#i love going off vibes and dream

[darlingdespairstims]

are u ok with the source craig of the creek :o?? if so can you please do an agere stimboard for Jason?

ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ

Jason Stimboard

For anon!!

Note ; I am willing to do this source , but unfortunately I haven't really engaged in anything with this source before so i just went with vibes and instinct n chose themes of boyre and boy scouts stuff, so I hope this is okay!!

🐞-⛺-🐞

🌲-🍼-🌲

🐞-⛺-🐞

ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ

[spotaus]

Okay! This one is less rendered than the other two, but here's some doodles of Tulpa figuring out how to co-exist! (Aka Fresh not taking training seriously while Dream is trying desperately to get his friends to think he's normal.)

When Dream first returns to the Star Sans', he finds himself in a pickle, because he needs Fresh to move his body. Sure, they made a tentative agreement that Dream trusted Fresh not to break, but Dream hadn't been specific enough with the guidelines.

Fresh pilots Dream's body based on the commands from his soul, but more often than not Fresh simply decides not to listen. Sometimes when they're training, Fresh will suddenly make Dream fumble his bow or send an arrow flying way off-target. Dream is always frustrated by this, unaware that Fresh it doing it for his own good and is forcing the guardian to take a break.

Blue was also made aware of Fresh very early on. One day he was passing the kitchen where Dream was cooking and spotted how Fresh's little form was wiggling out of the hole on Dream's skull. Blue made Eye-contact with Fresh, but said nothing since it seemed like Dream was aware and didn't mind. He waited until Dream told him to acknowledge the parasite directly, but suddenly a bunch of Dream's weird actions made sense to him. Blue regularly makes sure to check in on Dream, before abd after he's aware of Fresh, because he knows Dream works himself into the ground.

Dream (eventually) figures out that Fresh was being clumsy for his sake and nearly cries about it (even his mother and the villagers never did that for him, and Blue was the only other person to ever pull him away from training for his own good) so he gets a bit emotional. He feels bad for how angry he used to get at Fresh for doing that, but Fresh never gave him a proper explanation either, so it was a two-way street.

And while Fresh was lienent around Blue and Ink, he never slipped up around Nightmare's gang. Though, he did fight seriously, which to him might look like goofing off, which is completely separate from Dream's fighting style. (For now Dream uses Arrows and his Bow, but I'm thinking Tulpa has a T-Shirt Canon or a Nerf Gun by the time they make-up.)

Ideally Fresh cannot be seen during combat because he actually pilots from around Dream's soul, but sometimes his parasite form expands to support Dream's weak joints and act like a shock-absorber.

[sefynarose]

Bound - A Short Sylus Story

(Loosely based off of Sylus’s dialogue if you don’t login for 30 days (based off the tiktok I saw, I could never leave him for a DAY let alone a month but I wanted some angst) Side note this ends abruptly because I stop writing when I lose inspiration so this is just me getting out the little scenario that played in my head :<).

TW: Mentions of blood, death, sadistic sylus, hurt mc, dom!sylus (?), etc.

(Let me know if I need any other tw's. I haven't had to do this on tumblr in forever!)

Mʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜɪᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴀs I ғᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀɴᴅᴀɢᴇs, ᴍʏ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ. Tʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴜᴛᴀʟ, ᴀɴᴅ I ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴀɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏʟʟᴀᴘsɪɴɢ.

Mʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ғʀᴇsʜ sᴄᴀʀs, sᴏᴍᴇ sᴛɪʟʟ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ I ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʜᴀɪʀʟɪɴᴇ ғʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʀɪʙ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ sᴇɴᴛ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴡ ғʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴍʏ ʙᴏɴᴇs ғᴇʟᴛ. I’ᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏsᴘɪᴛᴀʟ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ, ʙᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ, I sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs, ᴡɪɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴀs I ᴅᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴛɪsᴇᴘᴛɪᴄ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ɢᴀsʜ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ.

I sɪɢʜᴇᴅ, ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜsʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴀsɪᴅᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡᴀs ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ, sᴀᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏғᴛ ʀᴜsᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴀɪᴅ ᴋɪᴛ.

I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ—ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜɪᴍ.

Mʏ sᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ. Wᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ғᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. Nᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɴʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇᴀʟ. I ʜᴀᴅ sᴛᴏʀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ N109 ᴢᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅ ғᴜʀʏ, ɴᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs. Tʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴏ I ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ɪᴛ ��ɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴠᴀʟ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ.

I ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ ᴍᴇssᴀɢɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ, ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ I ᴡᴀs, ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ sɪɴᴄᴇ. Iᴛ sᴀᴛ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇsᴋ, sɪʟᴇɴᴛ, ɪᴛs sᴄʀᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍɪɴᴏᴜs. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ, ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴏᴍʙ ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʟᴏᴅᴇ. I ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ sᴜʀᴇ ɪғ ʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ I ᴡᴀs ɢᴏɴᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, I ᴡᴀs ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ—ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ. Aɴᴅ ɪғ I ʜᴀᴅ sᴜᴄᴄᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘɪssɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴏғғ… I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I’ᴅ ғɪɴᴅ.

I ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ, ғᴏᴄᴜsɪɴɢ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀsᴋ ᴀᴛ ʜᴀɴᴅ. Wʜʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ I ᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴀ sʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ?

I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀʟғᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴜᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛs ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀᴇᴅ. I ɢʟᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀɴᴅᴇʟɪᴇʀ, ᴀ ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ᴄʜɪʟʟ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴍʏ sᴘɪɴᴇ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʜᴀᴍᴍᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴇsᴛ. I ғᴇʟᴛ ғᴏᴏʟɪsʜ. I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ’ᴠᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ғɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ I ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ, ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ I ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ.

I ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. I ʜᴀᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ.

Tʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴘᴜᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇʟʏ. Dᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ᴅᴇsᴄᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ, ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ɪᴛsᴇʟғ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʜɪs ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ. Eᴀᴄʜ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. A ғᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴀs ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ, ғʟᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɢᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Aɴᴅ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

Mʏ ᴘᴜʟsᴇ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ. Tʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ғʀɪɢɪᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs, ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ ᴇʏᴇs ʙʟᴀᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ, sᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋɴᴇss ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀs.

“Y/N,” ᴀ ʟᴏᴡ, ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄɪɴɢ ɢʀᴏᴡʟ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴜɴᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴀʙʟᴇ.

Mʏ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴄᴇ. Tʜᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ sᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀʏ sᴜʀɢᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪxᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs—ᴀ ᴘᴜʟʟ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴ. I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ, ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜsʜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ—ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ, ᴍʏ ᴘᴜʟsᴇ ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄ. Tʜᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴀɪᴅ ᴋɪᴛ sʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɢʀᴀsᴘ, ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴏʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴄʟᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ.

Hᴇ sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ; ᴛᴀʟʟ, ᴍᴇɴᴀᴄɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜs, ʜɪs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴘʀ��ᴅᴀᴛᴏʀʏ. Mʏ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʜɪs. Hɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴇᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍᴇ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀᴇᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘʀᴇʏ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴀᴡs ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀsᴛ. Hɪs ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ, sᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ʟᴜɴɢs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴘᴀssɪɴɢ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ғʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ.

I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛᴇɴᴅʀɪʟs ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴇᴠᴏʟ ᴄᴏɪʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ, ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ sᴡɪʀʟs ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs. Tʜᴇʏ ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴘᴜʟsɪɴɢ ᴀs ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʏ, ᴛᴏᴏ, ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ. Hᴜɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ʀᴇᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴ. Fᴏʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ.

“Yᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ?” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ʟᴏᴡ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ʀᴇsᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ғᴜʀʏ.

Hᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜsᴄʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴛᴇɴsᴇᴅ. Mʏ ғɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀ ғʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴsᴛɪɴᴄᴛ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ, ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴡᴀs ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʏᴢᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ—ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ, ʜɪs ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ, ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʜᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀʙᴏʀ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ.

I sᴡᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʜᴀʀᴅ, ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs sᴄᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴏs ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʀʀᴇᴅ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ. Fᴇᴀʀ, ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ, ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs sᴡɪʀʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ, ʟᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴғʟɪᴄᴛɪɴɢ ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs.

“Yᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ,” ʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇ sᴛʀᴏᴅᴇ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ʜɪs ᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ. Hɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴡᴇʀᴇ sʜᴀʀᴘ, ᴡɪʟᴅ. “Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜɪᴅᴇ ɪɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇs ᴇᴠᴇɴ I ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғɪɴᴅ.”

Iɴ ᴀ ғʟᴀsʜ, ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ, ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪɴᴄᴇ. Hɪs ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ sᴋɪᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀɴᴇss, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇɴᴛ sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ sᴘɪɴᴇ. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴍᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘs, ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴘʀɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs.

“Sʏʟᴜs, I—”

I ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴄʜɪɴ, sɪʟᴇɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄᴜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ sᴡᴇʟʟ, ғᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғғ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ғᴜᴇʟ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ғɪʀᴇ.

“I ᴡᴀs ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴍʏ ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ.” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍᴏᴜs ɢʀᴏᴡʟ. “Sᴇᴇᴍs sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅs.”

Hɪs ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡᴀs ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴀs ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ʜɪs ᴄʀɪᴍsᴏɴ ᴇʏᴇs ʙʟᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜɴʙʀɪᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. Tʜɪs ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ Sʏʟᴜs I ᴡᴀs ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ. Hᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏsᴇᴅ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇғ��ʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ—ɢʀᴀᴄᴇғᴜʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴜɴʙᴇᴀʀᴀʙʟʏ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ. Bᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ. Yᴇs, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇs I ʜᴀᴅ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴀs ғᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʟʟ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ.

“Dɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ? Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I’ᴠᴇ ᴇɴsɴᴀʀᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ?” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜʀʏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴜᴛ ʙʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs—ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. 

“Yᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴍɪɴᴇ.”

Hɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ᴀs ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs, sᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏʀᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢ. Hᴇ ʜᴀᴅ sᴀɪᴅ ɪᴛ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ʜɪs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴ? Oᴜʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴡᴀs ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴇғɪɴᴇᴅ. Iᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇғɪᴇʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀsʜɪᴘ—ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴛʜᴀɴ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀʟʟɪᴇs. Aɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜɪs sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ, ɪɴᴇxᴘʟɪᴄᴀʙʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴜs ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ.

Dᴇsᴘɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀʀsʜɴᴇss ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ ʟᴜʀᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ. Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ɢʀᴀsᴘ. I ғᴇʟᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ I ᴡᴀs ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴡᴇʙ ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴜs ʜᴀᴅ ғᴜʟʟʏ ᴜɴʀᴀᴠᴇʟᴇᴅ. Hɪs ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ—ᴛʜɪs ᴄᴏɴsᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴄʟᴀʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ʜɪs—ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀʏ. I ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴡʜʏ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴜʟʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜs.

Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴏʟ-ʟɪɴᴋs, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀɪᴍᴀʟ. Iᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴜs ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɴᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴅᴅᴇɴɪɴɢ. Mᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ I ғᴇʟᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀʟᴇss ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ɪᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇs.

As ʜᴇ ᴘᴜʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ, ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ sʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɴᴇᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅ, I ғᴇʟᴛ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴅɪɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ, ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. Hɪs ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍ sɴᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ, ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ ʀɪʙs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ᴀ sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴊᴏʟᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴇ. I ɢᴀsᴘᴇᴅ, ᴀ ᴄʀʏ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪɴɢ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ.

Sʏʟᴜs ғʀᴏᴢᴇ, ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴡɪᴅᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ғʟɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ’s ᴜɴɪғᴏʀᴍ. Hᴇ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴍɪx ᴏғ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘʀɪᴍᴀʟ.

"Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏғғ. Nᴏᴡ." Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ, ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʏɪᴇʟᴅɪɴɢ. 

Tʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ, I ғᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀɴᴅ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴇxᴄʀᴜᴄɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀs I ᴘᴀɪɴsᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢʟʏ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜᴇs. Mʏ sᴋɪɴ ғʟᴜsʜᴇᴅ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜɪs ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ sᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ, ��ɴᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴛ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ғᴇʟʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ʀᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ, ʜɪs ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴜɴʀᴇᴀᴅᴀʙʟᴇ.

“Cᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Lᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.”

Mʏ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ᴡᴏʙʙʟᴇᴅ ᴀs I sᴛᴇᴘᴘᴇᴅ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅs—ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇғᴜʟ ɴᴏᴡ—ɢʀᴀsᴘᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ʜɪᴘs, ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟɪᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ. Gʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇ ʙᴏᴜǫᴜᴇᴛs ᴏғ ʙʟᴜᴇ, ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʙʟᴏᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀᴄʀᴏss ᴍʏ ʀɪʙs, ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇs ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴛʜɪɢʜs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʟᴠᴇs. A ғᴇᴡ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢᴀsʜᴇs ᴅᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴀs ʙᴀᴅ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀsʜ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ.

I ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɴ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ Wᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɪɴs ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴜʙʙʟᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sʟᴀᴍᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ɪᴛ.

Sʏʟᴜs ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɢʀᴀsᴘ, ʜɪs ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴄᴀʟᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴢᴇ ɪɴsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ɪɴᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴜᴛʟɪɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ʙʀᴜɪsᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, sᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴜɴᴛᴀʀʏ sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴇ. Hɪs ʟɪᴘs ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ɢʀɪᴍ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴜʀʏ.

"Yᴏᴜ ᴅɪsᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪɴ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴇʀs, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ."

"I'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ," I ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴏᴀᴋ, ᴍʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴀʀsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴇᴍʙʟɪɴɢ. Gᴏᴏsᴇʙᴜᴍᴘs ʀᴏsᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ ᴀs ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀᴛɪᴘs ɢʜᴏsᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇs. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴅ ɪɴ ʜɪs ɢᴀᴢᴇ ᴀs ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ sᴀᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ. Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴀʀᴍ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴋᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ. I ᴄʀɪᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ ғʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ʜɪs ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ ғʀᴀᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ, ᴘɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.

Hᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ʜᴏᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜsʟʏ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ɴᴇᴄᴋ. “Yᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʟᴇss ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ,” ʜᴇ sᴀɪᴅ, ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘᴀʟᴘᴀʙʟᴇ. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ sᴇᴇ ʜɪs ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪᴛʏ ᴏғ ʜɪs ʀᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴜɴᴅᴇɴɪᴀʙʟᴇ, ʀᴀᴅɪᴀᴛɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴀɴɢɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ. I ᴡᴀs ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʏᴢᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғᴇᴀʀ, ᴛᴏᴏ ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏʀ sᴘᴇᴀᴋ. Hɪs ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀs ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡʜᴇʟᴍɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴋɴᴇᴡ I sᴛᴏᴏᴅ ɴᴏ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ I ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ.

“Aɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.” Hɪs ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ, ɢʟɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʜɪs ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴄᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇʟʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ, ʜɪs ɢʀɪᴘ ғɪʀᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ. “Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ,” ʜᴇ ʜɪssᴇᴅ, ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴇᴀʀ. “Aᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍᴇ. Bᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴍʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ.” Hɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ, ᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴛᴇʀʀɪғʏɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ. “Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.”

Hɪs ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡ���s ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴍʏ sᴋɪɴ, ʜɪs ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʙᴏᴛʜ sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍɪɴɢ. Tʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴀs sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʏɪᴇʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴀs ʜɪs ɢʀɪᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜʟʟ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs ᴘʀᴇssɪɴɢ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇғɪᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴍʏ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʜᴀᴅ sᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ʜɪᴍ—ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴡ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ.

[kradeelav]

i .... just doodled all of this in like 15 minutes and that bottom background free-handed, entirely upside down....

holy shit (a) this background theory actually works and

(b) i am about to become invincible with backgrounds

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

watching fandaniel go is wild because he is just [vestibular stims] [vestibular stims] [vestibular stims] [vestibular stims] and yeah man that's a mood

[slashingdisneypasta]

I was looking at your post of which Disney Princes the Weasels would be, and it got me thinking; which princesses would our gals/their S/O's would be? I hope this assessment puts a grin on your face XD and that I got your OC's right ^^

Lottie: Mulan. There was no hesitation in my mind with this one. Tough, badass, and military trained, but also loves her family to pieces. And they both got silly sidekicks too XD (Mulan has Mushu and Cricky, and Lottie has her unkles and cousins XD)

Shiny: I feel like Megera is the best candidate, even if she isn't an official disney princess. They're both sarcastic queens who have troubled histories, especially with men, and they both are soft inside ^^ and they both know how to seduce to get what they want, even if Meg hadn't been successful with Hercules in the way she expected.

Jane Doe: ... Sleeping Beauty, because they both are hiding from evil forces and don't appear so often? I'm sorry! I know Jane deserves more 😭😅 if it helps, it's also because I think they're both underrated (Sleeping Beauty was/is actually my favorite princess, despite how people feel about her and her movie). Another candidate I offer is Nala, as they are both are the half of their relationships that bring the best out of their partner, and are playful but also level-headed and focus on what's most important (Jane Doe on keeping Teddy safe, and Nala on bringing peace and order back to the pride lands)

(This moment between Nala and Simba definitely happened between Jane and Wheezy. You can't convince me otherwise XD ^^)

Poppy: I was gonna say Cinderella, but then I remembered that Psycho is Lucifer the cat, and got sad because that'd mean he'd be mean to her and make her life harder (and she would threaten him with a broom) 🥲😆 but that's fine, because I think Snow White is her best fit; they both are comparatively naive to the others, they both have messed up things either happening to them or that have happened to them. They both befriended a group of rowdy bachelors who would chase a wicked witch off a cliff for them, etc. And Poppy wishes she could sing in a well about her love life and her soulmate would appear like Snow XD (Also, something I've wanted to write is Percy and Penny watching Snow White for the first time and saying that their mother looks like a rabbit Snow White- and in turn asking dad if that makes him prince charming XD ^^)

(☝️This old lady Rena trying to seduce Poppy? I'm sorry I'll stop-)

Rena: She ain't a disney princess. I won't let those big blue eyes fool me. She's a wicked old queen. Rena and Yzma are both wicked, fabulous, crazy oldies with impeccable fashion taste. They both have weapons in equally sus and convenient(?) places. They both have very clear types (I'm with you; Yzma hired Kronk not just for a henchman), and can get people quickly on their side (Rena is more friendly than Yzma, but you saw how quickly Yzma got the palace under control... Granted, that's probably partially due to them not caring about Kuzco's 'death', but my point still stands-)

These are my votes! If I got your OC's wrong, I apologize xD but this was fun to do! ^^

I love these so much!!!

Especially Jane Doe as Nala and Rena and YZMAAAAAA absolutely perfect and I love it so so so much XDD

And hey, maybe Poppy should threaten Peycho with a broom in some of our AU's 😅😅😅😆 Even the regular timeline.

OMG!! That Percy and Penny bit is so CUTE! XD I must know how Psycho would respond to that XD I must have Smartass, Greasy or Wheezy walk by and laugh-

And Shiny as Meg <3<3<3 I feel so soft about that. Obviously that is perfect XD ^^

Thank you so so much for sharing!!

[asfdhgsdkjhgb]

guys i need to be dancing at a house party tipsy with someone im attracted to so bad btw. ive never been to a house party in real life (though id quite like to at least once) but i really have been desperately needing that specific (probably awful for me) sensory and social environment so bad lately

[rosicheeks]

What would be your perfect date? 😊

First date? Probably just a classic dinner at a restaurant or homemade meal. I want to get all dolled up and they actually dress up too and we spend the time getting to know each other.

[gurorori]

anyway.. yumemiru architecture & omnia vincit amor..

[killjoy-prince]

Surprise manga haul!

[milo-is-rambling]

Whoop whoop it’s cold enough to use the blanket that smells like a mix between my dog and kettle corn hell yeah

[buysomecheese]

Kenny finds TV Girl in high school and introduces the songs to Stan and Kyle (they dropped Cartman because fuck that man fr)

Kyle gets super obsessed but hides it as much as possible because it's "incel music" and also he's gay so why would he like music about being in love with/having sex with women so much no he doesn't cry to these songs once every other month-

Stan doesn't really care, it's not his type of music, but he does like Not Allowed (he really likes the line about "horny poets" for some reason)

[sar3nka]

Wait I had a shower and remembered the rest of my dream. This is. Something.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Hello good morning, for my 21st birthday I got my nose pierced and that was super fun, I like celebrating my more adult birthdays with more adult things, and my 23rd birthday is coming up and I'm looking for another piercing. I have a nostril piercing and both lobes rn. Anyone have any suggestions? Preferably for an ear piercing.

[navybrat817]

Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[floorpancakes]

akawata

kavetham

wangxian

the girls from she loves to cook and she loves to eat

these ships and more occupy a part of my brain that's labelled 'somewhat douwatacore so you can gain mildly adjacent but fun and unique vibes' in scribbled sharpie