#i support him wanting to bleed all his enemies out

[lonelysatoru]

zoro is kinda evil yall idk

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

three times

a/n:��some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang. 

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to. 

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you. 

“This her?” one of them grumbled. 

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating. 

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked. 

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.” 

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding. 

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own. 

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?” 

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table. 

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves. 

“What happened?” you asked carefully. 

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.” 

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. 

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.” 

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two. 

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal. 

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?” 

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up. 

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession. 

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table. 

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?” 

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.” 

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…” 

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.  

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone. 

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…” 

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.” 

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?” 

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.” 

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.” 

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile. 

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.” 

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual. 

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.” 

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly. 

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more. 

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways. 

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–” 

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run. 

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital. 

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.” 

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly. 

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel. 

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…” 

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night… 

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper. 

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?” 

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.” 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement. 

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.” 

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…” 

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom. 

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit. 

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed. 

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen. 

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now. 

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral. 

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.” 

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped. 

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly. 

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?” 

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss. 

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional. 

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches. 

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees. 

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. 

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?” 

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.  

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded. 

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables. 

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him. 

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing. 

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space. 

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition. 

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?” 

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat. 

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?” 

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression. 

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug. 

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him. 

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?” 

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.” 

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?” 

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.” 

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared. 

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.  

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.” 

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long. 

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body. 

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself. 

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat. 

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms. 

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows. 

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of. 

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water. 

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow. 

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest. 

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.” 

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest. 

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.” 

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat. 

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate. 

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.” 

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter. 

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such. 

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack. 

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone. 

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.” 

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?” 

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.” 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together. 

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently. 

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it. 

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin. 

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better. 

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next. 

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon. 

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs. 

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps. 

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors. 

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly. 

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door. 

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination. 

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit. 

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both. 

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently. 

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.” 

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon. 

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall. 

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable. 

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear. 

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head. 

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused. 

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind. 

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear. 

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head. 

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…” 

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice. 

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder. 

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…” 

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips. 

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder. 

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame. 

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle. 

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape. 

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark. 

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered. 

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done. 

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire. 

“And?” Bucky fished. 

“For hurting you…” 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm. 

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest. 

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky. 

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.  

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him. 

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply. 

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed. 

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better. 

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge. 

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room. 

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame. 

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you. 

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses. 

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed. 

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?” 

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie. 

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core. 

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul. 

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…” 

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you. 

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips. 

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…” 

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body. 

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.” 

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge. 

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission. 

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity. 

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below. 

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you. 

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?” 

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base. 

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch. 

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you. 

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy. 

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you. 

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit. 

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!” 

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum. 

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth. 

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?” 

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity. 

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him. 

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile. 

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you. 

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him. 

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…” 

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.  

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[buckyalpine]

A one shot where Bucky doesn’t like the reader and makes her life at the compound a little rough? Like enemies (maybe to lover or friends?) and she is like the sunshine personality 🥺🥺🥺

I live for this shit This type of angst where he's mean and finds her annoying even though she's a sweetheart, ugh, yes. YES.

Bucky groaned, trying to ignore the shooting pain that seared in his abdomen, clutching an old t-shirt to stop the bleeding from the stab wound he'd received during his latest mission.

"You good there, terminator?" Sam cocked an eyebrow watching Bucky unconvincingly nod, grunting a half assed yes before squeezing his eyes shut and flopping back on the seat.

"You're gonna need stiches" Steve snorted, shaking his head at his stubborn friend.

"I'm fine" Bucky gritted out, preferring to bleed out on the jet instead of going to the med bay where he'd be surrounded by doctors and needles and if he was really unlucky, you.

"Seriously? That's the second shirt you've bled through, I don't think the serum's gonna cut it, punk" Steve sighed, knowing how Bucky felt about getting medical care but it wasn't like he had a choice. As soon as the jet landed, Bucky was shoved in the direction of the medical wing, pouting and grumpy as he limped with Steve supporting him. Bucky frowned when Steve pushed him to lay down on the examination table, grumbling and wincing under his breath.

"You stay here. I'm gonna finish writing up our reports, don't go sneaking off" Steve chuckled, giving his friend's shoulder a squeeze before leaving. The soldier stared up at the florescent lights, his eyes anxiously darting about the room, hoping and praying that at the very least he wouldn't have to deal with-

"Good afternoon Bucky!"

For fucks sake.

Bucky groaned at the chirpy voice that piped up from the door, his brows knotted together from frustration.

He hated it. You'd ask about his day as if he wasn't there go get sewn up. You'd talk to him like you'd known him for years, almost oblivious to the fact that he was a former brain washed assassin. Every time he saw you, you were so giggly and pretty and bouncy and cute and happy and it irked his soul because it was to the point it was unnecessary. I mean you were just so kind and sweet to everyone as if everyone deserved such amazingness from such a wonderful person, okay that's enough Bucky.

The world wasn't fucking sunshine and rainbows and he had no idea why you acted like it was.

"Steve said you needed a few stitches so-

"Where's Dr. Cho" Bucky cut you off, hoping anyone else would help him so he could get on with his day, willing to take the needle and thread himself instead of having you do it while talking his ear off.

"Oh, she's with another patient right now but it's fine, I promise I'll get you out of here soon, do you mind if I remove your vest-

"Yeah, I got it" Bucky huffed, wincing to get his gear off but you stopped him, urging him to stay down.

"No, it's okay, I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, I'll cut it off, don't worry"

Bucky nodded, lying back down while you grabbed a tray with medical supplied, carefully cutting around the blood soaked material and discarding it. You cleaned the area, mumbling apologies incase the alcohol caused any pain, moving on to closing the cut.

"I heard about the mission you all went on. I can't even imagine going through all that, it sounded terrifying. You're very brave Sargent" You smiled, tossing your gloves aside after patching Bucky up. Bucky grunted as he hopped off the table without a word, ready to whack Steve on the head for telling you of all people he needed help.

"If you need anything else, let me know! Just get some rest for a few days, it'll heal soon-

"I know" Bucky walked out of the room without looking back, his shoulders relaxing when he was far away from he med wing. There was truly no reason for him to be this annoyed but he was tired, in pain and he knew for a fact there would be a pile of papers for him to fill out in the conference room.

You didn't take Bucky's grumpy attitude to heart, understanding the stress that came with going on missions, getting injured every time coupled with the fact that he was probably still healing from his own past. You put away the supplies before taking a coffee break, running into a very excited Tony along the way.

"Hey cupcake, just who I was looking for, do you like chocolate or vanilla"

"Tony, I told you, you don't have to-

"That doesn't answer the question. Pick one or the other or both or another flavor, all the flavours, but give me something"

You giggled at the way he looked at you expectantly, sighing seeing as he wouldn't let up until you answered.

"I'm not picky, you know I'd love anything. Get something everyone would like, seriously, I don't even need all this, I'm just the nurse-

"Stop that right now, there's no one else like you" Tony huffed, planting a quick kiss your head before texting his caterers about everything he wanted, ensuring everything was perfect, especially when it came to you.

-

You woke up to the sun streaming through the curtains, stretching before getting out of bed and padding over to the bathroom to go through your morning routine. You had the day off, throwing on your joggers instead of your typical scrubs and making your way down to the kitchen, grabbing ingredients for baking.

You hummed, scooping out spoons of cookie batter, plopping it onto the tray and throwing it into the oven, cleaning up the area in between, waiting for the oven timer to go off. You set the chocolate chip cookies onto a tray, piping the last bit of icing onto the top and sweeping away the smidges of frosting that got onto the counter.

Bucky blinked at the smell of baking, making his way to the kitchen for some water after a run. He groaned, nearly walking right back out when he saw you singing to yourself, arranging cookies in a circle, each one decorated for a different person in the tower.

"Good morning Bucky" You smiled while he mumbled, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, "I-I made made cookies for everyone, did you want one?" You asked hopefully, looking at the little dog tags you'd piped on the cookie you made for him while he shrugged in response.

"Why do you keep trying so hard, do you not have any friends?" Bucky scoffed, ignoring the fresh plate of cookies that sat on the counter, not caring that your face had fallen. He wanted to strike a nerve, feeling a sick satisfaction at the way you silenced yourself, giving him the peace and quiet he wanted.

"S-sorry, I just thought-

"You thought what?" Buck cocked an eyebrow, the tick in his jaw making your stomach churn.

"Nothing, sorry" You mumbled, turning back to continue cleaning while he chugged the rest of the bottle. "I've just leave them here if you want one later on-

"No, I don't want one now and I don't think I'll want one later either" Bucky glared at you, tired of you always trying to do things for others as if anyone asked.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't-" you bit your lip hard to keep from crying, not wanting to annoy Bucky more.

"Why do you always act like everything great? Like we don't come back from almost dying, risking our lives while you go about like the world is perfect"

"I just-I didn't mean-

"You didn't mean what, to be annoying? Did anyone even ask for this?" Bucky nodded to the cookies while you shook your head, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, not realizing others also probably found you annoying.

"I-it was my birthday, I thought-" you sniffled, choking back a whimper, "I wanted to do something nice - never mind" You bit your lip to keep from breaking down, blinking back tears as you scurried off to your room, without looking back.

The initial satisfaction Bucky was short lived as he stood in the now empty kitchen, tossing the bottle aside. The plate caught his eye once more as he walked by, reluctantly stopping to look at each one, your skilled hands decorating each one with clean details. He instantly spotting the one you made for him which had been dusted with silver just like his tags; he had no idea how you managed to get his name and number piped to precisely.

Not that it mattered.

Bucky continued to make his way to the gym, feeling a little bad that he made you cry but he figured you'd get over soon enough, after all that seemed to be your strong suit, you were always happy and smiling anyway.

-

"You're coming tonight, right?" Steve dropped the weights he was curling while Bucky frowned, unsure of what the captain was referring to.

"Why, what's tonight" Bucky grunted, still in the middle of his set.

"Seriously, Tony told us like a month ago"

"Yeah, fine" Bucky huffed, not really caring what it was about, knowing he'd be dragged to go regardless. He finished the rest of his workout, retreating back to his room to shower. He flopped onto his bed after, grabbing a book from his bedside table seeing as there was still plenty of time till he had to get ready.

The book had been a Christmas present from you and as much as he hated to admit it, it was perfect and one of his favorites. He tried to focus on the words, feeling bad again thinking about how your face had fallen earlier when all you did was offer him a cookie.

Maybe he went a little overboard with his reaction...

Bucky shook the guilt he felt, hoping that you'd be running around somewhere getting ready for whatever tonight was.

-

"Where's y/n" Sam looked around the room seeing everyone else present but you, the night in full swing seeing as Tony had gone all out as usual "I swear she said she'd be here, this is literally her birthday party"

"I didn't see her" Nat frowned, putting down the drink she was sipping on, scanning the room again, "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen her all day"

Bucky felt a deep pang in his chest when he realized the party was for you, his stomach twisting in knots.

"Where's our birthday girl" Steve asked as he joined the others, the guilt making Bucky feel even more sick. He ran a hand over his face while the others continued to wonder where you were. "I hope she isn't working, she deserves a day off, she already worked over time for 3 months straight when we were running back to back missions"

Bucky remembered that.

They'd all been sent out on missions spread across different months and you'd been the one on call to patch them up the entire time. You hadn't complained once even through you were thoroughly sleep deprived. At the time Bucky was annoyed you were in such an upbeat mood when they were all scraping by but you had been struggling yourself.

"I fucked up" Bucky groaned, feeling awful for how he'd treated you in the morning and for how he'd been acting towards you in general.

"Why, what did you do" Steve's face twisted in confusion while Bucky's face reddened in embarrassment. Steve was aware Bucky complained about you but he figured it was because his bestfriend got flustered around the pretty nurse, he'd seen Bucky get tongue tied plenty of times whenever you walked by.

"You were a grumpy asshole to y/n, weren't you" Sam frowned seeing Bucky's guilty face. The soldier didn't say another word, leaving the group to find you instead, debating on getting Steve to clock him in the jaw first. Bucky ran to the elevator, pushing the button to your floor, hoping he'd see you making your way down, only to find the hallway empty. His heart broke hearing the soft sniffles coming from your room, the door closed. He gently knocked on the door, your cries quieting down as if you'd silenced yourself to pretend you were asleep instead of opening the door.

"Y/n?" Bucky called for you only to be met with more silence, "Can-can you please open the door?" His heart started to beat faster when he head your footsteps approaching the door, clicking the lock open; you were still in your joggers from earlier, your face puffy from crying.

All because of him.

"Sorry, I fell asleep" you lied, keeping your face trained on your feet, worried Bucky had come to yell at you about the party Tony had thrown for you, "and I'm sorry about the party, you didn't have to go if you didn't want to, I promise I didn't tell Tony you had to come, I know you don' like me-

"No, no baby no, stop" Bucky hushed you, his heart breaking when your voice cracked, rambling out apologies. His body moved on its own, wrapping his arms around you while you started to cry again, rocking you while holding you to his chest. "Please don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you have nothing to apologize for doll, nothing at all"

Bucky held you tightly while your body shook, feeling sick with himself for how he'd been treating you. You'd never been anything short of sweet and he'd made a point of always letting you know he couldn't care less. He lifted you in his arms, walking over to your bed, sitting down with you in his lap, ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

"I didn't mean to be so annoying" You shrugged, fidgeting with your fingers, the light that always made your eyes twinkle dimmed from Bucky's words.

"Y/n, please, no" Bucky whispered, pleading with you to stop. "Don't doll. It was never ever you, please let me apologize. I've been awful to you, you've done nothing wrong. You've always been an angel, sweets, it's me whose been an annoying asshole. I don't deserve your kindness but that's never stopped you from giving it to me when I least deserved it"

"You deserve kindness Bucky" you gave him a small smile, one that didn't meet your eyes and Bucky felt his eyes sting. Even when he was the one in the wrong, you were still comforting him with your sweetness.

"Y/n, I don't know anyone that deserves the sort of kindness you give. I don't know anyone that would deserve someone as wonderful as you. You're a light for everyone when its dark. I was a fuckin' idiot for everything I've ever said to you. That isn't an excuse for how I've been treating you doll, I know that. It's just- I've been awful to you and you've never done anything wrong. I'm truly sorry sweets"

"Its okay Bucky" You whispered, reaching up to wipe the tear that streaked down his face, your cheeks heating up when you realized you were still in his lap, "S-sorry, I didn't realize-

Bucky shook his head, holding you securely in his lap, not wanting to let you go.

"You have nothing to apologize for, pretty girl" Bucky shrugged, loosening his hold in case you wanted to get off but your doe eyes darted around instead, settling further in his lap. "You really are like sunshine"

"You're very charming, Sargent" you smiled bashfully while Bucky chuckled, his heart beating erratically in his chest when your hands came up to toy with the tags that hung around his neck.

"Would it-would it be if I kissed you?" He whispered shyly, blushing when you nodded, pressing his soft lips to yours. Bucky took his time kissing you, pouring every ounce of his feelings with soft touches, holding onto you like porcelain.

"Everyone's waiting for you sweets" Bucky gave you a gentle squeeze, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, hoping that you'd still want to go to your own party. "Would you like to go downstairs?"

You slinked off Bucky's lap to get ready, the soldier watching you with heart eyes the entire time you did your hair and makeup. He knew he had a lot to make up for, starting with the fact that he'd never hurt you again. He was still upset with himself for ever hurting you in the first place but he was ready to protect your innocent heart for the rest of his life. His breath hitched in his throat when you finished applying the last of your gloss, blushing when you slipped your hand into his so he could lead you down.

"Theres our cupcake!" Tony grinned when he saw you approaching, the rest of the team cheering making you giggle. Steve smirked seeing Bucky follow closely behind you in protective mode, keeping his hand around your waist. He spent the entire time, doting on you, following you like a lost puppy.

By the end of the night, he had you in his lap again, shamelessly looking at you with heart eyes while the rest of the team watched curiously, his sole focus on you.

"Happy birthday sweet girl" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek while you nuzzled into him with a shy smile, "My little sunshine"

-

Now imagine Bucky doesn't quickly get over the fact that he was a dick. Sure you forgave him because you're an absolute sweetheart but Bucky can't even deal with the way he'd acted, especially when he had a crush on you the entire time and just refused to acknowledge it, acting like a cunt instead.

He's the most lovestuck boyfriend to ever exist. Your office is always full of fresh flowers. He's a clingy little puppy, outside of the medwing until your done, always finding excuses to sneak in and see you. You had to tell him a papercut wasn't a good enough reason for him to request your services.

Neither was a stubbed toe.

The time he nicked himself while shaving was the worst because he was pouty until you kissed him better.

He slips his dog tags around you, his possessive/jealous side occasionally sneaking out.

He doesn't even hide the fact that he's a simp for you, knowing he's the luckiest person on the planet to get the sweetest person in the world. He shows your off like no tomorrow, proud of the angel he gets to call his.

He absolutely loved his sunshine.

[luvvyouforever]

headcanons : harry potter boys x keeper!reader

↳ harry, ron, draco, neville, fred, george, remus, and sirius with a partner who can wield ancient magic (hogwarts legacy style).

↳ requests are open! submit ideas, drabbles, headcanons, or one shots to the link in my bio! don’t be shy <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

harry potter:

-thinks it is the coolest shit ever! when you're in a fight together and you protect him by shooting a powerful blue bolt towards the enemy that disintegrates their very beginning, he feels so proud to be your partner!

-on the other side, he also knows it feels like to have a lot of pressure and power on your side. he worries about what it must feel like to wield ancient magic and be the only living person who can see it. every time you use it, he checks on you after, ensuring that you don't feel too exhausted and can continue fighting.

-supported you so much through the trials. he didn't need to know every detail of what you did and went through but he would hold you so tight when you came back, praising you over and over for being so strong and brave.

ron weasley:

-he's a little jealous, ngl. like his partner can use this sick magic and is responsible for keeping the magic safe and alive out of the wrong hands?? why can't he do that???

-i also feel like ron would be confused, if not a little angry, that you refuse to share the power and attempt what others have before (such as isidora using the magic to remove pain). he doesn't really understand the problem and feels like the keepers are suspicious.

-he'd brag about you alllllll the time though! like oh my god every second he would find some way to bring up the fact that you can do really awesome things and that you are his awesome partner forever!

draco malfoy:

-draco loves you a lot and finds your magic incredibly cool, don't get me wrong, but i think his family swayed his pursuit of you because wouldn't it be so grand if the malfoys had a keeper in their family? someone so powerful and knowledgeable? who would pass down the truth and their magic? yes please! (every time narcissa brings it up, it irks draco but also he pats himself on the shoulder for choosing you)

-wants to know every detail about the trials and the past and the memories you're viewing! you'll come back from a trial, sweaty and tired, maybe bleeding, and he'd help you first then ask hundreds of questions after.

-your use of ancient magic is not necessarily unknown and makes you quite popular among the students of hogwarts. this, however, makes draco really jealous. if he could, he would follow you everywhere, glaring down anyone who tries to make a move on you. before you go on adventures, classes, or just to the common room, he'll drape you in his slytherin scarf as if he was marking you.

neville longbottom:

-poor thing gets so nervous when you have to complete the trials or do something incredibly important for the sake of keeping the magic safe. he knows he can't go along with you but he'd stay by your side until the very moment you enter the map chamber, whispering praises and support the whole time.

-would heal up all your wounds and take care of you if you exerted too much during a fight. he knows how much everyone depends on you and the least he can do is take care of you properly! he would run you a bath, apply soothing balms to your skin or use his plants to heal you up, and cuddle you tightly!

-tries his hardest to not feel useless but sometimes it's hard when you're so strong and he's so...not. of course you'll always reassure him and give him the confidence he needs but very frequently, he gets really down on himself about it.

fred weasley:

-every day he comes to you with a new scheme that involves your magic. could you make a portal that leads from the dungeons of hogwarts to the top of the astronomy tower? it's important. snape is gonna get really mad when he goes into his office? can your magic fix that?

-begs, and i mean BEGS, you to let him come along on your adventures and battles. he wants nothing more than to support you and fight along your side! as long it's not a trial, you can't help but let him come along. you usually end up saving him after he pays a little more attention to the way your whip around the battle, taking down everyone effortlessly.

-speaking of paying too much attention to you, he thinks it is so attractive than you can do what you do! he gives you some time after fighting to recuperate but then immediately he is ON you. he's kissing you and telling you how hot it is when you turn someone to just particles.

george weasley:

-he wants you to teach him everything you can. there are some things that are just simply innate and can not be taught but all your tips and tricks when it comes to fighting will now be all of his tips and tricks. you two would just find some field away from the burrow and go at it, sending spell after spell at each other. georgie is just overflowing with adrenaline and it's a great way to get it out.

-deep down, a part of him wants to be protective of you. he wants to keep you from going out into danger and taking on dangerous tasks all for magic and some old people telling you what to do. but he knows better, trust me. he knows you can defend yourself just fine but he just wants to put you in a little bubble and never let anything hurt you.

-just like ron, he will brag about you whenever he can. everyone is sitting around the great hall table, talking about how it's so cool that you defeated a troll in one fell swoop and he just wraps his arm around your shoulders, a glimmer in his eye as he proceeds to say "yeah, aren't they just so amazing?"

remus lupin:

-fears for your health and safety so much! when you come back from a trial, he's hushing you and putting you in bed, feeding you chocolate and brewing tea until you feel better!! you are bearing the weight of centuries old magic all alone. the least he can do is take care of you!

-supports your decisions throughout your entire journey as a keeper. if you truly believe that releasing ancient magic to the world and using it for more than the original keepers intended, then he understands. if you want to continue to keep it hidden, he will not question your judgement.

-this is so fluffy but i feel like you figured out how to manipulate your ancient magic to floating, bright blue scenes and pictures. around remus's time of the month (said lovingly), you'll lay in bed with him and use your wand to paint pictures of animals, lakes, waves, stars, or, in more sappy moments, your future.

sirius black:

-he thinks it is SO hot that you can take someone down without barely blinking an eye. his favorite move you do is when you lift someone into the air and slam them down repeatedly. gets blushy and turned on excited every time.

-once followed you down into the map chamber only to be very harshly yelled at by one of the keeper's portraits. he just wanted to see what it looked like and to know where you go on dangerous missions!! who can blame him, truly? definitely grumbled the whole rest of the day.

-when you two get married, he refuses to let you take his last name and instead will either take yours or say screw it and come up with one! he doesn't want his family to have the gratification of having a keeper with the black family name. he wants you to shine for who you are and in another century, he wants your name to be yours, not his.

[surielstea]

Worried Mates

1k celebration request by @mira-says

Pairing: Poly!Bat Boys x Valkyrie!Reader

Summary: Reader gets badly injured and her three mates fuss over her.

Warnings: Light gore | canon-typical violence | injury | hurt/comfort | fluff | angst | happy ending

A.Note: This takes place during the war between humans and fae 500 years before the events of ACoTaR, Reader is a Valkyrie Commander.

2.1k words

"Gods—" I grunt, gripping my aching side. The war between mortals and fae was raging, and it seemed that it wouldn't be stopping any time soon.

When my half-sister, Miryam, had told me that she planned on fleeing with Prince Drakon once the war was over I thought she must've been insane. I only wanted joy for my sister of course, but it was foolish of her to think the two of them could have their happy ending after helping initiate this war.

But now, bleeding out and surrounded by enemies I was starting to understand the appeal of leaving everyone behind and escaping with my mates. I was at death's doorstep, too tired to even lift my sword, and I wanted nothing more than to be in the arms of the males I loved most.

I watched all my companions die off, my friends, Valkyrie's far better than me dying before me. It wasn't right.

I was the commander of the Valkyrie units, and now they're gone. Commander of no one because I failed them all by leading them into a war I knew we couldn't win.

An armed fae charged towards me, his sword held high as he screamed like a madman.

I tightened my grip on my shield and used his momentum against him, his sword clanging hard to the Illyrian steel of my shield as I pushed it back into him. He tumbled to the ground under the weight of it and with the sharp point of my shield I thrusted it straight into his chest. He fell limp.

A battle cry sounded from behind me and I groaned, every inch of my body protesting any further movement. I unsheathed my heavy sword while turning around to face a hulking male, lifting it up in challenge.

He swings first, his scarlet-covered blade meeting mine. He was much stronger than me, bigger too but he was slow. He pushed hard and my aching arms strained under the pressure. I steadied my breathing and pushed his blade away from me. He came back swinging with twice the force, going right for my head. I bent back, my spine screaming at me as his blade swung just above my nose, the sharpness of it slicing into a rogue hair that had strayed from its braid.

With the remaining energy I honed, I thrust my sword into the male's chest. He yelped, his sword clattering to the ground, and with one last attempt to gut me, he swung to grab me with his free hand. I screamed as I felt a searing pain in my side. I looked down to find a large knife embedded into my torso. When I looked back to the male he twisted the knife and I felt as if my entire body was set aflame. I clenched my teeth together as I plunged my sword into his chest again, and when I pulled it out he was already in the dirt, receiving the same fate as his comrades.

My knees buckled as I looked at my side again, blood pooling at my feet as it ran down my leg.

I dug my sword in the ground, using it for support so I could at least stay standing. My entire left side felt paralyzed as I continued to lose that precious scarlet liquid.

I squeezed my eyes shut before forcing them open, my vision bleary as I grew increasingly dizzy.

In the distance, I saw another armed soldier charging at me. For a moment I debated letting him have my life, it was soon nearing a close anyway.

But I hadn’t trained for years to be cut down by a measly foot soldier, hadn’t clawed and scraped my way through ranks to die by a stranger's hand. I curse, deciding that I wouldn't go out in forfeit, I would die fighting or I would not die at all. With only my right arm I lifted my sword up toward the sky, ready to strike.

But just as he was about to reach me a gleam of red flashed and the soldier's head went flying in the opposite direction of his body. Directly in front of me stood a male, glowing in red, my vision began to darken at the corners but I could recognize those wings anywhere. "Oh thank the gods," I sighed in pure relief, falling to my knees as Cassian ran forward to catch me before my head could hit the hard ground. He spotted the gushing wound in my side immediately, then looked at my dilated pupils.

“Hey, sweetheart,” He rasped, his voice raw from shouting commands at soldiers over the fields. “Cass,” I hum his name, the familiarity of it bringing me a warm feeling. I was glad to see he was unharmed. “Lean on me,” He says while gently brushing my stubborn hairs away from my sweat, and most likely blood, lined forehead.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Was all I managed to hear from him before darkness consumed me and my vision blackened entirely.

When I cracked my eyes open I immediately winced at the harsh light of the room I was being kept in. The sound of frustrated voices registered first, then the smell of lavender, and the softness of the pillow behind my head, and then finally my vision came. I spotted Rhysand and Cassian first, quietly bickering over something I couldn’t find in myself to care for. They were both changed from their armor, cleansed from the blood and dirt of the war. Even though they both looked clean and seemed how they always did I could tell something was off. Their wings were terse and the bags beneath their eyes were prominent.

It took a lot to mar the beauty of a Fae male, especially the two of them, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen them more distressed.

They continued their hushed argument, oblivious to the fact that I had woken up so I cast my eyes elsewhere, toward the third male in the room who had his head tilted downward, his scarred hands in his lap. He stared at those scars, his shaky hands making it seem like he’d done something wretched, so horrid he somehow didn’t think it probable that it was done with his own hands.

My brows creased, all three of them were in sorrow, and whether it was because I was bedridden or it was simply the after-effects of the war I was unsure.

“Good morning,” Is all I can think to say. It was casual, a little hoarse, but simple.

The room fell silent and all three heads snapped towards me. Their lips all formed tight straight lines as they bored their eyes into me.

I couldn’t tell if it was shock or relief, perhaps both.

A large smile cracks across my lips. “Were you guys worried about me?” I suggest, raising my brows accusingly.

“Gods,” A large figure crashes into me and I groan. Cassian clings to me tightly, hugging me into his warm chest. “Of course, we were worried,” He whispers, as if afraid he’d break this moment by speaking any louder.

“You’re crushing her, Cass,” Rhys says from behind him and I chuckle, looking at the violet-eyed male and giving him a gentle smirk which he matched. I pulled away from Cassian’s embrace first and he reluctantly let go of me.

“I’m sorry love,” Azriel sighed, his hand coming to intertwine with my fingers. “Sorry for what Az?” My brows crease.

“My shadows should’ve been with you, I could’ve stopped that soldier from hurting you—” The Illyrian starts but Cassian cuts him off.

“No Az it’s my fault, I should have been there sooner. I should have taken that dagger not her—” He tried but this time it was Rhys to cut him off.

“Both of you stop being ridiculous, I was the one that allowed her to fight, it was my mistake from the beginning,” The High Lord asserts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My gods, do you three ever quit taking the blame for everything?” I looked pointedly at Rhys when I spoke. “I would’ve commanded the Valkyries to fight alongside you whether it was cleared or not,” I confess and Rhys subtly frowns at that, the unspoken question of me being the last Valkyrie was now answered with that expression. A wave of shame passed over me, but I pushed it aside for now, deciding to spend this moment with my three very paranoid, but very alive mates.

“I’m fine,” I give Azriel’s hand a squeeze.

“Madja said if the blade went even a fraction deeper it would’ve been fatal,” The blue siphoned male argued, and my brows bunch.

“But it didn’t,” I state.

“But it could have,” He snarled and I had never seen him so angry, so scared.

My eyes softened and I let a soft smile grace my features. “Az,” I whispered, attempting to bring him comfort to remind him I was alive and healthy.

Azriel was the first of the three that I bonded with, we’ve always had a different connection because of it. I’ll love all of them equally no matter what, but it left Azriel to be more protective of me than the other two.

He stands suddenly, our hands still tangled. “You nearly died, you nearly abandoned us for a place where we aren’t allowed to join you,” He snapped and my heart ached at the pained look on his face. I would’ve been furious too if it were him on the brink of death, I would’ve found a way to steal him back from death itself if that treacherous event were to come.

“Azriel,” Cassian snapped at the male but I held a hand up, waving him off.

I sat up, my side screamed at me in protest but I ignored it. I wore my softest white nightgown, only realizing it once I stood from the bed, slightly unsteady but upright nonetheless. I narrow my gaze at Azriel.

“I am here, I am alive,” I say. “A little scratched up but I don’t think Rhys will let me out in the field anytime soon,” I smile and Rhys shifts behind me.

“You heard that right,” The High Lord grumbled under his breath and I tossed him a glance over my shoulder.

I look back to Azriel, reaching for his other hand and holding them both. “See? I’m alright, I promise,” I look up at him lovingly and his shoulders dip in relief.

“Okay,” He nods, silently cursing himself for acting out so brashly. “You just, had me worried is all,” He excuses and I smile softly, letting go of one of his hands in favor of cupping his jaw.

“I know honey, I know,” I murmur before lifting up and placing a reassuring kiss on his lips, he returns it by bringing his free hand to my hip, pulling me closer.

“Is it just me or do you feel excluded too?” Cassian loudly whispered to Rhysand and I giggled against Azriel’s lips, pulling away and turning my head to cast a playful glare at the two piqued males, clearly attention-deprived.

“Then come over here already,” I give them an inviting smirk and they quickly scramble around the bed to reach me and it takes everything in me not to giggle at how desperate they were to be in my clutches yet again.

“One for you,” I placed my hand on Rhys’ jaw and gave him a soft peck, he barely had time to reciprocate it until I was rearing back. “And,” I grabbed Cass by his shirt. “One for you,” I gave him the same kiss.

“You taste like a coma,” The male murmured, smacking his lips and I rolled my eyes.

“You each got one, are you three satisfied now?” I arch a brow.

“Satisfied? Nowhere near it darling,” Rhys grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up and over his shoulder.

“Wait! I’m still not fully healed yet!” I yelped, banging my fists on his back playfully.

“We’ll be gentle,” Cassian reassured with a gleeful smile. I looked at Azriel but he only smirked.

“No promises,” He shrugged and I groaned, letting my body go limp as Rhys carried me towards the High Lord's chambers.

“If you guys open my stitches I’ll give all of you stitches,” I threatened but none of them seemed to care, and to be honest nothing sounded better than the idea of being cradled by three tan, very large, Illyrians after such a long war.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb

[band--psycho]

Silco x Reader - Injuries And Admissions

I know lots of people are waiting for the next part of my Vander story; I promise I am working on it, but in the meantime I thought I'd post this story based off of this request! (Thank you to the Anon who sent this request in)

This is also my first Silco story, so please be kind! 💛

I hope you all enjoy this! Reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Silco Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, being stabbed, murder, protective Silco/worried Silco, gangs/gang violence, knives

You’d been summoned to Silcos office; you assumed it would be about a job he needed you to take care of, but when you got there, you noticed that he was not sitting in the chair behind his desk as he so often was.

Instead he was in front of it, leaning against it, his gaze completely fixed on you as you walked further into the room, closer to him. 

“What happened?” 

His words caught you off guard, before realisation dawned on you about why you were really here. 

It wasn’t for a job at all.

It was about the injury you’d suffered earlier that day. 

“Who told you?” You sighed as the question fell from your lips, wondering who of the very few people that knew about your injury had informed Silco. 

You hated the fact that he knew you’d been hurt; it made you look weak. 

And you hated looking weak. 

Especially when you should've been prepared for an attack like that. 

Silco becoming the kingpin of the Undercity came with risks; you knew this, and you accepted that there was a high probability that you could get injured. 

This was your own fault. 

You’d been wandering through the Lanes, when a group came up behind you. 

There were five of them and one of you; they made it very clear that they were enemies of Silcos and  wanted to kill you to ‘send a message’.

It wasn’t long until four of them were on the floor, groaning in agony at the injuries you’d caused them. 

You were holding the member that had threatened you against the wall, your blade to his throat and a warning on your tongue. 

You should’ve killed him. 

Should’ve killed them all straight away. 

But you didn’t. 

You threw the gang member to the ground; not realising that one of the others had stumbled to their feet, until you felt a sharp pain in your side. 

Quickly you turned around and slit their throat, watching the blood pour out of him as he fell back to the ground. 

The others ran; scared that they were going to be next. And they were right to run, because with the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins in that moment, you could’ve killed them all. 

They were lucky. 

But in all honesty so were you, because the wound could’ve been much worse. 

“What happened?” He repeated, ignoring your question about who told him. 

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping that brushing off his question would stop him from asking any further questions about it; you thought he’d be mad. 

Mad that you were meant to be one of his top people and you’d been injured so easily by a gang of radicals; but you saw no fury in his eyes, just an unexplainable emotion that if it had been anyone else you would’ve classed as worry.

But this was Silco. 

Your boss.

And the only person you’d ever seen him show that type of emotion to, or any type emotion for that matter, was Jinx. 

You thought it was just your mind playing tricks on you, that was until he spoke. 

“This…” he began, taking a few steps towards you, his hand delicately hovering over the wound on your side, “isn’t nothing.”

It looked worse than it actually was; not helped by the fact that you’d sewn the wound shut yourself, but it helped the bleeding stop. 

“You should see the other guy,” you joked awkwardly, attempting to lighten the mood; but your efforts were in vain; and Silco still just continued to stare at you, awaiting an answer to his question.

It was only in the silence that you realised how close the two of you were to one another; your mind was screaming at you to move, to pull back, to keep the distance between you so that your heart wouldn’t get ahead of itself. 

But despite your mind urging you to move, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“I handled it,” you stated simply, hoping that your answer would suffice. 

It’s not like you couldn’t handle yourself, you were capable of handling situations, it was something you were used to; something you had to be used to whilst living in the Undercity where there were very few people to trust.

Today was just a mistake, one you would be sure wouldn’t happen again. 

“Oh I have no doubt about that, love, I know you’re quite capable, I just want to know what happened?”

“And why do you want to know that?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

You were confused both by the nickname he’d called you, as well as by the surprising tone of his voice as he softly said, “Because, I want to know who did this to you.”

This was a side of Silco you’d never seen before; and you didn’t quite know how to react to him. Not only were you used to his voice being firm and authoritative, instead of the gentle and empathetic voice that had said such protective words, but  you also weren’t used to his touch at all, nor were you used to the feelings it created. 

‘Why is he being like this?’ You thought to yourself; suddenly feeling the touch of his soft hand on your face; his actions only deepening your confusion, something that Silco was quick to notice.

“Is it really so surprising to think that I care for you?” His words caught you off guard. 

Yes was the simple answer. 

Why would he care for you? You were nothing special…

“Is it so surprising that I want to find the people who dared to hurt you and make sure they’re punished for it,” he continued; his eyes meeting yours, allowing you to see the honesty within them.

“Silco,” you breathed, unable to think of anything else to say; you were trying to processing his words, but yet you still remained completely confused by them. 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Y/n,” he stated simply, The hand that was on your waist remained there, whilst his free hand rose to your face, settling delicately on your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m sorry-” you rest of your quickly fell away from your mind when you heard a knock at the door; the sudden sound making you jump a little.

A small chuckle fell from Silcos lips as he reluctantly stepped away from you, he didn’t want to.

He wanted to stay that close to you, he wanted to tell you how he truly felt; but as much as he wanted to, now was not the right time. 

You needed to rest; he knew that more than you did. He could see that you were exhausted from the day you'd endured.

And he needed to sort out whatever problem had undoubtedly occurred, leading to the knock at the door.

“Stay here and rest,” he ordered, giving you a small smile before walking past you towards the door, “I’ll be back soon, we’ll talk more then.”

Those were the last words he said to you before opening the door and quickly closing it behind him, leaving you alone in his office as you tried to work out what the hell had just happened.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @nagislemontea @dazecrea @artemis0054 @ironwerewolfpeanut

[kathaynesart]

The call has ended, but the final recording still has a bit further to go.  

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Sorry these past several updates have been such downers.  I promise the next one will have some fun banter.  Can’t wait to get back to the real world with less digital effects and data dump.  I don’t know how Donnie deals with all of it. 

Below the cut I’ve added a little talk about Donnie and the way he handled this heavy conversation, something I fear might come off a little harsh without the proper context clues.  Also, below is a fun little discovery I made about Omega! 

I’ve already had a few people express how Donnie seems mean to his family in this update, which I totally understand how it can come off like that.  A certain amount of nuance is lost in this sort of comic format with neither descriptors, actual voice acting, or even Donnie’s face to give context for the way he is saying certain lines.  It’s an artistic choice I made, but one I still wish to clarify.

I see the sudden hang up as less Donnie being a jerk and more him having to cut the conversation short because he has to keep focus and he’s scared of Leo talking him down from the ledge he’s standing on.  He’s sticking to his guns and it hurts him to see how much it’s hurting his family and so all he can do is distance himself before the strong emotions cause him to make a mistake in the middle of enemy territory (placing legitimate logical concerns over emotional ones).  At the same time he is attempting to remain calm if only to try and let some of that wash onto Leo and April, because he knows if Leo freaks out too much he could risk bleeding out faster, which is why he was pressing for April to care for him first and foremost.  Were he a better liar he might have done so just to keep Leo calm a little longer, but no such luck.   Donnie holds so much love for his family, and I don’t think an apocalypse has changed that, he just has difficulty at times knowing the hierarchy of emotions expected of such a rare and dire situation and instead chooses to focus on the logical issues because at least those are some things he has certain control over. He wants to keep his family safe at all costs and if he has to cut off the last conversation he initiated and desperately wanted with his family to do so then he will.  I hope that clears some things up.  I might make this paragraph into it’s own post tomorrow for those who might have missed this update. 

On another note, I discovered something fun while researching Donnie’s screen UI!  (Extra photos under the cut:) Omega is actually in the movie (kind of)!  Look at the lil’ guy!  All sorts of dead!

Thanks as always for your support and comments, it means a ton!

[shrenvents]

hihi!!

i loved ur dean blurb and i was wondering if you could do a similar one, but for sam?? and possibly make them enemies to lovers type beat

you're such a good writer too btw :))

a/n: tysm for the support!! ofc I gotta follow up with some sam content, enjoy🫦

Hungry Eyes

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, side-wind, unprotected, m!receiving, overstimulation, language, some angst, size-kink

Pairing: Sam Winchester x you

Summary: You're a hunter, familiar with Sam and Dean's work —and that wasn't a good thing. So, it took no time at all for you to bump heads with the youngest brother, though it becomes difficult to ignore the underlying attraction there.

Word Count: 2k

...

You crouched low behind the thick underbrush, breathing steadily as you surveyed the clearing ahead. The late afternoon sun painted the scene in golden hues, illuminating the blurry figures of two men, struggling against a group of snarling demons. Your heart raced—not from fear, but from that familiar adrenaline. You had been trained for this, to hunt the monsters that lurked in the shadows, and protect those in need.

Just as you braced yourself for a fight, unexpectedly, you recognized one of them. Sam Winchester... The hunter who had opened the gates of Hell, fed on demon blood, and dismantled every hunter's code in a hungry pursuit for power. He and his companion matched their descriptions spot on, and a swell of anger surged within you, merging with the adrenaline.

The Winchesters were the last people you wanted to help, rumoured as selfish and pathetic, yet there they were, fighting valiantly to save a young girl caught in a demon’s grasp.

Against your better judgment, you emerged from your hiding spot. You rushed into the fray, taking down one demon with a swift slice of your charmed blade. It felt surreal; to combat alongside a man you despised by name. As you worked together, you couldn’t deny the rhythm that formed between you, each of you covering the other’s blind spots.

When the last demon fell, silence enveloped the clearing. You stood panting, blood pumping violently through your veins. You then narrowed your gaze onto Sam and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed in your chest. He was dishevelled and dirty, but even covered in grime, you could see the strength in his handsome features. 

But that warmth twisted into disdain as you recalled why you hated him. “You’re lucky I don’t bleed you out myself Winchester,” you spit hostility, using your sleeve to wipe your blade clean as you turned away. You felt his heated stare bore into your back. It was a mix of confusion and something deeper, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it. 

“Right,” he snapped rather sarcastically, voice low, clearly stung. “Thanks for the help, I guess," he uttered, followed by a mumble of, "Whoever you are."

You rolled your eyes. His wounded pride brought you a sense of satisfaction. You liked not having bothered with the usual pleasantries between fellow hunters, or even an introduction. However, you couldn't shake how painfully aware you were of how attractive he looked. Your mind warred with your heart, anger battling lure.

Months passed since then, and fate had an unsettling way of pulling you deeper into the web of chaos that surrounded the Winchesters. One evening, on a cool January night, after a particularly gruelling encounter with a demon, you found yourself in the same motel room as Sam. You both got soaked by an abrupt tidal of rain, and though you changed into some of the boy's spare clothes, Sam made no effort to switch out of his drenched attire.

He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head in his hands. A heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the air, dense with the weight of loss and failure. Another causality was had, and it seemed to affect Sam in a different way than you and his brother, who have grown disturbingly desensitized to death.

You observed Sam, and something inside you softened as you recalled the stories you’d heard—how he had lost so much, which later led to all the Hellfire and bloodshed. The vexation you carried for him began to fade, replaced by a deep-seated empathy. Your instincts kicked in, and without thinking, you approached him.

“Sam?” You called softly. He didn’t respond, the shadows of despair looming over him like a shroud. Disturbed by his silence, you knelt beside him, uncertain yet compelled to bridge the gap between you two. With a tentative hand, you rested it lightly on his back, which tensed, muscles tautening under your cool touch.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears, though they held you with such an acute regard. Without a word, you sat down beside him, the side of your thigh flush against his when you embraced him. It was an impulsive act, a comfort that transcended what defined your strange relationship. Surprisingly, he melted into you, his body shaking with silent sobs. He clearly was desperate for someone to lean on, especially with his brother still outside tracking the monster that attacked you all. 

Minutes passed in that quiet cocoon of shared grief before he pulled back and peered down at you with a vulnerability so scalding, that you nearly shied away. His gaze was disarming and it had a glint of something you had only seen momentarily, on the day you met.

Then his eyes darkened, demeanour shifting. You inhaled sharply and held that breath. The warmth of his presence, so close, burned your skin like a fever —and then he kissed you. The world stilled and the only sensation you felt was the soft, tentative flesh pressing against your lips. It was more of a question rather than a demand; It was gentle —just like you'd grown to understand Sam was.

After a second of hesitance, you shoved his buff chest away with both hands. “No,” you spoke firmly, heart stuttering. “You’re just… you need comfort right now. This isn’t fair," you expressed, though you were unsure of who it was 'unfair' to.

Sam's brows furrowed, daze soon morphing into frustration. “You think I’m just looking for comfort?” He asked before sighing your name, his voice hoarse, thick with disbelief and pure frustration. You shuddered at the depths of his tone. “I want you. I'm tired of pretending that I don’t.”

His words hung in the air, laden with a truth that veered your perspective entirely. The walls you had built began to crumble, and all the reasons you had for hating him felt hollow. You couldn't even look into his puppy-dog eyes, as they surveyed every emotion that flickered across your face.

“Sam,” you whispered, grappling with the surge of feelings you had been filing away, that was now threatening to overwhelm you. “I—”

But he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, leaving no room for doubt. This time, you didn’t retract into yourself. Instead, you thawed against him, eagerly allowing his larger frame to envelop yours.

The kiss grew frantic and you clawed at his thin, wet shirt as you wrapped around him. He then threw you onto his lap so you straddled his stocky thighs. Sam groaned into your mouth and you swallowed it with a pleasant hum. He cupped your head and pulled you deeper into his pressing kiss as if time were against you both.

Your hands roamed down his spine, keen to remove his clothes. You reached the hem of his shirt and lifted it. Sam instantly convulsed against your body and gasped away from your mouth. He let go of you, hands hovering beside your face as he paused, lost in a trance. Suddenly, his stupor cut short and he swiftly refocused on your body, eyes tracing your torso. He gulped before flipping you both. You land on your back, bouncing slightly on the mattress, releasing a yelp of surprise before Sam kneeled above you, mouth agape as he tore off his shirt, throwing it across the room. He then lowered his face to yours, frantic to taste your mouth again. You whimpered when his cold hands moved under your shirt and unclipped your bra.

After he worked off most of your clothes, leaving you in just your undergarments, your hands zipped to his belt, unbuckling it. He grunted before he began an assault on your neck, sucking it, likely leaving numerous hickeys in his wake. “Sam,” you whined, weaving your fingers into his silky hair. “Sam, I need more,” you whined some more, losing the strength in your body while he caged you in, holding you firm against him.

“More?” He questioned, mouth releasing your skin to peer up at you. His dilated pupils surveyed you, brow arching. “Yes,” you whispered airily. Biting your lip, your gaze darted to his undone buckle, hoping he would finish the job. Understanding your wordless request, he rose to tear off the rest of his clothes. You suck in a terse breath at the sight of his naked body, wetting your lips. He was big in every way and you were desperate to feel his weight atop you again.

“Come here,” you whispered seductively, stretching your arms out to him. He promptly accepted your embrace and dropped down to your level. You both sighed into one another, recognizing that this was what you both needed all along. “Jesus, how long have I been waiting for you?” He asked, murmuring to himself. Before you got the chance to respond, the head of his cock pressed against your clit, slowly sliding to your entrance.

You held eye contact with Sam, mouth wide open as he pushed into you, bottoming out in one motion. The air fled your lungs in a single exhale and you're left gasping for breath. You felt Sam watching, observing your bare chest as it rose and fell before kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, memorizing every square inch.

You moaned loudly when he finally moved. It didn’t take long for him to build up a rhythm. Suddenly, he disregarded that tempo and pulled away from your kiss to straighten up. He then took one of your thighs and threw it over top of your other leg, positioning you on your side. His palms cupped your hip and you groaned at the change-up.

Sam eyed you, visibly pleased by the new angle. He then started pounding, roughly ramming into you, skin smacking against your lower half. The collision was loud and the room was crowded by your sobs and Sam’s grunts.

When you reached your gut-churning orgasm, clenching around him, he hoisted up the leg he had flipped, tossing it over his shoulder, gaining more access to you. You shouted and whimpered but he didn’t relent, letting out a week's worth of frustration, toward you, and the universe. He growled your name once, and with that, he carelessly came inside you.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, head tilting down in pure exhaustion. Your eyes fluttered shut as his warmth filled your core, making your body quake. Then he removed his hefty build from your limp one, rising to fall back down to your side. Sam hissed as he left your center, huffing as he dropped onto the soft cushion.

You watched him as he took the time to catch his breath, eyes closed. He was so vulnerable in front of a woman who had threatened him, several times, and it was an alarming sight. To have Sam simply breathe you in, and take you savagely, as if you were his first meal in decades.

Your mouth practically watered at the view of him after sex, tousled hair and sweat glistening across his forehead. Biting your inner cheek, your hands slowly glided towards Sam’s cock. His eyes shot open —wild and stunned— before they squeezed shut again when you applied pressure. You fisted his length, stroking him till you felt cum leak from his tip.

You rubbed him a few times, listening intently to every breath and groan that left his throat. It didn’t take long for him to cum a second time. He just about whimpered your name, weak to your touch, liquefying further into the bed. His hands quickly gripped your wrists when you continued to stroke him even after his orgasm. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost in exasperation, though you knew that was his usual play with sarcasm.

“You're killing me here,” he murmured breathlessly, to which you grinned smugly, whispering into his ear, “Don’t tempt me Winchester.”

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

For All Eternity

So much for the planned fic...anyways here you all go, some angst with fluff and comfort at the end!

Summary: Astarion gets badly injured and you nurse him back to health.

The fight started like any other fight usually did, with you doing all you could to avoid one until there was no other option, and then Karlach would happily charge in, swinging her mighty axe to cut the enemies down. Astarion would hide in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to put a bolt through flesh and you would incinerate whoever was left standing from afar while Shadowheart supported everyone from the backline.

Unfortunately, today’s fight turned out differently. A deurgar had spotted Astarion and went straight for the vampire, bringing its greatsword down to cleave through undead flesh. A cry slipped from Astarion’s lips, alerting you and your companions to what had just happened. Karlach immediately went to work clearing a path to him for you, hacking and slashing at any duergar who came close whilst you ran, faster than you’ve ever run before with the Weave crackling at your fingertips, ready to be unleashed.

Astarion barely manages to roll out of the way of the next blow, hissing when his injured shoulder makes contact with the hard ground and staggers to his feet. He can feel the blood flowing down, seeping through his fingers as he tries to staunch the bleeding to no avail. He messily dodges the next attack but the third connects once more, this time tearing open his thigh. He collapses against the stone wall behind him, painting it red with his blood and he wonders if it’s possible for a vampire to die of blood loss. He’s definitely never heard of one going out in such a way. The thought that he might be the first one to do so brings a sardonic smile to his face, at least he’d go out in a special way.

The duergar snarls in victory and swings again, ready to end the fight when a fireball flies out of nowhere, incinerating it before its blade can land.

“Astarion!” He vaguely hears you call. His vision is getting blurry, he can barely see the charred corpse of the duergar in front of him and he starts to get a little worried. Was he going to die right in front of you? That would be a terrible way to go. You’d cry until you had no more tears left to give, that pretty face of yours all scrunched up and tear-stained. He didn’t like that thought, he’d want you to not be around when he died, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the hurt he’d caused you by dying.

“Astarion!” Your voice is louder now. You must be close, maybe right in front of him but he can barely see, with black spots eating up more and more of his vision.

“Astarion, look at me! Don’t die on me!” He wonders how shit he looks right now, with his own blood all over him. His armour must be painted in his own crimson liquid, a sorry sight to be certain. For a moment, he wishes you weren’t here to see him in such a state but then the fresh scent of your blood floods his nostrils and all he can think about is how hungry he is.

Instinctively, he opens his mouth and lets the blood in, swallowing every drop that comes his way. He hears you let out a sigh of relief and you swim into view as his body heals itself back up with the aid of your blood that is now coursing through his veins.

“Y/N,” he says tiredly, sending you a grin even as his body struggles to keep upright.

“You scared me,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m a vampire spawn, I’m supposed to scare you.” Even when exhausted, the snark never stops.

“Not you though.” You whisper into his ear, burying your face into his hair. “I’m so relieved I got to you in time.”

“Me too,” he murmurs, feeling his eyelids close. Your embrace feels nice as always, warm, soothing, filled with so much love and care that he starts to slip into unconsciousness, spurred on by his body’s demands to rest and recover.

“Astarion?” He hears the slight panic in your voice. He wills his mouth to open, to reassure you with his honeyed words that everything is alright and he’s just going to take a nap but his mouth refuses to cooperate. His body feels heavy, keeping anything open takes everything he has and he’s losing this fight.

“Astarion please, stay awake, stay with me!” He can hear you beg, beg for him to open his eyes, to look at you, to say something. He does, he really wants to do all those things but his damn body won’t cooperate, and suddenly, he’s seized by this fear that he may never see you again, never feel your touch again, never hear your laugh again.

No. No. He will not let that happen. He can’t lose you, he hasn’t taken his revenge on Cazador yet, he hasn’t told you that he loves you yet, he can’t just roll over and die. Still, his body shuts down and he feel his consciousness slipping away. Fear grips his heart as he struggles against the exhaustion but in the end, he loses.

“Astarion!”

When he next opens his eyes, new scents flood his nose. He can smell medicine, residual blood and…

Something brushes against his arm, causing him to turn his attention to whatever it was at his side. A messy mop of hair obscures the figure’s face but he knows its you, how could he not? All those nights spent running his fingers through that mop of hair, sweat and saliva exchanged, he knew you inside and out, just like how you knew him to the same degree.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. His throat refuses to produce the sound, demanding instead for sustenance, for blood.

“Astarion, you’re awake.”

He never gets tired of the way his name rolls off your lips. He could listen to it all day but you’d probably get bored of doing that for a whole day so he settles for simply listening to your voice all day instead.

You slice open your wrist, pressing the wound to his lips and he drinks from it thirstily, swallowing huge gulps at a time. The liquid washes down his throat, wetting it and sends new waves of energy surging through his body, breathing life back into it.

It's at this point he usually stops drinking, ensuring you didn’t die from blood loss but you don’t pull away, neither do you show any sign of wanting him to stop. He stops anyways, not wanting to be the cause of your death and looks at you quizzically when you press the still bleeding wound to his lips once more.

“Drink,” is all you say, in a firm tone that leaves no room for discussion. He obliges, still worried about your health but then Shadowheart comes in with a tray of healing potions and you take a swig from one of them.

You really were going to keep yourself topped up by chugging healing potions.

Normally, Astarion would warn you against doing so but his body desperately wants blood, and you were willing to provide so he continues drinking, taking short breaks in between to ensure you didn’t suddenly collapse or anything. He didn’t want to face the wrath of the party members outside should he be the cause of your death, not that he wanted you to die from him drinking your blood in the first place.

At last, his hunger is satiated and he licks the wound, signalling that he has no more need of your blood for the time being. You withdraw your arm, finishing off the bottle of healing potion to allow the wound to close and turn back to face him, checking him over.

“I’m quite alright, darling. No need to fret.”

“Just checking.”

“Thank you for your concern, love, really, but would you be so kind as to not look at me as if I were on death’s door?”

“You were just moments ago!”

“If I recall correctly, being undead means I’m already dead. Therefore —”

“You had me worried sick! I thought you were going to die!” Tears prick the corners of your eyes. Astarion swallows whatever he was going to say, his mind racing through all the possible ways of consoling you.

“I…I…” The words lodge themselves in your throat, your saliva thick with tears as you struggle to put your jumbled thoughts into words.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you sob. “Back then, when I saw the duergar about to swing his sword down, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to leave me, I wanted you by my side, I wanted you with me.”

He holds you close, feeling your tears stain his clothes but he doesn’t care. He lets you cry, releasing all your pent up frustrations in one go and simply hugs you tightly.

“I’m…sorry, for worrying you,” he murmurs, the apology meant only for your ears. You bury your face deeper into his shoulder in response, fingers gripping tightly onto his shirt. He breathes in your raw scent, unearthed by your lack of a bath and whispers how much he loves you in all the ways he knows how without using the word ‘love’.

“Promise me, that you won’t pull such a stunt again?” You plead, looking into his ruby red eyes with your tear-stained ones.

“I promise, love. You will have me for all eternity.”

“And I promise too, that you will have me for all eternity.”

[yawnderu]

Together — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

"In another life, I'd have the privilege of meeting you under different circumstances." His words were comforting as the cold started taking over your bodies, his gloved hand holding yours.

"In every single life, I'll be looking for you, Simon." His name was never sweeter than when it came out of your mouth. Simon was cursed, Simon lived a never-endind nightmare both as a civilian and as a soldier, but right now? Simon was the luckiest man alive, holding his loved one's hand as life began to slip away from them.

"I'll always look for you, love." His voice was weak, yet oddly calm for someone in his situation. They were separated from their group and badly wounded, yet as he began to accept this was their end, realization hit him. For once in his life, he felt deserving of something. All those thoughts about not even deserving to survive after his family was murdered seemed to be pushed to the back of his head. You didn't deserve this. Simon didn't deserve this, and there's no way in hell Ghost is going to give up. He's a fighter, for fuck's sake.

"Stray?" His gaze drifts down to her, taking in the way she's looking at him, the way she's looking at him like he's worth something, like he deserves the world, yet Simon doesn't want whatever the world has to offer.

"Hm?" Came your soft hum, throat sore from screaming into the comms after the mission failed and you were separated from Price and Gaz. It hurt, yet you didn't know what exactly it was. It was a stinging feeling all over that gave you shaky hands. It made you want to throw up, to claw on your skin until you could find what exactly was wrong, and to rip it out of your body once and for all. To be able to feel your body again, to be able to open your eyes without flinching at the harsh light, to be able to hear your own thoughts.

"I just want you to hold me." Ghost replied softly, groaning as he used all the strength he had left to help you up by the waist, making sure you could get on your feet before he leaned on the wall for support, soft groans and pained growls leaving his lips as he limped alongside you. "Don't let go."

Despite all the pain he's suffered, all his struggles and trauma, this moment feels different— it's like a release, a way to soothe the chaos his broken mind faces daily. He'd rather die fighting alongside you than fight alone. Within you, you're holding him together. You hold his heart, his pain and struggles, his mind, his soul.

"What has two legs and bleeds?" He asked out of nowhere, deep voice strained by his pain as he walked alongside you, holding you close. You were about to protest before you remember why he's doing that— he's trying to keep you awake, and he's trying to ease the tension and fear by joking around. Though this is commonly done by SAS soldiers, it's comical to see The Ghost doing it too, so you decide to entertain him.

"What?" You ask softly, a small grin on your face as you prepare for the shitty joke.

"Half a dog." He answers swiftly. Though you can't see his face due to the balaclava, you can see the slight shift on the mouth part of his mask, his eyes twinkling as they narrow slightly. He's clearly fighting off a grin, yet the dumb joke makes you laugh. You don't know if it's the blood loss making you delirious, or if the joke is actually that funny. Probably the blood loss.

"That was awful." You say, yet you're still giggling about the stupid joke. You both manage to make it out of the building, looking around at all the destruction caused by the enemy. No hostiles appeared to be near, luckily.

"Ghost, Stray, do you copy?" The comms break you both out of your daze as you stare at each other, immediately fumbling for the radio.

"Yes, sir." Ghost replies to Price, his deep voice now more professional as he requested medevac. For once in his life, Ghost felt human. Almost dying, yet more alive than ever. Maybe all his torture was finally worth it in the end, maybe for once in his life, he'd be able to have something nice. Something to call his. His hand reaches down to gently hold yours, squeezing it softly. I love you.

[captainlunaxmen]

Frustration

Finan x fem!reader

Hi! I got this idea last night and thought to write, to ease the wait for the next Finnick's chapter.

Hope you'll like it, let me know❤️

Summary: The Reader can't stand when Finan opposes himself to her involvement in the group's plans.

Warnings: mention of bleeding, mention of sexual assault.

I can feel a headache growing in my skull, Uhtred and Finan have been fighting for far too long now.

I take a big gulp of ale and stand to join them and put an end to it. I get in between them, separating them.

"Would you please stop, now?" I demand, i turn to Finan, "I am going. End of story."

"No you're not." He insists and I deeply sigh, more frustrated then before.

"They don't know her! She can blend in better than us." Uhtred almost shouts out of frustration.

"He's right, Finan, it's the only way we can find out about their plans." Sihtric chimes in, supporting our plan.

"She can't." Finan insists, "no way."

"I can't?" I ask, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"You've not trained enough. It's too dangerous." Finan insists, hard expression on his face.

"Excuse me?"

"She's more prepared than me." Osferth supports us too.

"That doesn't say a lot..." Sihtric mutters.

"She's more than prepared, Finan." Uhtred declares, "she's going."

"End. Of. Story." I add, walking away, ignoring Finan's furious eyes.

I don't understand him, Finan never talks to me, never cared before tonight, and now he acts all mad about me going into the enemy's camp.

I file off my sword, ignoring whoever came in with me.

"I didn't want to ask in front of them, but.." Uhtred's voice is close, "are you sure you want to do it?"

Want... not can, at least he believes in my skills.

"I'm sure, lord." I look him in the eyes, "I'm sure."

"That's what I wanted to hear." He smiles, "all set?"

"Yes, lord." I nod vigorously.

"Let's send you off then!" He cheerfully pats my shoulder, then hugs me.

I say goodbye to everyone as I walk towards the camp. I feel a particularly angry stare piercing my skull as I walk off, but I decide to ignore it.

--------------

Well, that didn't go as planned.

I hold my bleeding arm as I hide from the Danes chasing me. I need to take the longer route to get back to my camp, so I can lose them.

I take a deep breath once I see in the distance Uhtred's camp, one last effort and I'll be safe.

"She's back!" I hear Osferth voice calling the others.

Once I arrive at the camp everyone else is already gathered there to greet me.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Sihtric exclaims.

"They didn't find out I work with Uhtred, if that's what you're wondering." I groan as I sit, Osferth is already kneeling beside me to check on my arm.

"Then what happened?" Uhtred asks, alarmed.

"Nothing particular." I answer.

"What?" The familiar hard tone of Finan is present.

"Nothing."

"That doesn't look like nothing." He insists.

"Am I about to die, Osferth?" I innocently ask the monk.

"Uh... n-no... it just needs stitches..." Osferth hesitantly answer.

"See?" I tilt my head, pointing at Osferth, "it's nothing."

"Y/n..." Uhtred sighs, "what happened?"

"One of the men wanted to 'have fun' with me as he said it." I explain, "I dared to say no."

"What?!" Finan exclaims, but recollects himself immediately.

"But I got the information you needed." I turn to Uhtred.

"I don't care about that now." He says, "are you okay?"

"I'm saying I'm fine. It was nothing." I insist, "they keep the hostages in a chariot, sort of, not many and-"

"You need to rest." Finan interrupts me, earning a glare from me.

"I said I'm fucking fine." I snap at him.

"He's right." Osferth agrees with his friend, "you did lose a great amount of blood apparently. Stay warm and I'll get you something to eat."

"I..."

"Do as he says, you'll tell us later." Uhtred orders. I groans out, but accept the blanket Sihtric brings me.

"Told you." Finan mutters to me and walks off before I could tell him something.

I groan in frustration and just sit there warming myself as I wait for Osferth.

--------------

I ate and they finally let me share all the information I gathered. Now we just need a plan to rescue the hostages.

As we plan I keep sensing Finan's eyes on me, and everytime I look up he stares, furious at me.

"Can I ask what's your problem?" I interrupt Uhtred.

Everyone looks at me confused then move their attention to Finan as well.

"Finan, she's coming too, I don't want a repetition of what happened the other day." Uhtred states.

"You saw what happened." Finan insists.

"I got back with information." I state the obvious.

"You got injured!"

"It was merely a scratch!"

"You're staying here!"

"I am not!" I shouts, "I'm part of this just as you are. I am coming. I am capable, I'm not a fucking child!"

I stand and walk away.

"Y/n..!" Uhtred calls.

"No. Call me when he decides to treat me with respect." I turn around and walk off, away from them. Away from Finan.

--------------

I enjoy the solitude, looking up at the sky when I hear footsteps coming closer.

"I told you my condition, Uhtred." I say.

"Not Uhtred." Finan's voice catches me off guard, I turn to look at him, he looks tired.

"What do you want?" I ask, turning away.

"I... I guess I wanted to apologise." He says softly.

"You guess?" I scoff, "more like Uhtred forced you."

"No... he just sent me off to think, and I cane to the conclusion that I owe you an apology." He sit beside me.

"Okay..."

"So... I'm sorry." He says softly.

"For...?" I urge.

"For looking out for you too much." He says.

"What?" I ask, confused, I stand up looking down at him, "looking out for me? Are you serious?"

He stands up too, and now he's the one looking down at me, since he's taller.

"Yes.."

"You thought that treating me like a child, was looking out for me?" I ask, frustrated.

"I was..."

"Shut up." I say walking away again, but stop when he grabs my wrist and turns me back to him.

"Talk to me." He almost pleads.

"Talk to you?!" I widen my eyes, "you're the one that doesn't talk to me... you don't talk to me, you ignore me, you treat me like a child, you treat me like I'm useless and incapable of helping... like I'm not part of this group and you ask me to talk to you?"

"I've never... I didn't mean it." He tries to explain.

"Then why? What did you mean?" I ask him. He just stares at me, so I insist, "so? Are you going to say so-"

His lips on mine cuts me off.

I'm stunned for not even a second before I kiss him back. Once his hands are on my body I can't think of anything else, but him.

I move my hands to his face, caressing his beard to pull him even closer.

Eventually we both need air and we pull away just enough to breath, but not too far.

"I'm sorry for treating you like a child." He breaths heavily as he apologies.

"What?" I ask, the kiss got too into my head I completely forgot what was going on, he chuckles and caresses my hips, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry, my love." He repeats.

"It's.. it's okay." I say, still catching my breath.

"It's not, I shouldn't have treated you like that." He looks at me in the eyes, "I think the world of you, you're the best with the knives and you're definitely part of this group." He leave a quick peck on my lips, "I was afraid. And when you got back bleeding... I couldn't see anything else."

"Thank you." I say, stroking his cheek with my thumb, "just don't treat me like that ever again."

"I won't." He kisses me again, "I promise you." Another kiss, "fuck, I promise you."

He keeps kissing me and I chuckle at his eagerness.

"Okay... mmh.. okay, Finan." I say between his kisses, "contain yourself."

"Oh you're asking the impossible here, my sweet." He keeps kissing me, moving slightly down my neck.

"We still need a plan to rescue those hostages." I say and he stops with a sigh.

"You're right... as always." He nods.

"But I mean..." I start and his face lightens up, "once they're safe..."

"Yes?" He urges.

"Well... we'll see." I wink.

"Don't play with me, woman." He jokingly warns me.

"Or what?" I tease.

He smirks and wraps his arms around my waist pulling me completely against his body, he put a hand on my cheeks and just kisses me more deeply than before.

"I'm glad tou made up, but we have hostages to safe, c'mon!" Uhtred's voice startles us making us pull away.

"Coming, lord!" Finan calls, then he turns to me with a stupid smile on his face.

He pulls away and takes my hand leading me back to the camp.

Before he lets me go he pulls me to him once more to whisper into my ear.

"Once they're all safe, I'll take care of you myself, love." He says and walks to stand with Uhred, not before giving my ass a small smack.

I look at him shaking my head and then I sit next to Sihtric, who looks at me with a knowing smirk, I slightly shove him before our attention is back on Uhtred explaining the plan to us.

And this time, Finan doesn't have anything to say about my involvement.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

-the old king is dead, long live the king- (edited version)

I was thirteen years old when I ascended the throne. My memory of the most important day of my life--exceeded by only my birth--was nothing but a frenzied whirlwind of fanfare. It's difficult to describe the experience if you've never been in that position, but I'll do my best. I felt helpless, out of control, like a rider on a runaway horse; I could do nothing except cling on for dear life and pray for it to be over soon. One false move could end with me bleeding and lifeless on the palace steps. 

I had started the morning by vomiting discreetly behind the royal carriage, and my mouth still tasted sour. Eunuch Zhao, one of my long-time attendants who was not much older than I but already impossibly calm and worldly, had held onto my robes so they wouldn't get dirty. Afterwards, he rubbed my back and whispered raunchy jokes into my ear because he could see I was on the verge of tears.

The tears were not for the dead king, though I let them believe it was. Custom dictated I had to wear the mask of the filial son in the same way I wore the cumbersome long guan and the heavy, brocaded robes. My life had always been full of these flourishes that served no practical purpose, and I was used to it. I only dared to be honest in the privacy of my mind. I'm glad he's dead. I thought viciously whenever the roiling feelings in my heart threatened to break their banks. I don't care. I don't care. He had it coming. Does this make me heartless? Maybe so, but I'd rather be heartless than dishonest. The truth of the matter was that I had no sympathy for the lofty stranger they called my Father, always doling out judgement and criticism from on high--who had callously abandoned my mother and I in the middle of enemy territory all those years ago and only deigned to fetch me when it was convenient to him.

The arbitrary nature of filial piety had always rubbed me the wrong way. Why should I worship a man just because he sired me? Even dogs and pigs can do that much. If someone wanted my respect, they should have to earn it first. If the ancient kings of Zhou could lose their heavenly mandate through incompetence, then so could a father lose the love of his son. I would have been more saddened by the death of a single, hard-working farmer. A farmer would have at least contributed a single grain of wheat for my bowl, and that would still be miles more than Father ever did for me.

My tears were not for the dead king. I was mourning myself. Mourning the boy who had once been Ying Zheng, that dreamy little idiot who had been content to spend his days lost in his studies, chin on the windowsill, convinced that he was safe and unimportant. I knew I would inherit one day, but I had naively assumed it would be years down the line. After I had a chance to travel the world, marry, and finish my education. Never in a million years could I have guessed it would be like this, with the former king dead under murky circumstances, an overbearing regent who had skyrocketed in power, and myself thrust suddenly into the open without a single ally in my corner. 

With the pounding of the procession drums still echoing in my chest, I bowed in the four cardinal directions and lit the ceremonial ding, moving carefully to avoid knocking askew the guan, which was an unfamiliar weight on my head. The next thing I remember was climbing the stairs to the throne. An attendant supported me under each arm. Zhao Gao had been left behind at the foot of the steps, along with my carriage and the rest of my servants. These eunuchs were the Prime Minister's creatures; they looked docile now, but I knew they were as trustworthy as vipers. I can still remember the stern lecture Prime Minister Lu gave me at yesterday's rehearsal. The King is supposed to move ponderously as if weighed down by the affairs of the state. He must not rush. He must not trip. He must not stutter, or cry, or misbehave in any way. 

'Why not dress a lapdog in my regalia and call it a day?' I thought bitterly and felt more bitter still because I did not dare to voice these thoughts. Lu Buwei was the one who made my father heir back when he was nothing but a useless middle-ranked prince. Father was so grateful he promised to make Lu Buwei the prime minister when he became king. After that, a series of incredible coincidences happened. My Grandfather died just three days into his rule. My father died within three years. Now, it was my turn to sit on that unlucky throne.

I might be inexperienced, but I am not stupid. Grandfather was not old, and Father was not sickly. Life and death might be the domain of Heaven, but there was plenty that mortals could do to speed up the process. Nothing could be proven, of course, but one common thread runs through these events, and his name is Prime Minister-Regent. He benefited every step of the way, and now he will benefit more. Even a child can tell you that a thirteen-year-old king is easier to control than a thirty-year-old one. 

I sat trembling on the throne as hundreds of my father's ministers--now my ministers, if only in name--bowed and scraped, reciting in unison, "All hail the King of Qin! May His Majesty live ten thousand years!"

Construction for my mausoleum began on the same day.

notes:

someone left a ton of nice comments on my gao jianli fic so now im on a writing roll!

ying zheng's critique of the one-sided power dynamic of filial piety is a representation of his non-comformist mindset and willingness to break from tradition. his administration also did away with heritable titles and awarded positions based on proven competency.

he's still a semi-idealistic person at this stage. i want him to start high so we can watch him fall and see his values become corrupted.

im going to try to work the extracts i wrote about ying zheng's childhood + his dad's backstory into the Ode To Grief -verse. current plan is to just publish them in the order they were written, with some edits.

[i-starcreamed]

Angst Mtmte Headcanons with Rodimus, Swerve, Tarn, Ratchet? Either human or cybertronain s/o works!

Their s/o and them get back from a fight. Everything’s fine and they’re like celebrating. But little do they know their s/o has been hiding a fatal injury 😈

HII THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH YOUR REQUEST! Sorry this took like a month...anyways this was a very fun ask ngl. But also this is an absolute nightmare for Ratchet in like, every single one of them besides Tarn, my bad. Just stop dying, Y/N

[ cybertronian!reader CW: angst, death, near-death, injuries, i think you get it

post includes: Rodimus, Tarn, Swerve, and Ratchet]

(can you tell i like this gif?)

RODIMUS

The enemy was defeated, a couple of injured crew members were rushed to the med bay, but all was good now. The danger has passed. Rodimus bore a look of exhausted but relieved contentment, both of you have emerged unscathed from the ordeal.

Except…you held a servo to your side, your face scrunched up when you tried to walk but brushed it off to your lover that you were sore from the fight. 

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go without a checkup from Ratchet?" Rodimus asked, his face betraying his concern. "We had one hell of a fight back there, and I don't want you getting hurt and putting that stunning frame of yours in danger," he managed to smile, but the worry was still obvious in his expression.

“I’m fine, just a little sore is all. I’ll just disengage my pain receptors and I’ll be a-okay” you forced a smile.

That you did, but it didn’t stop you from feeling other symptoms besides pain

As soon as his attention was turned away from you, you took your energon-stained servo off your side, revealing an open wound. It was small, and should usually bleed slowly, but this time it threatened to be a big deal—it was connected to one of your main fuel lines. You glanced at the bots celebrating around you, some missing due to attending their friends in the med bay after the fight.

Ratchet had better things to focus his efforts on, and you saw others far worse off than yourself. You clung desperately to the tiny hope that you would still be standing when all the others were healed. Feeling suddenly unsteady, you leaned against the wall for support, your vision beginning to blur. Come on, not now! You willed your legs to move forward as you made your way toward Rodimus and the rest of the bots he was addressing. You’ll last a little longer.

By the time Rodimus notices you’re horribly injured, it's already too late. You're in his arms, the spark inside you weak and flickering as a large amount of your energon leaves a trail from his racing form. He desperately rushes you to the medbay, his servos shaking and trembling as he pleads with Ratchet to save your life. His voice grows louder as he begs for a miracle, primus help you

“You have to help her, you have to help her!”

The light has gone out from your optics, your spark hums quietly. When Ratchet takes your vitals, he gives Rodimus a look. And oh, he knows what that look means. 

He’s angry, he’s upset, he rushes to hold you one last time. He should have realized earlier, he should’ve taken you to Ratchet even if you said you were fine. He should’ve. 

SWERVE

It was one of those battles where everyone was needed; you and Swerve had to look out for each other. You two weren't the toughest or biggest fighters on your team but hey, by the end, you two managed to help out in some way.  

Why not host a small celebration at Swerve’s? Most of the crew was already there, having a drink or chatting. You stayed behind to get checked up by Ratchet but promised Swerve you’d join him soon after.

After the full-fledged battle, you felt dizzy and tired, but you figured it was just due to your extreme exhaustion. Little did you know, there was a malfunction in your inner circuits that had been spreading quickly, rapidly shutting down your functions. If you were well enough to think clearly and logically about the situation at hand, perhaps the malfunction would have horrified you more than it did… However, with the malfunction putting an extra load on your thoughts and movements it became very difficult for you to think straight. You must have been hit by something, but you don’t even remember what.

Ratchet asked if you wanted to call Swerve, but you said no. You didn't want to worry him. But then again, your spark panged at the thought of never seeing him again, of never getting to say goodbye. Time was running out and at this point, all you had left was the ability to message him through your communicator.

The minibot rushed as fast as he could to see you, but when he arrived and saw the state you were in, his spark sank. You were hooked up to all these machines that seemed to be the only thing keeping you alive. But at least you were still conscious, thankfully

“Oh, oh…y/n why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve, we could’ve…why?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh..y/n..” tear coolant(?) comes out of both your optics.

“Nonono wait, can you please hel-” The look on the medic’s face was enough to answer his pleas. There was nothing that could be done anymore. 

“Swerve” you muttered, your servo reaching out. “It’s okay.” 

The minibot grasped your servo tightly, his desperate grip conveying the understanding that this would be the last time he would have the chance to.

TARN

You knew being alongside the DJD was dangerous, hell, you were dangerous. The team of overly Megatron-obsessed mechs surprisingly had each other's back. You were with Tarn, too. You were basically unstoppable. 

So when you felt that shot hit your chassis, and the energon quickly leaking out of your wound, you had no idea what happened. You fell to your knees in front of the deceased Decepticon traitor whom you had just seen fall right before their blast had hit you. You were turned away from your team and their delight as they celebrated his death without any knowledge of what had happened to you. As those behind you laughed and commended each other for their victory

“Did you see how they finished them off? Absolutely cruel.” Your conjunx bragged to the others. His footsteps approached when you didn’t move from your spot. “Y/N?”

Before he had a chance to witness the pool of energon forming in front of you, you quickly whipped your helm around, frantically trying to hide your dizziness by plastering a smile on your face. "Stubborn one, huh? I'll be..I'll be with you in a moment," your words slurred slightly and Tarn took a step closer. “What was that? Are you alright?”

“YES, yes, I’m just… admiring this. You know how I feel about spilled energon”. Your servo tightened on the wound as you pondered if applying enough pressure would speed up the healing process.

Tarn paused for a moment then went to place a servo on your shoulder. “That’s my-” His optics widened when he saw your servo clutched around your wound.

"What happened?" Tarn demanded, dropping to his knees beside you and examining the wound. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you," you replied weakly, trying to hide the pain in your voice. "I thought it was just a graze, but it hurts more than I thought it would."

Tarn's optics softened as he looked at you, his hand moving to gently caress your cheek. "Just a graze…” He scoffed. “You foolish, stubborn bot," he murmured affectionately. "You know I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

“I’m sorry,” you winced. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks - you were dying and needed medical attention immediately. His spark hurt. Despite it all, he musters up enough courage to pick you up in his arms and take you away to safety, struggling to keep his composure as he does so.

Your optics shut off, and he realized he might need to figure out his last words to you. He clutched his fists. 

RATCHET

He would never forgive himself if a fatal injury went unnoticed, especially if you were his patient. And yet, somehow it happened

Many of the crew members were injured, and few needed urgent medical attention but you knew Ratchet would be busy.

Despite his complaints and grumbling, Ratchet had agreed to scan you as soon as he was done tending to his critically-injured patients.

You had a deep slice way too close to your spark, you were bleeding out. You were able to use a medical patch tucked away in your subspace to temporarily stop the bleeding, but it's like applying a bandage to a bullet wound a little too close to the heart.

You realized you may have fucked up when you started to feel lightheaded and your sensors suddenly weren't working so well. You limped your way to the medbay, but didn't manage to make it. You groaned as the energon seeped from underneath the patch, you slid down the wall just a couple steps away from the entrance. The last thing you saw was a blur exit the medbay and run towards you before your optics powered off.

Ratchet’s optics widened when you were carried into the medbay by a bot he had just finished working on. He took off the patch to reveal the fatal wound, he could only stand there as your spark weakly glowed underneath all your inner systems. 

Why hadn’t you told him? Why didn’t he make sure? He knew your spark was too weak and wouldn’t make it but he still desperately tried to seal any area where energon was flowing from, occasionally cursing at himself when his servos would be too shaky. 

“C'mon, c'mon. Primus, damnit. Don't you dare give up on me now."

He couldn't accept the truth, he held his helm in his servos when your spark completely stopped functioning. 

He agreed to have a drink at Swerve’s with you after everyone was healed, just one. And now that moment would never come. 

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - I

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, emotional manipulation, guns, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

NOTE: So this is my very first fic on tumblr!. i wanted the first to be a one shot but, oh well. Do feel free to send me your thoughts!. Reblogs are really appreciated, this is tumblr after all. I hope you enjoy!.

DIVIDERS: @firefly-graphics 

*

You’ve always loved Bucky, since the very beginning and you’ve always known it, he was your best friend after all. It was your responsibility to love him, to protect him, and to take care of him— you’ve always tried your best.

Whenever Steve would take it upon himself to start unnecessary fights with the older boys, Bucky would step in to support him, to save him and both idiots would end up getting their ass’s whooped. You were the smarter one you knew how to pick and choose your fights, you would run to find the nearest teacher and complain about the senior boys and they would take care of the rest.

So you always knew that, when he needed you; you’d be there for him. But you never knew if he felt the same way, or if he even liked you at all, Steve always did seem to be his first priority.

You were badly jealous of the boy, but you never wished ill on him, especially because of how frail he was and how often he’d fall sick. You supposed everyone prioritized him…

Both your father and Steve’s worked for Bucky’s dad. Considering how dangerous it is and how enemies would stoop so low as to hurt the children, Steve’s mother’s paranoia seemed valid.

But you were too young to realize all of that; after all, there’s only so much an 8-year-old can understand. You seemed quite content with your life; little did you know that everything would change soon enough. 

You remember that day very clearly, even now, long after the incident. You’d had a big fight with Bucky, about him leaving you to see Steve because he was sick again! In his defense, he did ask you to come, and you did want to visit Steve. But Sarah was not your biggest fan; she simply tolerated you and was more often than not, not very welcoming of your family. You remember your mother saying something about them being more rich due to old money.

Although you supposed that it was mostly, due to the fact that while other kids were out playing; her son was more than often stuck in bed.

As you opened the door and entered your house, you hadn’t noticed the stillness in the air. The house was very quiet, but then again, it always was. Your dad was out for work, your mom; busy with the housework, you were quiet the small family.

Just as you enter the kitchen, you’re alarmed as somebody holds you and covers your mouth, and just as you are ready to scream; as much as your trembling voice will allow you to, you stop. Mortified to see your wailing mother screaming and crying to let you go, her hand’s tied; as 3 men stand around her.

You had never seen her so scared before; seeing tears in her face scared you even more; she had always been the brave one, the one you run to, whenever you had a nightmare.

Right next to her was your dad, his forehead bleeding and his lips split. The man questioning him seems to have stopped in your presence; he stared at you and his face seemed to hold a mixture of pity and guilt.

He continues to question your father. It’s all too much; Your mother’s cry, your father’s helplessness, and the tight grip of the man holding you—your mind starts to get hazy.

All of a sudden, the front door crashes open, a ear-bleeding, loud bang resonates through the air, and the person holding you falls on to the floor. By now, a lot of men are in your kitchen, their guns pointing to each other.

You hear none of their conversations; you try your best not to look at the dead man lying beside you; you get a glimpse of the blood splattered on the wall, terrified; you close your eyes for a second and look straight ahead, only to find the man questioning your dad on the floor, his head underneath the sole of Bucky’s dad’s feet.

Somebody helps your mum up, and she runs to your side; she holds you close to her as they escort the two of you outside into a black limousine. Just as you climb up, you hear another gunshot; you no longer wish to know who was shot.

Time seems to be moving in a different pace and before you know it, you’re at the Barnes household. Your parents seem to be discussing something but you couldn’t pay any attention to it.

All you could feel was the ringing sensation in your ear.

Bucky entered the mansion just around that time, his initial reaction to seeing you at his place was surprise; a small smirk forms on his face, but it slowly turns into confusion as he looks around.

He slowly comes up to you, takes your hand in his, and leads you to his room. As you sat on his bed, he prepped his pillows up to make you more comfortable and sat down next to you.

You assumed that he would ask you what was wrong or what happened. Your disheveled state would have made the distress obvious. But he never did; he just sat next to you, staring at you, yet you felt more comfortable sharing this silence, than you did the whole day.

Eventually he left and came back after some time with a glass of water in his hand. He gave it to you as he sat down next to you, even closer this time; and hugged you .

He’d been out for much longer than what would be required to get a glass of water.

So you assumed that he must have pestered around and made his mother spill everything. Mrs. Barnes was a sensitive women and Bucky always had his way with people.

He hugged you a little tighter as he said “It’s OK; you’re safe now. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, ever.”

And in that moment, you realized that he loved you back as well.

~

[clownprincehoeshi]

Twisted deception - Teaser

Synopsis: Betrayal and manipulation were always a constant in your life. Leading your family's legacy as a mafia boss is not an easy task and most of the times can lead to losing the ones you love most. You've always kept away from love, but even is this dark and unforgiving world it finds you. But it also breaks you.

Pairing: mafia boss Mingyu x mafia boss reader

doctor Seungcheol x mafia boss reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, mafia au, angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: mafia scenarios, death, gun mentions, blood, cheating, sex scenes, nudity... will post others along the way if needed

Status: ongoing

Started: july 23th 2024

Word count of the teaser: 1181

Information: So I wanted to do something different for this fic. I've decided to use a name instead of Y/N(RUA). For me, it gves more depth and dimension to the character and it helps with the wrting/reading process. It's a random name that I thought about randomly and it also starts with the letter of my own name. I don't know, I find it pretty, short and simple. I will start writing on the first chapter after I finish with Parallel Hearts story(about two more chapters to go). Not sure how many chapters this one will have, maybe 2 or 3. Sugestions and comments are welcomed.

Don't forget to support the writers by rebloging their works! Thank you!

Teaser

It was white before it was black. You blacked out and you don’t know why. It’s so cold and wet.

You feel like you’re floating and your ears are ringing loud. Am I dying, is this it?

The ringing starts to go down and you hear blasts, guns and screams. You hear a voice and you can’t understand what it says and who’s voice is it.

Have they kidnapped me? Are the Kim’s really this low to try to take me? Oh God, what are they going to do to me? I feel sick. I feel like throwing up.

“How is she? Is she breathing?”

“I don’t fucking know, let me get her in the car, faster”

Is it Jun? You feel tears burning your eyes and face. Why can’t I open my eyes?

What is that feeling on my leg, burning almost. I feel something running down to my toes.

“Shit, she’s bleeding bad, hurry, we need to get to Jin!”

“Fucking Kim, I want to stay behind and finish them all!”

“Noo, don’t be stupid, Hao! You might be the best assassin in the business, but you are one and they are many”

Oh, I am not caught by the Kim’s. Good, now I can rest a little.

You faint from all the blood loss from the wound on your leg and you’re finally in the car, Minghao quickly getting behind the wheel and driving off towards the hospital where your brother Jin was a doctor.

Next thing you remember is waking up in a hospital room, with Your bother and Jun net to your bed, discussing something.

Rua: Jin…

Jin: You’re awake! You scared me!

Rua: Sorry. Is everyone ok, Jun?

Jun: Two of our men got shot by the Kim’s and one died in the explosion

Rua: Fuck!

As you’re starting to blurt out shit about your rival clan, you try to get up and your legs are not working properly

Jin: Oh, come oon, are you ever going to stay put for 5 minutes? You’re not yet ready to go out there yet.

Rua: I will fucking end him! I’ll end Kim Mingyu with my own hands!

Jun: How did they find out we were meeting with the Min’s there?

Minghao’s voice feels like a whisper when he enters the room, unnoticed.

Minghao: Something’s not right. I saw none of the Min’s men there tonight.

Rua: I personally spoke to Yoongi on the phone.

Minghao: This was definitely a trap. But for who?

Rua: Hao, I need you to get to the bottom of this asap. I won’t let this go away.

Minghao nods and he leaves the room. You know he’ll find out, no matter what. He’s the best at what he does and you’re lucky you have him on your side. His father was your dad’s right hand and you two have been best friends since you were little. Of course he would be on your side.

Jin: Do you need me right now? I need to to check on some patients for now.

Rua: Thanks, Jini, if I need something I have Jun here with me.

Jun: And Seokmin is outside the door.

Jin: Well ok then, see you later. Don’t be an idiot and try to leave!

After one hour, you tried to get back to sleep but you couldn’t. All these thoughts were running trough your mind. Was it really Yoongi the one you talked to on the phone, was it a scam? Who is trying to kill you? Are the both clans working together? How are you going to proceed from now on?

You decide to get up and try to find Jin. He might be in his office. Outside your door are Jun and Dokyeom, eyes going wide when they see you.

Dokyeom: Boss, come on, get back to bed! You’re hurt.

Rua: I’m fine, I just need to find Jin.

Jun: I’m going with you.

Rua: Guys, it’s safe here. Take a break, ok? Eat something and get some rest in my room.

Jun: Here, take my gun, keep it under your robe.

Rua: Ok, if it makes you feel better.

Dokyeom: We don’t want to risk anything, especially after tonight. We could have lost you. We could have all died there.

Hearing that it makes your blood boil and the feeling of revenge grows bigger inside you. You’re no weak girl, you’ll show them all. You were born for this, trained for this life. Ever since you were 5 years old, your father took you under his wing and teached you everything he knew.

There was no other person in the world he trusted more. He could see your potential, how smart you were, how good you could read people and situations and how fast you were with actions and solutions.

Walking slowly down the hospital hallways, you feel a bit sleepy. Good, I’ll be able to sleep after I talk to my brother then. I thought I will stay awake all night.

Reaching a dead end, you can’t remember if Jin’s office was to the right or to the left. You stop. Someone is talking. You don’t turn the corner, don’t want to risk being see. Afterall, you don’t know who these men are.

None of them is Jin or anyone you know. You don’t recognise the voices. You keep quiet and at the same time you feel sleepier. What’s going on?

“She’s in room 79. Make it quick and clean. No witnesses.”

“Got it. Let’s move!”

They are walking towards you. Shit! You can’t run, your leg has stiches from that ugly cut on your thigh. Oh, the gun. As you try to get your gun from under your robe, you feel a firm pull. A hand grabbing your waist, pulling you into a door.

The room is dark. So dark that you are not sure your eyes are closed or opened. You feel pression over your mouth. A hand. A body behind you. Warm. You feel warm. And so sleepy. Damn, Jin must have put you on some strong pain killers.

You feel his breath right behind your ear, feel his hear beating on your back, his other hand wrapped tight around your waist.

You hear commotion outside, slaming. A shot. A second shot. Jun, Seokmin. They’ll be fine, they are smart and cautious. They’ll be fine.

“Shh, keep quiet a minute more. I’ll remove my hand, ok?”

You nod.

Rua: Who are you? Why did you pull me in here?

“I work here and I heard their conversation and needed to act fast. Sorry.”

Rua: I feel so dizzy. I’m not feeling well.

“What do you want to do now?”

“Just take me out of here. Anywhere. I need..”

And you passed out from the painkillers. As you’re getting deeper and deeper into sleep, you feel strongs hands lifting you up and carrying you away. You don’t know who this man is and where he’s taken you.

You’re so far gone that you didn’t even think he might be there to hurt you.

[tassodelmiele]

Tickles

And here we are again with NSFW, a Ghost x Reader a little...wet.

There's a little bit of pissing content. Not that much, but please, read just if you don't find it repulsive.

I can't say much more, I should be listening the terrible lesson I've paid for, since Italy wants professors to be burned out from burocracy, and also wants all of our goddamn money.

...........................

Legs are trembling like pudding thrown too early out of the fridge; hip is burning like a char muffin.

You're a rotten dessert, too baked to think straight, too melted to stand on your own.

And in the hell of a disaster that mission is, you're finding yourself being held in two reliable hands as if you're a melted ice cube supposed to be spooned.

And he's doing it without complaining.

You hiss a painful whimper under the touch of his digits on the bandage, brand new and already blood-soaked. Your hands run instinctively on his wrists, but he's stone-still in his duty to support your weight.

<Lemme do it. Just hold onto me, 'K?>

You come back clinging on his gear, grasping fingers around it while his touch lowers to your belt.

Ghost's voice hit you like a burning knife under skin, tattooing your awareness of the current condition:

<No need to worry, gorgeous. There's nothing wrong>

No. No, there isn't, you know it's just a normal, physiologic need.

But maybe feel the urge to pee in the middle of a goddamn nowhere, while hiding from who knows what kinda enemy, and with your hip torn by a flying bullet…maybe, maybe, it's not the best way to spend time.

Particularly if you can't stand by yourself.

Ghost holds your untied trousers with both hands, murmuring: «'M gonna get rid of this», waiting for your nodding forehead to brush onto his gear and give him permission.

Is a little bit of a jump in the void as cold air hits your tights slowly being undressed to the knees. He makes all the right moves to not let you without a grip.

<'S bleeding?>

You shake your head, murmuring a: <No>, referred to the goddamn wound.

<Good. Ready to crouch?>

Your nod it's the signal to proceed, and he follows your body through the movement till you two end up squatting on the ground, you with yellow panties exposed and the overflowing bladder, him with masked eyes wandering on the ceiling.

You try your best to move the panites away just how much it's required not to wet them; then, you're kinda ready.

It's not working, though. And you realize it with an embarrassed clenched of your teeth on the inner cheeks, and a nervous breath that causes the Lt's reaction.

<Problems?>

You chew a flustered: <I can't>

He frowns.

<Whaddya mean?>

<Is too…full>

You know how much of a pain in the arse you're being, and you're expecting at least to be left in that dark hole, crouched on the ground, and be considered a lost cause.

That until his gloved digits slide down just a little from your hips, giving you shivers on your naked tights' skin.

<'Ve heard tickle comes in handy> is the rough, muffled explanation.

You can sense gooseflesh growing where he touches.

Ghost's fingers trace your body lightly, trembling a little while trying to be as soft as possible, to not make you lose balance. Your hands are gripped so tight around his gear, but he's a wall in front of you, holding you still with one hand and painting your edges with the other.

He makes a sudden move, sliding between your buttcheeks.

You whimper: instantly, uselessly choking breath on his chest; and a tiny, little drop starts to flow down there, dripping from your throbbing cunt.

You're not quite sure it's pee, though.

<'S working?>

You don't know how to answer.

And his fingers come back, raising on the little of your spine left uncovered.

<You're trembling>

You're knotted, clinging onto him, grasping on his gear while something drips between your opened tights, and it's clearly not easy for your brain to focus on something which is not his presence on your skin.

Ghost curls up on you a little more, placing his bended leg between yours, trying to sustain your weight as much as possible. His free hand is pressed on your back, pulling you on his chest.

<Relax>

His open palm cups your butt, squeezing it softly.

<Let it out>

Two fingers start a slow run, up and down between your bottom, sliding on the sweating cold skin, passing on sensitive spots with nonchalance, getting slower as they lower, rising up again, then exploring a little more, deep down.

Till he touches your lips, down there: just a brush, a slight sensation of his gloves.

Your guts make a flip; your bladder lets out a little more, and you're pretty sure your panties are not lowered enough down your tights to be saved.

<Good girl>

His voice is a rough caress in your ears, filling up your dizzy mind.

Ghost wide palm gives you a nice couple pats on your butt, suggesting kindly: <Keep on, darlin'>

One last soft spank is enough to stimulate your belly, making it squeeze how it is needed to let a stream of pee come out.

You whine, hide in his gear, so red in the face that your cheeks are burning.

He brushes a low: <Good…> in your ears, holding your burning body, be careful on not touching the hip wound.

<'S everything out?>

You're about to nod in affirmation, to let go of the uncomfortable position, get dressed and pretend nothing happened. Is not just 'cause your knees start to hurt, your hip burns and you're panting as if you were running a goddamn marathon.

It's the arousal growing in your lungs, infesting your lower body and causing your belly to indulge Ghost's hold and firmly collide onto him.

It's the whiny breath you can't control anymore.

It's him, giggling in front of your flustered state, and just letting his hands make its way through all the road between your buttcheeks to the edge of your cunt, wetting his gloves in your stinky juices.

You arch your back, ignoring the pain.

<Lemme check, mh?>

He drowns his digits in you little by little, moving them inside nicely, pressing onto your sticky walls to reach as deeper as he can.

Your bladder throb under his pushes, making you gag a cry.

<Hold on, gorgeous>

He thrusts a little more, in and out, just to find the right place where to press his fingers and massage you inside.

Your cunt starts to tighten.

He murmurs: «'S ok babe, suck 'em up», so amused by the sudden reaction of a little stream of leftover golden drops dripping down. He moves again, searching for the little button inside, pressing and pushing on your walls till he feels you tremble against him. 

Then he pushes again, drawing little circles inside your sticky cunt.

<Everything out babe, know you can do it>

You whine, throbbing and jerking in his arms, but he's not letting you go. He stirs juices inside you, massaging deep, letting your pleasure grow and overflow on his gloves. You feel your bladder tremble, and it suddenly, totally empty in his hand.

He gets out all of a sudden, tearing his fingers away from your tight cunt. You throb, sobbing a moan in his gear, feeling your grip loosening under the unsatisfied pleasure growing under your belly.

Ghost's wet hand reaches your face, holding your cheeks to lift your sight to him.

<Thank your bloody wound, darlin', or I would have already thrown you on the goddamn floor to fill you whole> 

...........................