructor. He shimmies his skates off before shoving his boots back on, joining Steve to get his cabin all set for watching your favorite holiday movie.

****

Bucky can’t help himself, the window is right near the couch he’s meant to be fixing the blankets on. He spent weeks planning this. Hours getting all the lights outlining his cabin just right, dangling them from branches and trunks alike. He needed this to be pristine, for you. Pausing to look out was too tempting, a perfect distraction directly in his line of sight at the mess of people dancing around the ice. Specifically, on you. His Bunny, right at home with his family.

And oh– how you shine. You're impossible to miss, the center of it all, always. To Bucky, anyway.

Bucky blinks with a particular tunnel vision these days, a fixation on the most beautiful thing that’s ever stumbled into his life. The window’s fogged and he’s thankful, for once, that he forgot to clean it better; a frost-tinted circle illuminating your ambrosial luster.

And while quickly moving to place an additional few logs on the fire, he can't fight the urge to get back outside to you. You love curling up against his chest right in front of the flames, warm cream colored blankets and sweet kisses shared until Bucky's reeling, flushed scarlet and suffocating for more.

“What’s on your mind, Buck?” Steve wonders.

They wordlessly walk out of the cabin and down the porch steps, transfixed with the painting of Joaquin and Sam twisting you unwillingly around the ice.

Steve clears his throat.

But Bucky’s somewhere else entirely, your squeals of frightened joy are running circles between his ears, rendering him breathless in a moment he never wants to leave. From the moment just a half hour ago you spoke so softly, "Need you to hold my hand Lumby, what if I suck? Never done this before", to now– he watches on with an ardent tenderness bleeding from his eyes in the shape of you. Sam pushes at your hips from behind, directing your laughing frame wobbling straight into a panicked Torres.

Bucky’s so tragically in love with you.

“Her.”

Your skate catches the bottom of Sam’s too-long jeans, sending you both toppling to the ground in a heap of broad shoulders and heavy limbs– courtesy of a painfully groaning Joaquin and cackling Sam. Steve smiles, observing Bucky take in the picture before him, a low chuckle rumbling within his knowing chest: there’s nothing like watching your best pal falling more and more, so deeply in love, Steve thinks. He nods.

“Mine too.”

“And what’s my girl doin’ in your thoughts?” Bucky smirks, eyes grudgingly leaving your triumphant pose on top of your conquered pile of a bickering Sam and Joaquin. When he meets Steve’s eyes, he finds a noble grin.

“I’m thankin’ her. Never seen you like this, so…” Steve gestures to him, a grand wave of his arms Bucky feels deep in his chest, “So happy. Bucky, she’s–”

“Bucky! Bucky, help me!” They both whip their heads at the excited sound, the two men once face-first on the ice and under your victorious smirk now standing tall on their blades with you lifted high above their heads. Maria and Natasha jump up from their bench to rush to your rescue, hurling insults in between fits of laughter at the two idiots passing you round and round in swooping circles.

Steve looks to his friend, and in Bucky's contentment he sees it– adoration and fondness and relief vibrating warmly.

Bucky melts– his bunny and his best friends. And they adore his girl almost as much as he does. He couldn’t feel more alive.

“Torres! Wilson! Put my girl down, I swear if I find even a scratch on her–”

“You have her in like nine layers. Think she’ll be fine, if she doesn’t pass out from heat exhaustion first…” Sam mumbles securing his arms tightly around your middle, dodging the raucous taunts of the two women before placing you on shaky legs.

You stay standing for a solid three seconds, the air returning to your overexerted lungs. One slide of your foot, then the other. Just like Bucky showed you, left, right, le– your body meets ice.

Shrill mirth fills the woods at, yet again, another fumble of your own two legs. With an enamored chuckle, Bucky moves swiftly, hoping to get to you before another fall occurs. He’s never seen a person fall so much in his damn life.

“So. I’m terrible at this,” the dejected huff swirls past you both in a frozen gust of air. Your body shivers in a tired sulk, working hard to remember what it feels like to be standing. Bucky bends down and aids you out of your skates, shouting for Scott to toss him your boots. Right foot then left, and he secures the thick socks he made you wear over the tops of the laces.

Bucky looks up at you, a satisfied sound whispered into the frigid evening. There’s a playful pity swimming within his features. But his eyes always betray him, completely overflowing with his adoration for you. It nearly knocks you off of your feet, dizzy and back spinning ‘round icy ground. The entrance to the fence that encases the pond snags on your puffy parka and Bucky grabs at your wrists, sliding his thumbs gently down to the thick fabric concealing those precious lifelines of yours. He brings the tops of them to his mouth with a gentle hum.

Nothing feels more secure than falling into the safety Bucky’s presence brings. He stands, plump lips never leaving your knuckles for a second.

As if the evening was expecting you both, frost-bitten air and the last swirls of daylight envelop you in a greeting of serenity. The lights still glimmer and your friends still laugh and yell, but the evening permits you to forget all of that for a moment.

Looking into Bucky’s eyes feels a lot like home.

And the stunning blues have no intention of leaving your sweet face, sulking up at him with the echoes of crystalized wonder and the twinkling from up above dusting along your features– how could he even feel an ounce of sympathy toward you? Not when your pout entices him like nothing else on this goddamned green earth ever could. Nothing could hold a candle to it.

“Wouldn’t say that Bun,” he decides with a solemn shake of his head, squeezing your fingers within his hold, “You’re not terrible. Just not ready… for public viewing, is all.” A short nod and a hopeful smile search to brighten the affected expression on your face. But it isn’t until he leans down with his nose nudging yours, a teasing pout of his lips on your cold skin, an arm sliding behind your hip urging you closer with a sigh against your cheek that you feel it.

He’d do anything to keep you happy.

It’s evident in the glistening snow nestled within the thick sea of evergreen, its sparkling hue all around you– in the sloppily decorated tree just a few feet shy of the pond– in the group of friends he gathered together just to remind you how loved you are, even during the most difficult season of the year. Bucky’d spend hours milling through his ma’s old recipes to find the perfect cookies and those latkes he remembers enjoying years ago. He’d even go as far as tell a little lie no one could possibly ever believe, that you weren’t in fact hazardous on skates, even if it is just the two of you that hear it. He’d bear long hours in the harsh winds of winter for something other than labor, for a gathering of family his girl knows love him to no end, just to see her showered with the same sentiment– to see that smile.

Nothing about loving you is akin to labor.

But then your lips curl, a small giggle bubbling past your once frustrated pout until the sweet sound blooms, swells, stealing the rhythm straight from his chest. And Bucky’s heart soars, from the very depths of his rib cage to the confines of your wool-clad hands, all from just the blinding smile you have only for him.

Candle: lit.

Your hands reach for his cheeks just as they flush crimson, a startling contrast to the scenery surrounding you. Bucky nearly evaporates, right there.

His pulse is thunderous, urging him to delight in nothing but your joy enduringly. Bucky can’t control it, it croons I love you, I love you, I love you.

You’re breathtaking.

He’d never tell his friends he planned today just for you, of how he stocked his kitchen with baking supplies and festive decor just to watch the happiness sparkling, so alive in your eyes.

Bucky’s anything but subtle. His heart beats only with the air of your affections– his friends know.

“C’mon sweet girl,” Bucky’s nose smushes against your hairline, his kiss warming your chilled forehead. “We’ve got cookies to decorate. Can’t let Sam find ‘em or they’ll be gone before we know it.”

At the sight of Bucky’s reverent lips descending the span of your face, Steve turns to head back to the cabin. With a heavy smack of his arm around Sam’s shoulders and a smile spread proudly across both of their faces, they let their friend take all the time he needs. Natasha’s grin twitches softly, watching Bucky sing of his love for you with every glide of his lips against your skin, with every breath that fills his lungs.

Bucky continues on, reaching and pulling for every little laugh you’ll give him, sparing no expense for the feelings of his friends: "Maria’s terrible on ice, did’ya even see her out there? Nearly knocked poor Torres on his ass.” No, that was you, actually. And you did. “Scott took all the marshmallows, can’t let him find out about our secret stash, kay?” He keeps them in an old tea container, they taste of bergamot. “Stevie thinks he’ll make a better gingerbread house than us, you believe that punk?” He only said that to get Bucky riled up.

Sam hears it– they all do. You hardly attempt to quiet your delight whenever Bucky gets you snuggled close, wrapped entirely bare in his need to be your everything.

A hurried kiss teases his stubble, then graces his lips, and your arm entangles itself around his own until the tips of fingers interlock in a charm of whispered giggles. And while walking the length of the winter wonderland he’s created for you, hyper and giddy and so full of emotion, your heart thanks him.

They all hear Bucky prod, the cheap digs and the silly goading; not a single one of them has the means to chide– they know. Their friend has finally found peace, tightly woven within the grasp of a warm woolen hand.

[newttxt]

pls read the zosan fic “utilities included” and enjoy sanji making his own life as miserable as possible in plain view of his new roommate

from ch. 1 of utilities included (mind the tags and rating)

masterpost

[nanamiscocksleeve]

More spamming for LaDs, but spicy...

NSFW HCs: Favorite non-traditional space to enjoy a good romp other than a bed for each of the boys... and maybe why it is their favorite?

Unconventional Romp Spots

This took a while but here we are! Loved the creativity of this request and let's face it, all of them are down so bad for reader that they'll do whatever she wants. 🤭🤭🤭 Warnings: MDNI, exhibitionism, PIV sex, clit play

Zayne’s favorite spot to make love to you apart from the bed was the couch. Was it incredibly unconventional? Not really but the couch was firm and warm, the place you and he sat snuggled together during those rare times he wasn’t working, countless movies and snacks shared, and drinking your morning coffee in each other’s company.

So why shouldn’t it count as a perfectly good spot to make love?

Your fingers tangle into his silky locks of hair as he kisses you, his large body hovering carefully before he lays down, his hips now flush against yours as he sensually licks your lips before parting them with his tongue. A contented sigh escapes you as the wet appendage dances with yours, sending jitters of excitement running through you as you slip your hands under his shirt, enjoying the warmth and scent of his skin. 

A hum emanates from his large frame as you reach the middle of his back, your nails scratching him just hard enough to send a rush of arousal skittering down his spine, heat gathering in his veins as he drinks in the sight of you, flushed and hazy, beneath him. You help each other remove the barriers of clothing, savoring the intimate skin-to-skin contact. You nuzzle his neck then trail a line of kisses down the side, watching his eyes darken with desire. 

With care, he pulls off your bra, tossing it aside and kneeling, the low couch creaking slightly as it took your weight. The TV remote lay forgotten on the coffee table as Zayne swirls a hardened nipple into his hot, wet, mouth, sucking patiently. You cradle his head as pleasurable shocks zip straight to your core. Your clit throbs in need as he tweaks your free nipple between his fingers. You writhe and moan, your hips pressing against his to seek friction.

Expertly you undo the belt of his buckle and his zip, rocking your hands against the hard heat of his erection and he releases your nipple to groan needily, his eyes flashing dangerously. Not needing any further encouragement he slides your panties off your legs, his hand coming up to cup your mound and gathering the moist heat leaking from your core onto his fingers, spreading it up towards your clit. You’re helpless under him, his long, thick, middle finger sliding so teasingly into your core while his thumb circles the little bundle of nerves.

Sighs and longing moans of need escape you as he builds up your arousal, those keen eyes watching your face for signs of your impending climax, and when you finally begin to clamp down with that familiar pattern onto his fingers, he crooks his inserted finger up into that spongy patch of delight. You erupt, a wavering moan escaping your lips as the orgasm rips through you, your clit and core spasming in pleasure around him. He pulls out his fingers, licking them clean before aligning himself between your legs.

You awkwardly part them, trying to find a comfortable angle on the narrow space of the sofa before he grabs you by the ankles and wraps your legs securely around his waist before entering you in one, long, passionate, stroke. The air grows balmy as his hips undulate, the fill of him inside you bringing all your primal needs to the surface. Your nails leave scratches on his back, and your eyes close as the sound of his ragged breathing overtakes your senses. Your eyes meet and you stroke his face, gently tracing the outline of his lips, caressing the corners of his eyes before he gathers your close, his grip leaving indents in your skin as he gives all of himself to you. 

Oh, this sweet-looking man is the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He won’t hesitate to take you anywhere, anytime. His unconventional spot is his desk at the office. He loves how naughty it makes him feel.

It’s past office hours and everyone has gone home, but Xavier had been making excuses to get you to stay late since lunch. Now, finally alone he boxes you in against his desk, your body blocked from escaping by his tall frame. His gloved hands shamelessly slide under your hunter’s uniform as he gropes your tits, palming the mounds of flesh possessively, satisfaction coursing through his veins as your nipples harden under his palms. His tongue traces hot trails down your neck as you squirm against him, feeling hardness gather between his thighs.

You whimper as his teeth scrape the front of your throat, your blood humming in your ears. Xavier undoes the buttons and buckles on the uniform and your clothes slide to the floor, leaving you in bra and panties. A stain of moisture has gathered on the crotch and Xavier’s sapphire eyes become luminous with hunger at the sight. 

“I’m guessing you’re just pretending when you say you don’t like me taking you at the office.” He helps you hop onto the desk and then kneels between your thighs, his nose brushing against the smear, inhaling the musky scent of need leaking from your core. He pulls apart your legs, helping you balance your feet at the edge of the desk then hooks his finger into the gusset of your panties, pulling them to the side and giving you a teasing lick that makes your hips thrust up. 

Xavier chuckles and sticks his tongue into your moist hole and you moan, the noise escaping into the quietness of the office, only seeming to sound louder than when it was full. Lewd slurping noises can be heard as Xavier goes to town, sucking every drop of your essence he can find, his tongue drawing circles over your sensitive bud as your hips instinctively rock against his mouth. Xavier’s cock throbs painfully inside his slacks as he steadily builds your orgasm, your every movement and noise only adding fuel to the fire. He frees one hand from it’s glove and probes your entrance, watching your fluttering hole suck his fingers in, clenching with desire around the long digits.

Every nerve in your body is begging for release, your head turning to one side, seeing all the empty desks of your colleagues, none of whom will have a clue of what happened on the desk next to them when they get in the next morning. The thought causes heat to gather in your belly, your abdominal muscles tightening in anticipation until Xavier pushes you over the peak, your breath tearing from your throat as you gasp out in ecstasy, pulse after pulse of satisfying pleasure flooding your senses. 

Xavier licks his fingers clean then quickly undoes his pants, his cock finally springing free of its confines, leaking precum on its tip. He guides himself towards your warm, wet, cunt, gently splitting you apart as he fills you up. The stretch of muscle is welcoming, and he rolls your knees onto your chest, making you impossibly tighter around him as he starts to thrust. 

As the air fills with your quiet whimpers, he sighs and settles into a comfortable rhythm, ensuring he bottoms out each time, dragging his length along your inner walls as he withdraws. 

“Maybe next time we should do this on Tara’s desk instead of mine. Imagine her look of confusion when she comes in and sees all her paperwork is stained.”

The beach. He enjoys the noise of the water lapping onto the sand as he pulls you away to a hidden spot on the sandy dunes. Was it really his fault that you wore that sexy little bikini, the one that showed just enough of your sweet ass and lacked just enough support that it didn’t prevent your boobs from jostling around when you walked?

Surrounded by a craggy wall of privacy, his eyes glitter mischievously as he squeezes every part of your body, enjoying the way your face becomes flushed and your kisses become sloppier as he teases your nipples through the bikini top, the peaks visible and hard. He grins unashamedly as you stretch out on your stomach on the beach blanket he’s laid out, and starts to undo the knot at your back. His lips kiss the back of your neck and trail down your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine with each touch. You’re humming lazily, then roll over to expose your breasts to him, sand dotting your collarbones and belly. 

Rafayel dips his head and suckles a pert nipple, groaning. “Oh, you’re all salty babe…from swimming in the ocean. Oh delicious…” He switches to the other one, savoring the taste of the salt and your skin as you moan and reach over to palm him through his swimming trunks. He’s rock hard and throbbing as you stroke his erection and his hips snap forward with each movement of your small hand. 

The sound of the waves crashing down onto the shore and the call of the seagulls disguise the moans and noises of sweet pleasure the both of you are making as Rafayel hooks a finger into the elastic of your bikini bottom and pulls it down. The ocean breeze caresses your body and goosebumps erupt all over your skin. Rafayel chuckles and covers your body, his warmth seeping comfortingly into you as your hands tickle down his back, leaning up to give him unhurried kisses down his happy trail. Unable to hide your enthusiasm anymore, you loosen the drawstring of his swim shorts, tugging down the fabric and freeing his hard meat. It pops up proudly, leaking droplets at the tip. 

You swirl your tongue generously around it and Rafayel bucks almost delicately into your mouth, the moist heat welcome against the chill of the air. He clicks his tongue in dismay as you let go but surprise him by rolling him under you, and quickly changing positions so that your pussy was tantalizingly visible over his face. You go back to eagerly slurping his generous length and feel the wet slip of his tongue lick a hot stripe along your cunt and hum in gratification as he hits your clit. He tasted salty too, and you suck on his tip like a lollipop trying to fit as much of him into your mouth as you could. Saliva drips from your mouth and onto the crevices of his thighs as you pleasure each other. You let out a keening moan, muffled by his cock as he inserts two fingers into your fluttering hole and starts petting your gspot. Your hips rock against his face and when his lips seal over your clit your concentration slips, his cock falling from your mouth as you rest your cheek on his thigh and writhe, all your inhibitions flying loose.

The relentless actions of his tongue and fingers bring you to a satisfactory orgasm, the punch of ecstasy pulsing through you as your fingers find purchase in the sand, bracing yourself and letting out shuddering whines as you ride the dizzying high. 

Rafayel laps at the fluid leaking from your core, and the feeling jolts you into needing more, the clenching of your cunt almost becoming unbearable. You scramble off his face, resting on your knees as you drag your pussy down his chest, then tease his swollen cockhead with your drooling hole. Rafayel hisses at the sensitivity and before you could react he thrusts his hips and sheathes himself inside you. 

Full and in a haze of need, you ride him, feeling his hands firmly grasp your fleshy ass, gently prying apart your cheeks as you bounced so that he can see the way your hole slides over him, enveloping him in that sweet essence.

“Ahh fuck…” Rafayel’s thrusts get sloppy as the slap of skin on skin gets more urgent, your moans mingling in the salty air as you push him to the edge. Rafayel grits his teeth as your pussy spasms around him, milking him dry as he unloads, his milky seed flooding your channel like sea foam washing up on the sand. 

It excites Sylus to take you on his private balcony. It’s just secluded enough not to give away everything that's happening but open enough that a passerby might hear or see something they weren’t expecting. The excitement is enough to get his blood pumping, a heady rush swooshing through his body as his head fills with illicit thoughts on how to get you to lose control. 

“Sylus please…” You whine helplessly as his head buries itself between your parted thighs, his tongue licking a sinfully pleasurable line from your dripping hole up to your clit. Your hands grip the railing as you moan into the open air while he crouches, a powerful jaguar that wasn’t going to leave you until he’s had his fill. The dim lights of the N109 zone surround you, passing cars and the faint noise of the few people that dared to walk on the streets breaching the edges of your senses.

His hot tongue pushes into your dripping hole and your legs wobble from the heady rush of desire that surges through you. Sylus’s chuckle is muffled and he withdraws, only to replace his tongue with his long, thick fingers. You lean over the edge, trying to steady yourself and Sylus firmly wraps his arms around your middle.

“Please what kitten?” He curls his fingers up into your gspot and pops of color appear behind your closed eyelids as you twitch, your ass jiggling as you dance on his fingers. The air is punctuated with broken moans and Sylus’s eyes gleam in satisfaction at your broken state. “That’s not nearly loud enough. You’ll need to mewl harder than that to even be heard over the traffic.” He gives a teasing lick to your clit and watches your hips jerk. The puffy folds of your sex are leaking copiously, coating his fingers with your slick.

How delightful to have you at his mercy, to have the whole N109 zone hear the pretty noises you made for him, to establish his dominance everywhere. Sylus nuzzles his nose in between your sex, inhaling the sweet musk of your pussy and you reflexively push against him. “This smell when you get so needy for me…it’s intoxicating.” Caged between Sylus and the balcony you’re helpless to do anything else but accept his kisses and licks, feeling him swirl the tip of his tongue on your clit while his fingers work inside you to bring you over the edge. 

When your orgasm finally peaks you sob, your body shaking uncontrollably, all thoughts of not being discovered flying out of the window as pleasure pulses through your body. You bear down on his face, pleasing him immensely as you ride out the dizzying spiral of delight. Once you calm down, Sylus gets to his feet, then to your shock, roughly yanks open the front of your blouse, your tits open to the night air. The taboo of the act brings forth a surge of fresh arousal as he palms the mounds of flesh and you hear the soft noise of a zipper being opened. His cock pushes apart your folds, the engorged head notching into your messy opening and filling your empty canal. You choke out a desperate sound, lost to the noise of the city, but more follow as he thrusts smoothly, his hardened meat kissing your cervix with each stroke.

He offers you his finger and you suck on it for comfort, whining your muffled pleasure as he continues the mutual gratification. 

“That’s a good kitten. Keep purring for me, sweetie.”

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume

[zaruba-needslove]

ACE!!! WHY ARE YOU STEALING MEMORABILLIA OF YOURSELF?!!!!

Tsumuri and Ziin must've been so surprised lol!!!!

😂😂😂😂

Meanwhile, that explained the 'mysterious' box inside the main shrine 😃

Ace really wanted to erase even the memories of people who had been avid fans of the Star of the Stars of the Stars. But not like Keiwa won't have a say on this. 😃

[nelissecrectplace]

Tumbler needs to make a “like reply” button cause I be wanting to like so many replies BUT I CANT 💔

[journen]

So, I have a couple artworks I did for a fic I wrote / am writing. Au where Simon leaves the army to raise his nephew Joseph. In this installment ahaha Soap, who is still in the army, is visiting for the holidays, and so here is Simon and Jo picking up Soap from the airport, and Joseph giving Soap a hug! Both are of little scenes in the first chapter. 😊🧡

I'm so weak for uncles Simon and Johnny!!!!

[hedwig221b]

Long time Sterek fan, long time lurker, and SO happy to see you here: any pack mom Stiles fic recs?

Happy to see you, too! I definitely need to catch up on pack mom!Stiles but these are so good! 💖

Building Blocks by Lisztful

Stiles doesn’t exactly mean to start cleaning up after everybody, it’s just that, well, sometimes he thinks Derek turned them into actual animals.

Needed by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Stiles knows he doesn't bring anything to the pack, but if that's true, why does Derek come to him for help?

take my heart from me by Areiton

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them. To Derek. He just wanted to keep them all safe. That's all Stiles ever wanted.

The Comfort of Coming Down by MadcapRomantic

Stiles isn't the only human in the pack, but, more often than not, he's the most vulnerable.

the three rules of beacon hills high (there is a cult in school) by graveltotempo

there are three clear cut rules in Beacon Hills High School:

Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his friends after you Do not hurt Stiles Stilinski’s friends, unless you want him after you Do not flirt with Stiles Stilinski, unless you want his boyfriend after you

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott

[ofstarsandvibranium]

YEEESS! BUCKY STANS COMING BACK ALIVE!!!

Don’t Mess with My Girl

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You come home from work and you make the mistake of telling Bucky that a guy has been harassing you at work.

Warning: harassment from a male coworker

A/N: the snippets of Bucky in the Thunderbolts trailer have ignited my love for him again omfg.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky's already home when you arrive from work. You let out an exhausted sigh as you place your things on the kitchen island and kiss Bucky's cheek, "Hi, lovey."

He hums and looks at your slumped figure, "What's wrong?" he asks with furrowed brows, concern written all over his face.

"Just a rough day at work," you reply, opening up the dishwasher to grab a cup and snort as you see Bucky's metal prosthetic resting inside.

You turn back to him, "Explain," you say pointing at his arm.

He gives a sheepish grin and shrugs, "Today was a bit messy, is all." You chuckle and roll your eyes. You grab a cup from the top rack of the dishwasher and grab Bucky's arm, laying it on the counter.

"What happened today?" you ask as you fill your cup with water from the fridge.

Bucky shakes his head, "Nope. I asked you a question first," he walks over to you and cups your face with his right hand, "What's made my girl all upset?"

You groan, "A new hire, Noah. He's very...persistent."

"Persistent how?"

You shrug, "He just keeps asking me out, getting a little too close-"

"Fire him," Bucky immediately says.

You groan, "But he's a good employee!"

"Doesn't matter if he keeps harassing you."

"I wouldn't say he's harassing me..."

Bucky cocks a brow and places his hand on his hip in a very intimidating manner, "Does he get aggressive when you reject him?"

"...yes."

"Is he constantly berating you and not taking no for an answer?"

"...yeah."

"Does he scare you?"

"A little bit."

"Baby, that's harassment," he says as he walks over to his metal arm, placing it onto the notch and locking it in. He looks down and flexes his arm, "I can take care of him for you, easily. The fellas and I can grab him and-"

You immediately wave your hands and shake your head, "No, no, no. No! Don't hurt him! I'll-I'll handle it. I'll talk to Joan and let her know what's been going on."

"Good and if that doesn't stop him then, I'll pay him a visit," you give him a playful shove and he chuckles, "What? No one messes with my girl and gets away with it!"

____________________________

As soon as you got into the bookshop the next day, you immediately tell Joan of Noah's behavior. When he comes in, Joan pulled him aside to talk to him. You thought that everything would be good after that...but you were wrong.

When you were in the back, putting books away, Noah corners you, "Did you really have to tell Joan our business?"

You can't help but scoff at his audacity, "Well you wouldn't stop asking me out after I said no and reminding you that I have a boyfriend."

It's Noah's turn to scoff, "Oh yeah, your boyfriend," he says with air quotes, "You say you have one but you don't have him as your lockscreen and you haven't showed any pictures of him."

"He's a private person, but that's not the point! I told you 'no'! You should've stopped after that."

Noah rolls his eyes, "Oh just because someone says 'no', doesn't mean they mean it! Means they want you to try harder."

"Actually, it just means 'no' and you fuck off," a deep voice cuts in-between the confrontation between you and Noah.

Both of you turn to see Bucky standing there with a hard glare on his face.

You gulp, "Bucky, what're you doing here?"

He holds up your lunch bag, "You forgot your lunch at home," he holds it out and you rush over to him, grabbing the bag and remaining at his side.

Noah looks at Bucky with wide eyes and then at you. His face loses color as he realizes, "W-Wait, you-you're dating the White Wolf of Brooklyn?"

Bucky smirks at his nickname, "Yeah, she is. And my girl told me you wouldn't leave her alone. Sounds like even with your job on the line, you still don't seem to get the hint." He slips off his blazer, handing it off to Steve. He then starts rolling up the sleeve of his metal arm, the dim lighting of the book shop reflecting off its metal plates.

"I can definitely figure out a way to get the message through to you."

Noah stutters out a response, "N-No. Th-That's not necessary, s-sir. I-I won't bother, Y/N again, I promise."

Bucky hums, "If I see or hear you harassing my girl or anyone else, I'll make sure your body will never be found again. Scum like you don't deserve second chances, but I'm feeling a little gracious today."

Noah nods, "Thank you. I-I won't behave like that ever again."

"Good. Now apologize to Y/N," he nods to you.

Noah gulps and stutters out an apology. You simply reply with a nod and Noah scurries away.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. You look at Bucky, "Thanks."

He shrugs, "Anyone gives you a problem, they have to go through me," he mumbles pecking your lips.

"Y/N, do you know why Noah suddenly qui-ah," Joan turns the corner to see you and Bucky. The older woman puts her hands on her hips and gives Bucky a scolding look, "Barnes, what did you do?"

Bucky shrugs, "Just gave him a warning, ma'am. He shouldn't have been treatin' my girl like that!"

"Very true, but you know I don't condone violence in my shop."

He holds his hands up, "No violence happened, ma'am. Just a little threatenin'." Joan looks to you for confirmation and you nod.

She sighs, "Very well. Guess I need to look for another employee again."

An idea came to mind, "Actually, I know someone!"

______________

"Seriously, Y/N, I owe you one for this!" the young brunette exclaims as he follows you with a box of books in his arms.

You chuckle, "It's no problem, Peter. Besides, we both get something out of this. You're doing a much safer job like your Aunt May and Tony wanted and you get to keep an eye on me for Bucky. It's a win-win situation."

The bell above the shop's door rings and Peter immediately places the box of books down, "I got it!" he rushes to the front, "Hi, welcome to-oh! Y/N!" Peter's voice echoes through the store.

You shelf a book and head to the front, "Yeah?" you break out into a smile as you see Bucky there.

"Hey!" you approach him, giving a little wave to Steve, who stands behind him. Steve waves back, but says nothing else. You wrap your arms around Bucky and peck his lips, "What's up?"

"Had a meeting at Wanda's shop, brought some pastries for you, Joan, and the kid," he hands over the maroon pastry box with Wanda's logo on it.

"Yay! Here, Peter," you hand it off to the young man and he jaw drops, "Oh, sweet! Thanks, Mr. Barnes!" and he heads into the back to share the pastries with Joan.

Bucky places his hands on your waist, "How's he doin'?"

You chuckle, "Fine. He's very enthusiastic and a hard worker. Plus, he doesn't hit on me because he's in love with MJ."

Bucky's brows shoot up in surprise, "Jones' kid? Pft. Good luck, Parker."

You giggle and then back away, "Alright, big mob boss, I need to get back to work."

"Fine. But seriously though, you feel better? Safer?"

You nod, "I do. Thank you," you kiss his cheek and he softens, "Like I said, no one messes with my girl," he gives you a wink and wave as he exits the book shop.

[stealingyourbones]

I desperately need more mentor uncle figures and mentor brother figures in DPxDC to fill the interesting relationship dynamic gap that father figures stories can't always fill are u picking up what I'm putting down. Hell, just a regular friendship relationship with absolutely 0 familial dynamic.