#i was in a state of inspiration more intense than ever before when making these. literally could not stop

[iniziare]

Consider Yelan's facial expression to be my own in reaction to opinions shared on both X and Tumblr, and I guess I'm in the minority of the 'loud ones', but I'm pretty excited for Natlan since that trailer, actually. The previous teasers left me a little 'eh', but this definitely got my hopes back up, and I'm back in the right spirits for it (and ready to catch some Pokémon.)

Now I wouldn't be me if I didn't touch on the salt that I've seen scattered across the dash, so here I go. Listen, I read people's objections and I see what you're all aiming at, but in that light want to note that it's often incredibly easy to point fingers (arguably too much so) at others while being, quite honestly, hopefully rather aware that many of our own countries, cultures, and its populations across the board (and no, I'm not excluding anyone here) would likely be just as easily guilty as MHY is with these things. And no, I'm not blindly defending them, but I also won't point fingers at only one without pointing them everywhere else as well, including those you might think would 'never do such things', because I'm absolutely certain that they would. /continues on in the tags.

[natashashill]

desperate times, desperate measures

pairing: older!agatha x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ overstimulatuon, handcuffs, spreader bar, blindfold, one pussy spank, strap, shower sex, praise & degradation, aftercare

a/n: this was high key inspired by @lunargrrrl & her work with director!agatha so everyone say thank you

summary: reader sends agatha scandalous pictures and agatha deals with her

You were needy.

To your defense,you started off bored. However, there was very little that you could do without Agatha. This evolved to your current state of neediness, although you knew Agatha wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed while she worked. You tried to distract yourself, heading out into the pool and letting yourself lounge, but your thoughts quickly centered around Agatha joining you. So you did the next logical thing, you let yourself dry off before sitting on one of the chairs and picking up your phone. You opened up the camera and aligned your body in a way that was more promiscuous than you could claim innocence for, your wet tits on display through your smaller than necessary swimsuit. 

Agatha quickly hearted your message, although she was in the middle of an important meeting. It wasn’t until she got out of her meeting and back in her office that she fully saw what you had sent her, along with a few others that you happened to send. 

She sent you a warning text, advising you against teasing but when have you ever listened to her. So exactly an hour before she was supposed to come home, you send some more pictures except they’re you naked in bed  wrapped in her sheets. Agatha had to place her phone down at that and decided to leave an hour early, hoping to catch you off guard.

And off guard she caught you. Agatha had barely any rules when it came to your dynamic. The first was for you to not disobey her when she instructs you to do something. The second was that you’re not allowed to touch yourself or come without her permission. It was quite a lovely surprise to walk back home and see you spread out in her bed with your hand rubbing frantically at your clit, desperate for an orgasm. She doesn’t move, enjoying your performance as you can barely make yourself come. Eventually, she decided to take some pity on you and make herself known.

“Well look what we have here. My little brat decided to break my rules. For what? You can’t even make yourself cum, how pathetic.”

Your eyes widened as you realized she was standing right in front of you, and you slowly pulled your hand away from your core. She looks down at you while watching you squirm underneath her harsh gaze.

“I’m going to give you a deal since I’m in a forgiving mood. I’m going to leave you here with the vibrator and finish my work, if you take it like the good girl that I know you are, I’ll fuck you with the strap.”

You slowly nod as she rummages through the bedside table drawers, grabbing a vibrator, a handcuffs, a blindfold, a spreader bar, and a dildo. You accept your fate when she goes to bind your hands and feet together leaving you spread out and perfectly out of control for her. She ties the blindfold, and slowly starts placing kisses all the way down your body. She leaves some bites at your inner thighs, her tongue swirling around afterwards to ease the sensation. Her tongue takes one swipe up your dripping core before pulling away. You let out a pitiful moan at that, but she slaps your core in response. 

“Alright baby, I’m going to go do my work now. If you need to stop, call out your safe word otherwise I don’t want to hear anything coming out of your mouth.”

At that, Agatha turns vibrator on high and leaves it angled directly at your clit before tying it to you, so you can’t escape it. Your hips jolt upwards at the sudden intensity, but you can’t escape the feeling.

She chuckles and exits the room. She felt a little bit bad about leaving you alone, but she did have to finish her work. She leaves her door completely open, making sure she can hear everything from the bedroom. She takes the time to respond to her emails, slowly dragging out each one as she keeps an eye on the clock. When she decides you’ve had enough, she first makes her way into the kitchen, bringing back some items that she knows you’ll want after this is over.

Coming back into the bedroom, she can’t take her eyes off of you. Your back is arching off the bed, there’s tears streaming down your face, your pussy is leaking all your juices onto the sheets, and your hands are gripping the bed sheets. Agatha goes to untie the vibrator from you, letting your clit take a break. She goes to put on the stap, an 8 inch dildo that she brings out on very rare occasions. She runs her fingers through your wetness once, before lining up her dildo to your entrance.

“You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you baby? Mommy’s going to fuck your greedy pussy now, since that’s what you were begging for weren’t you. You wanted to cum baby. Aren’t I such a good mommy letting you come so many times, even though you absolutely don’t deserve to.”

You do your best to nod but no words come to your head right now. She chooses this exact moment to start fucking you, and all your thoughts fly out the window.

“No words baby? Did you get so dumb that you can’t speak after a few orgasms? Is that all it takes for your head to go empty?”

She continues pounding into you, and your eyes roll back, your pussy is throbbing with all the stimulation but you never want her to stop fucking you. However, your mommy was never that nice. When your thighs start to shake, she pulls out of you, ignoring your pitiful whines.

“Oh my poor baby, did you want me to keep going? I wasn’t sure because you never said anything. You know good girls need to ask mommy before they cum.”

“I’m sorry mommy. Please let me come, I promise I’ll be good, you’re the best mommy ever.”

She chuckles at that before entering you again, and this time she sets an unforgiving pace. 

“Such a good girl for me, taking me so beautifully. I can’t stop fucking your pussy baby, you’ve got me hooked baby.”

You let out a moan at that, breathing out Agatha’s name while she continues to go deeper inside, claiming all parts of you. 

“Mommy please, I want you so bad. Need you to fill me up please. I just want you.”

She can’t hide her appreciation for that, letting out a moan and fucking you faster, desperate to make you cum. It doesn’t take much longer, and you’re coming again. Agatha fucks you through your orgasming, watching the way you react so keenly. She’s obsessed with you, and she doesn’t know how to stop herself from falling deeper. A whimper from you shakes her out of her thoughts and she delicately pulls out, letting you start to settle down. 

She throws the strap somewhere near the bathroom, choosing to focus on you. She immediately unties you, allowing you to finally move again. What she didn’t expect was for you to wrap your arms around her, enveloping Agatha into a hug. She hugs you just as tight while lowering you back onto the bed, wanting you to take some much needed rest. She quickly turns over to present you with some snacks and water, guiding the straw of the bottle to you, while trying to figure out which of the snacks you find most appealing. She settles for some grapes and goldfish, and feeds them to you while you happily lean against her chest, exhausted after the day’s events. She presses gentle kisses to your face, hoping to show just how much she loves and cares for you. When you’ve had enough, you’re nuzzling closer into her and Agatha just laughs. 

“Not yet baby girl. Let’s go take a shower and I’ll let you sleep all you want.”

You reluctantly follow her into the shower, she gently guides you inside, before stripping herself of her work clothes and joining you. You smile at her when you realize she’s joining you, and she affectionately rubs your cheek with her knuckles. You let your muscles enjoy the hot water, feeling yourself relax. 

You take the opportunity of her being distracted to get on your knees in front of her. You place your hands on her upper thighs and she lets out a moan when she realizes what you’re up to. 

“Such a good girl for me. You make mommy feel so good baby, don’t stop. You’re doing perfectly angel.”

Her praise spurs you on, your tongue eagerly twisting and sucking where she needs you. It doesn't take her long to finish, her hands finding themselves in your hair and you eagerly lap up all her juices, enjoying the way she tastes. 

She pulls you back from her core trying to get you to stop, “That’s enough baby, you did good for mommy. No more honey, mommy’s sensitive.”

You smile up at her before standing again, and pull her in a kiss, to which she eagerly kisses back. She lets you lead the kiss, enjoying how sweet you are, before she pulls away to get you out of the shower. 

She lets you pick out some of her clothes to wear and sits you down in front of the TV while she makes dinner for the two of you.

“Hey sweetheart?”

“Yes mommy?”

“Next time you’re going to show off for me, lose the bikini honey.”

You look up from your plate as she shoots you a wink, and you’re just as desperate for her again.

tag list: @morbidlcve

[jointherebellion215]

Flowers

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: You're living a perfectly content life on Geidi Prime with your husband. It's a shame your mind can't rest, sparked by glimpses of a life unknown. Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.5k

TW: Dark!Feyd-Rautha, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, yandere!Feyd-Rautha, manipulation, gaslighting, like SO much gaslighting holy shit, descriptions of violence, abusive relationship, emotional abuse, isolation, tragedy, nonconsensual drug use, nonconsensual medical treatement, induced memory loss, amnesia, dubious consent, pregnancy, songfic, happy-but-not-really-happy ending, I know I said female!reader but there's virtually no pronoun usage or descriptive words in thisfor the reader besides titles so maybe GN!reader??

A/N: I'm blown away, almost 500 notes on His Kiss, the Riot? Holy shit, all of the thanks! Here it is, the final part! I'm ending it with the song that actually started this whole idea. Listening to Eva's interpretation of Eurydice singing Flowers gave me the most delicious, fucked-up bit of inspiration and this came out. I was clutching my own metaphorical pearls writing this cause damn, this gets dark. Like, way more than I thought I could write. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the end of this twisted tale. Thank you for reading! As always, I appreciate you taking the time to like, comment, and reblog.

Read Part One and Part Two

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

Lily white and poppy red

I trembled when he laid me out

“You won’t feel a thing,” he said, “when you go down”

Nothing gonna wake you now

Drops of blood. 

A wicked, black smile.

“You won’t feel a thing.” 

You wake up with a gasp. Your doctor had warned you about dreams like this. They weren’t real, just an aftereffect of your accident.

The medical staff for House Harkonnen had been gracious enough to inform you of your predicament. When your family had recently hosted the Harkonnens, you quickly met and fell deeply in love with the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. Your love for each other was so intense that you had demanded to get married right away. Your father disapproved of the union, so he disowned you and banished you, demanding to never see you again.

On the journey back to Geidi Prime, a stray asteroid hit the ship and caused you to hit your head. Feyd had apparently worried for your life, which saddened you and warmed your heart. It was nice to know that someone truly cared for you. However, your mind wasn’t quite the same afterwards. Your life before Geidi Prime was completely unknown to you. Your memories were in a fragile state.

That was just a few months earlier. Unfortunately, your mind has not yet recovered your memories prior to the accident. You were diligently taking a specially brewed tea that would calm your mind so it wouldn’t fracture under the immense pressure to try and fix itself. When you asked how long it would take for you to recover, your heart cracked when they said that it may take the rest of your natural life.

While it broke your heart to hear of your father’s dismissal of your feelings, you believed that you were strong enough to carry on. Having no further ties to your home world made it better to settle in with your new family.

You are a Harkonnen now.

Now, your footsteps make the quietest of echoes as you traipse down the narrow corridor. Heads of nearby servants and slaves bow, and eyes snap to the floor as you pass by. You feel the barest of sympathies, for not being allowed the simplest of human connection with their na-Baronness. But it was paradise considering the consequences should anyone ever feel bold enough to try otherwise.

Your husband wouldn’t allow that.

Dreams are sweet, until they’re not

Men are kind, until they aren’t

Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart

“Can I not have a single friend on this planet?!”

You burst into your shared chambers, rage rushing through your veins. All you had wanted was to have lunch and tea with one of the few female palace advisors you had taken a liking to. Maybe share a laugh or a story. Make a connection outside of your new family. That was all ruined when Feyd barged in and gutted your companion, stomach-to-throat, while she sat in her chair.

You were sure that your shoes had trailed blood down the hallway, but your mind was focused elsewhere at the moment.

“What use would you have for friends? I am right here.” He closed in on you, grasping your arms and forcing you to look in his direction. “Am I not enough for you? Do I not give you everything you should ever desire?”

His hands tighten around your wrists, making you flinch. A stray tear falls from your eyes, guilt starts to overcome your anger.

“No, not at all, husband! You have given me everything I could have wished for and more,” You wrench your hands out of his grip and grasp his face. He showered you with gifts, never let you go hungry or thirsty and this is how you repay him? “I just… I didn’t think you would want to hear me talk about certain things. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know you don’t, my darling.”

You take a deep breath as you feel the tension in the room start to settle.

“Your mind is already fragile from the accident… I just want to keep you safe.”

Safe. That was the key here. He takes step back and retrieves a small dagger from his belt.

Feyd holds it up, showing you the weapon. “Did you know that your friend had a blade dipped in poison strapped onto her person?”

You can feel the blood rushing from your face. No. You didn’t know.

“I-I didn’t see a knife on her. She couldn’t have-“

“She did.”

He drops the blade and leans in closer to you, forehead aligning with yours. “There are people out there who seek to harm you, who seek to harm me through you. I can never let that happen.”

You nod furiously. You couldn’t believe that you had been so stupid. 

Trust is unbelievably hard to come by in the Galactic Imperium. Your few months’ worth of memories can even attest to that. It seems that the only people you can truly rely on is family.

“I only want what’s best for you.”

You understand now.

Is anybody listening?

I open my mouth and nothing comes out

Another argument discussion had emerged from your telling of your latest dream. Your husband was convinced that you were entirely too exhausted to put any stock into what your subconscious was telling you, but you thought otherwise.

Fingers run through a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

“I swear to you, it felt so real! It was almost like a memory, like something I-,” A firm hand is placed on your shoulder as you give a slight stumble. Feyd puts a hand on your back, leading you to the edge of your bed, setting you on the bench that was placed against the footboard.

“Please, have some of your morning tea, my darling. You look a bit peaked.” You accepted the cup he gave you, settling down and taking a few sips of the warm, spiced drink. Your mind instantly calms, anxieties evaporating from your body like puffs of smoke. Never mind the memories that you had just… Floating.

Your husband is now on one knee in front of you, arms encasing your body, as his hands cup your face. He brings your eyes to meet his, seemingly searching. For what? You do not know.

“What were you saying about this dream of yours?” A pause reverberates throughout the room as your head tilts in confusion.

“My…?” You stutter, mouth opening to complete a thought that was no longer entirely there. “I can’t quite remember. What were we talking about?”

Your husband gives a smirk, analyzing your face once more before placing his hand on the dark fabric covering your swollen belly.

“Nothing of import. It seems that my heir is set on scrambling your thoughts.”

There seemed to be nothing in this world that brought more joy to Feyd-Rautha’s face than the sight of you and his unborn child. He’s more protective of you now than ever, having guards always posted near you, having you wear a shield during all public appearances. Not to mention, he was damn near insatiable in private. His hands and mouth are practically dragged away from you and your growing stomach every morning.

You give a chuckle. “I’d heard about pregnancy brain before, but never knew it to be this taxing! Perhaps I’ll take a walk later if I’m feeling up to it.”

Feyd gives your cheek a soft pat before rising to his feet, “Rest, my darling. I shall check in on the both of you later.” His hand rests next to yours, giving your belly a quick rub before he walks towards the door.

Your head goes to set on your pillow, the warmth from the tea running through your body. You must be really tired, since you fall asleep so quickly.

Quick enough to not hear the deadbolt lock clicking from the outside once the door is closed.

Flowers, I remember field of flowers

Soft beneath my heels

Walking in the sun, I remember someone

Someone by my side, turned his face to mine

The dreams start to encroach your mind while you are awake. You continue to follow your doctor’s instructions: take your daily tea, rest often, don’t overexert your body or your mind. But, ever persistent, they push through, finding parallels with your daily life to latch onto.

A hand, gently enlaced with yours, guides you through a meadow—

You husband’s hands lead you to stand with him by his uncle’s side, preparing for another ceremony.

A laugh, familiar and warm—

A chilling cackle of laughter reaches you in your viewing box, watching your husband gleefully slay another adversary in the arena.

Bright, yellow sunlight caressing your face and neck—

The black sun of Geidi Prime pulses in your periphery as you wave to a crowd below, your husband standing stoically next to you.

A kiss, given freely—

Feyd ravishes you in your chambers, lips melding together with yours.

My darling—

My love—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

My darling—

“Is everything alright, my darling?”

You blink, snapping back to the present. Pale, smooth skin and blue eyes, your husband extends his hand towards you. Safe. He gives you everything. You and your child will never struggle or suffer with him. You are safe with him. Aren’t you?

Blood splatters over a patch of bright pinks, yellows, and blues—

You give a bright smile.

If you ever walk this way

Come and find me lying in the bed I made

[sebstanaddict]

Red, White & You

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Enemies to lovers one shot)

Summary : Inspired by Bucky in the MCU becoming a congressman, I present to you this story which explained why he ended up becoming a politician. Sprinkled with some intense enemies to lovers moments, I hope you guys will like it ;)

By the way, I was already finished writing this when I realized he is a congressman and not a senator XD But I had no time to change it and I thought he was a senator in What If, so I decided to keep him as a senator here. Besides, running as a senator is more high stakes and high profile, which makes more sense for the story. Hope you guys will enjoy it ;)

Warning : some cursing, some non vulgar smut. If you're under 18, proceed with caution.

Word count : 7k

Read more Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan fanfics here

-----

The world had been broken before, but this time, it felt different.

After the Blip, after the battle against Thanos, after years of loss and chaos, people had tried to rebuild. But what did that even mean? The old systems didn't work anymore - if they ever had. The world wasn't just healing; it was searching, desperate for something new, something better. People needed hope. And not just the kind that came in the form of superheroes soaring through the sky. They needed real leaders, people they could trust, people who had seen the worst and still fought for something good.

The United States was no exception. The government was a mess, tangled in corruption and power struggles. The Senate was just another battlefield, full of the same egos and self-interest Bucky Barnes had spent a lifetime fighting against. He had no interest in joining that fight.

For the first time in decades, Bucky had found peace. He had spent years making amends, crossing names off his list, learning how to live with himself. The nightmares had faded, the weight of the Winter Soldier was no longer crushing him. And yet - what now? What did a man like him do when there was nothing left to run from? When his war was finally over?

He had thought about leaving the city, finding somewhere quiet where no one knew his name. But that wasn't who he was. Not really. He had fought too long to disappear now. He just didn't know where he was supposed to go next.

That answer came in the form of Sam Wilson and a woman who looked like she could topple empires with a single glance.

—--

Bucky had been a lot of things in his life - a soldier, a survivor, a man out of time - but a politician? Not a damn chance.

So when Sam knocked on his Brooklyn apartment door with a team of eager political strategists, all grinning like they had just won the lottery, Bucky was already bracing himself for whatever ridiculous pitch was about to come.

"No," he said flatly, arms crossed before Sam even had the chance to step inside.

Sam sighed, shoving the door open anyway. "Just hear me out..."

"No."

"Bucky... "

"Nope."

"At least let us sit down before you reject democracy entirely," a new voice cut in.

Bucky turned, and that was when he saw her.

Y/n L/n.

She was something out of a different world - polished, poised, and utterly unimpressed by him. Dressed in a perfectly tailored blazer, her sharp eyes scanned the room like she was already ten steps ahead. She carried herself with an air of certainty, like she had never lost an argument in her life. And maybe she hadn't.

She wasn't smiling. She didn't try to charm him. Instead, she strode inside, tossed a thick folder onto his coffee table, and said, "That's your polling data. You're already more popular than half the candidates in this race, and you haven't even announced. So, congratulations. You're running."

Bucky blinked at her. Then at Sam. Then back at her. "The hell I am."

"You are." She perched on the arm of his couch, all sharp edges and authority. She clicked her pen once. Twice. Like a metronome of impatience. "The American people like you. They trust you. You have a better shot than anyone else."

Bucky scoffed. "I don't even like politicians. Now I'm supposed to be one?"

"You don't have to like it," she said smoothly. "You just have to be better than the alternative."

Bucky exhaled sharply. He knew what she meant. There were too many corrupt, power-hungry bastards in Washington looking out for themselves, and Sam had spent months railing about the mess they were in. But that didn't mean Bucky had to be the one to fix it.

He turned to his best friend. "Sam. Seriously?"

Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, man. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could do this. People need someone like you. Someone real."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment. His gut told him to walk away, tell them all to shove it. But something about the way Y/n was looking at him - calm, expectant, like she already knew the answer - made him pause.

"Give me two weeks," she said suddenly.

He frowned. "What?"

"Two weeks," she repeated. "If I can't convince you by then, I'll walk away."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust her. Too polished. Too confident. Too damn sure of herself. But he also knew Sam wouldn't have brought her here if she wasn't good. And if this was what it took to get her off his back...

"Fine. Two weeks."

Y/n smirked, shaking his hand. "You won't regret it."

Bucky already did.

—--

The next morning, his regret solidified when she showed up at his apartment at seven a.m.

She knocked once before letting herself in like she owned the place. "Rise and shine, Senator Barnes."

Bucky groaned, rolling over on his couch. "You can't just barge in here."

"You gave me your address."

"For meetings. Not home invasions."

"Tomato, tomahto." She dropped a suit bag onto his chair. "Wear this."

Bucky cracked one eye open to glare at it. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Y/n gave him a once-over, unimpressed. "Unless you're planning to campaign as the poster boy for 'Brooklyn Man in Crisis,' you need a better look."

He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. "You're insufferable."

She grinned. "And you're going to be a senator."

God help him.

—--

Bucky should've known two weeks with Y/n would feel like two years.

From the moment she barged into his life, she was relentless. She had a plan, a schedule, and a level of energy he didn't know how to handle. She dragged him across the city, introducing him to people he supposedly needed to meet, and he hated every second of it - until he didn't.

The first stop was a veteran's shelter.

Bucky had no idea what she expected him to do here, but the moment he stepped inside, everything felt familiar. The smell of instant coffee and cheap floor cleaner, the low hum of a broken television in the corner, the weight of men and women carrying too much on their shoulders.

Y/n introduced him to Robert, a Vietnam vet in a tattered army jacket with a wheelchair that barely rolled.

"Barnes, huh?" Robert eyed him, unimpressed. "You got that soldier look."

"Yeah," Bucky admitted. "Got the baggage to match."

Robert huffed a laugh. "Join the club."

Bucky listened as Robert told him about the shelter's struggles - how the government aid barely covered meals, how the VA left calls unanswered, how the system forgot about the people who fought for it.

He was still listening when Robert shifted in his wheelchair, wincing as the wheel snagged against the floor.

Bucky crouched down. "What's wrong with it?"

"Damn thing's falling apart," Robert muttered. "VA won't replace it for another year."

Without thinking, Bucky rolled up his sleeves, inspecting the rusted bolts and worn-out bearings. "You got any tools?"

Robert looked surprised. So did Y/n. But ten minutes later, Bucky was on the floor, sleeves dirty, fingers working with muscle memory as he patched up the chair. When he tested the wheels and felt them glide smoother, he exhaled, satisfied.

Robert grinned. "Maybe you ain't just another pretty face after all."

Y/n's voice was quiet when she said, "I told you."

—--

The next stop was a family-owned diner on the verge of shutting down.

Linda, the owner, was in her late fifties, with tired eyes and a forced smile. She poured them coffee and explained how a chain restaurant opened two blocks away, stealing her customers and threatening to erase thirty years of her life's work.

Bucky saw the exhaustion in her hands as she gripped the coffee pot. The weight of running a business, trying to compete with corporations that had lawyers and loopholes.

"I don't wanna shut down," she admitted. "But I can't survive another year like this."

Y/n leaned forward. "If a senator fought for policies that actually protected small businesses instead of bending to corporations, would it make a difference?"

Linda scoffed. "It'd change everything."

Bucky watched the way Y/n studied Linda - how she genuinely cared. He was starting to understand that this wasn't just politics to her. It was about people.

And for the first time, he wondered if it could be for him, too.

—--

The last visit was to a single mother named Marissa.

She lived in a cramped apartment with peeling paint and a broken heater, raising two kids while working two jobs. She told them how childcare was so expensive that working barely made sense, how health insurance barely covered her son's asthma medication, how politicians always promised to help but never did.

When Bucky met her daughter, a five-year-old with bright eyes and tangled curls, she tugged on his sleeve.

"Are you a superhero?"

The question hit harder than he expected.

Bucky knelt to her height. "Not really."

"But you help people?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Trying to."

She beamed. "Then you're a superhero."

And that? That stuck with him.

—--

That night, Y/n drove him back to his apartment.

She was quiet for the first time since he met her. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer. "So?"

Bucky exhaled. He still didn't trust the system. He still didn't want the spotlight. But tonight, he realized something - if he didn't do it, someone else would. And they might not give a damn.

He glanced at her, then out the window.

"I'll think about it."

Y/n smirked. "That's politician talk, Barnes."

He shot her a look. "Shut up."

She laughed. "You're already getting good at this."

—--

The next morning, Bucky woke up with the weight of yesterday still pressing on him. The stories he'd heard - the veteran struggling to get by, the small business owner drowning in red tape, the single mom working two jobs just to stay afloat - echoed in his mind.

He wasn't a politician. He wasn't a leader. Hell, he barely had his own life figured out. But something about yesterday wouldn't let go of him.

Y/n had been right about one thing - if he didn't step up, someone else would. And that someone might not care about the people who actually needed help.

By the time he made his way to the campaign office, she was already there, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, barking orders at an assistant who looked terrified.

Her eyes flicked to him the second he walked in. "Oh good, you're here. We have a lot to - "

"I'm in," Bucky said, cutting her off.

Y/n froze mid-sip. Blinked. Then, very slowly, a smirk spread across her face. "You're gonna have to say that again. For legal reasons."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I said I'm in. I'll run."

She grinned like she'd just won the lottery. "God, I love being right."

Bucky sighed, already regretting this. "Don't make me change my mind."

"Oh, no chance, Barnes," she said, already reaching for a stack of folders. "Now sit down. We've got work to do."

And just like that, the fight began.

—--

Y/n had worked with stubborn candidates before, but Bucky took it to another level. He refused to follow a script, hated media training, and had an allergic reaction to the word fundraiser. He was a walking PR disaster waiting to happen.

"I'm not saying you have to lie," she argued, pacing the room as he leaned against a desk, arms crossed. "I'm saying you need structure. A message."

Bucky scoffed. "People don't want scripted bullshit."

"No, but they want confidence." She threw up her hands. "Do you think Captain America winged his speeches?"

His jaw clenched. "I'm not Steve."

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "No. But you're running for Senate. And senators speak to people."

"Yeah? Well, I'd rather speak like a human than a goddamn teleprompter."

She groaned in frustration. "You are impossible."

And he was. The same way he refused to wear a damn tie to the fundraiser she'd been planning for weeks.

"It's a tie, Barnes," she said, arms folded as she blocked his path.

"I hate ties."

"Oh, I'm sorry - are they strangling your delicate little neck?" she shot back.

He smirked. "You wishing you could strangle me, sweetheart?"

She made a strangled noise. "Yes!"

The tension between them simmered like a slow-burning fire, always waiting to explode.

And one night, it did.

—--

The office was dimly lit, the city skyline glowing through the windows. It was past midnight, and they were alone, trapped in yet another heated argument.

"This is not how you win a debate," Y/n snapped, throwing a folder onto the desk. "You need to stop acting like you can just wing it!"

Bucky's hands curled into fists. "I don't need a script to tell me how to care about people."

"No, but you need one so you don't screw yourself over." She stepped closer. "I don't understand how someone who actually gives a damn can be this stubborn."

"I don't understand how someone so smart can be this damn controlling."

Her breath hitched. He was too close.

The tension in the air shifted, something sharp and electric. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Her pulse thrummed wildly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, with a growl, Bucky slammed his hands on the desk behind her, caging her in.

Y/n sucked in a breath. He was right there, inches away, heat radiating off him in waves. His blue eyes burned into hers, his jaw tight, his breathing ragged.

Her back pressed against the desk.

His fingers twitched like he wanted to grab her.

And then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out.

Leaving her standing there, breathless, heart pounding, wondering what the hell just happened.

—--

Something changed after that night.

The fights didn't stop - but they became different. Less about proving each other wrong, and more about understanding.

Y/n started to see it - the way Bucky avoided scripted speeches, not because he didn't care, but because he felt too much. The way he hated fundraisers, not because he was lazy, but because he despised the idea of rich donors controlling politics.

And Bucky? He started to see it, too.

The way Y/n fought for his campaign like it was her own life on the line. The way she anticipated every obstacle before it happened. She wasn't just good at this. She was brilliant.

And for the first time, he realized - maybe she wasn't his enemy.

Maybe she was the reason he had a shot at winning at all.

—--

Bucky never imagined himself in politics. He wasn't cut out for speeches, handshakes, or the endless parade of fundraisers. But once he made a decision, he committed. And if he was going to run, he was damn well going to win.

Bucky officially entered the race, and the world took notice.

The media loved it. The New York Times called him The War Hero Washington Needs. Talk shows and political analysts couldn't stop talking about the ex-soldier-turned-senatorial candidate. Social media flooded with clips of him speaking - raw, unscripted, genuine. He had that rare quality that made people listen.

Y/n watched the madness unfold with a mixture of awe and annoyance.

Because as much as she hated to admit it, Bucky Barnes was a natural.

He was charismatic, self-assured, and - when he actually listened to her - practically unstoppable.

"Admit it," he teased after a particularly successful rally, leaning against her desk. "You thought I'd suck at this."

She gave him a flat look. "I still think you suck at this."

His smirk deepened. "The polls say otherwise, sweetheart."

She hated how much she enjoyed this.

But the honeymoon phase didn't last long.

—--

It started with a headline: "Can We Trust the Winter Soldier in Washington?"

Then came the stories. The grainy footage. The whispers of blood on his hands.

His opponents had been waiting for this moment.

They called him a terrorist. A murderer. They dredged up every dark piece of his past and plastered it across news stations and debate stages.

Bucky took it all in silence.

And then, one night, he walked into Y/n's office and dropped a newspaper on her desk.

"I'm done."

She stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He exhaled slowly, jaw tight. "They're never gonna let me move on. Doesn't matter how many people believe in me - this campaign is over."

Y/n clenched her fists. "So that's it? You're just quitting?"

His glare was sharp. "You think I don't want to fight? You think I don't want to - " He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I'm tired, Y/n."

She stood, slamming her hands on the desk. "You don't get to be tired."

Bucky blinked.

"You think I don't know what they're saying about you?" she continued, voice heated. "You think I don't see how much it gets to you? But you do not get to let them win."

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

"You are not the Winter Soldier," she said fiercely. "Not anymore. And if you quit, you let them define you forever."

Bucky swallowed hard. "Y/n..."

"No." She shook her head. "You listen to me, Barnes. You want this. You deserve this. And I didn't waste my time dragging your stubborn ass into this race just for you to back out when it gets hard."

Silence filled the space between them.

Then, slowly, Bucky exhaled.

"...You really don't like losing, do you?"

She crossed her arms. "No. And neither do you."

A slow, tired smirk tugged at his lips.

"Fine," he murmured. "Guess we keep fighting."

—--

That night, after a brutal press conference where reporters refused to let up on his past, Bucky showed up at her office with a bottle of whiskey.

"I swear, if one more reporter calls you a brainwashed assassin... " she muttered, rubbing her temples as she watched the coverage.

"They're not wrong," Bucky muttered, pouring them both a glass.

She shot him a look. "They're not right, either."

He didn't respond. Just handed her a glass and sank onto the couch beside her.

For a while, they drank in silence. The city lights flickered outside the window.

"I never wanted to be a hero," Bucky admitted suddenly. His voice was low, tired. "Didn't ask for it. Didn't want it."

Y/n watched him carefully. "Then why are you doing this?"

His fingers tightened around the glass. "Because... you were right."

Her breath hitched.

He turned his head slightly, blue eyes locking onto hers. "I want this. Even if it's messy. Even if it's hard. I want to fight."

Y/n's chest tightened.

Slowly, she turned back to her drink. "I never wanted to fall for a candidate," she murmured.

Bucky froze.

Neither of them made a move.

A thick, charged silence settled between them, the weight of unspoken words pressing into the space where they sat. The dim glow of the office lamp flickered against the amber liquid in their glasses, but neither of them took another sip.

Bucky watched her carefully, the words settling between them like a live wire, humming with something unspoken.

His fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles pale. Then, in a voice rougher than before, he murmured, "I never wanted to fall for my campaign manager."

Y/n's breath hitched.

Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face before letting out a dry, humorless chuckle. "But here we are."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air between them thickened, heavy with everything they weren't saying.

Finally, he exhaled, his fingers tapping against his glass. "I never wanted this either," he admitted, voice low. "But somehow... it feels like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Y/n swallowed, gripping her glass a little tighter. "Good," she said quietly. "Because I don't work with quitters."

Bucky let out a breath that was almost a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I figured that out."

For a moment, everything felt suspended in time - just the two of them, the campaign, the weight of their choices pressing down like an inevitability neither of them could escape.

Then, without another word, Bucky stood, downed the rest of his drink, and left.

The moment he was gone, Y/n exhaled sharply, setting her drink down with a clink.

Damn him.

Damn the way he looked at her. Damn the way he made her care.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, willing away the storm inside her chest. Because this was temporary. It had to be. The stakes were too high and they couldn't afford any mistakes. And being with him would be the biggest mistake she could ever make.

—--

The weeks leading up to the election blurred into a whirlwind of rallies, interviews, and endless strategy meetings. Every day felt like a battle, not just against the opposition, but against the weight of expectations, the relentless media cycle, and the ghosts of Bucky's past that refused to stay buried.

For Y/n, it was all-consuming. She barely had time to breathe, let alone sleep, her mind constantly spinning with talking points, damage control, and making sure Bucky didn't self-sabotage. He was brilliant, infuriatingly so, but he also had a habit of ignoring every carefully crafted plan she laid out for him.

And Bucky? He was exhausted, but he wouldn't admit it. The pressure of it all sat heavy on his shoulders, his name dissected in headlines, his past dragged through the mud. He knew this fight was bigger than him, but that didn't make it any easier.

And Y/n - Y/n was right there in the thick of it with him.

Which was why, when another long, brutal day finally broke them both, the tension snapped like a live wire.

"You have to stop going off-script!" Y/n snapped, shoving a stack of notes against his chest.

Bucky barely caught them before they scattered to the floor. His grip tightened, knuckles flexing as he let out a sharp exhale. "Maybe if your scripts didn't sound like a damn robot, I'd actually use them."

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, I'm sorry that actual, thought-out speeches aren't good enough for the great Bucky Barnes."

He stepped closer, his voice low, rough. "And I'm sorry you think I need a damn leash just to talk to people."

Y/n tilted her chin up, refusing to back down. "Someone has to keep you in line."

Bucky's jaw ticked, his fingers curling around the edge of the papers still pressed between them. Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked. The tension was thick, electric, sparking between them like a live wire.

The stack of notes crinkled as his grip shifted, the paper caught between their hands the only thing keeping them apart. The way she was looking at him - heated, daring, like she wanted to push him further - made his pulse pound.

He wasn't sure who moved first. Maybe it was her, maybe it was him, but suddenly they were too close, the air between them charged.

Her breath hitched when his fingers brushed against hers, just barely, just enough to send a shiver up her spine.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but there was an edge to it, a slow, deliberate weight. "You think you can handle that?"

Y/n swallowed, her throat bobbing. She should've stepped back. She should've put distance between them. Instead, she held her ground, her breath quickening as his gaze flickered down, tracing the curve of her lips before dragging back up to meet her eyes.

Her pulse hammered.

His fingers flexed.

The moment stretched, thick with something neither of them were willing to name.

Then - just as suddenly as it had come - Bucky stepped back. The papers slipped from his grip, falling to the floor between them.

Y/n exhaled sharply, blinking away whatever that had just been.

Bucky smirked. "See you at the fundraiser, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, hands trembling, and mind racing with a thousand thoughts she had no business thinking.

Damn him.

Damn the way he looked at her, the way his voice got all low and rough when he was trying to push her buttons. Damn the way he smelled - clean and sharp, something like cedarwood and stubbornness. And damn the way her body reacted every time he got too close.

She shook herself, gathering the fallen papers with sharp, jerky movements. She didn't have time for this.

But ignoring it was easier said than done.

—--

The tension between them didn't fade after that night. If anything, it got worse.

The next morning, they had a meeting at headquarters. Y/n arrived early, coffee in hand, already scanning through the latest poll numbers. She didn't even notice when Bucky walked in - at least, not until he leaned over her chair, close enough that she felt the heat of him against her back.

"Black coffee, no sugar?" His voice was amused as he plucked the cup from her hands.

She turned, scowling. "Excuse me?"

He smirked, taking a slow sip - too slow, too deliberate. "Just making sure you're not poisoning me."

She huffed, yanking the coffee back. "Please. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't waste a perfectly good coffee to do it."

Bucky chuckled, that low rasp of his sending a flicker of heat down her spine. But she refused to let him see how much he got under her skin.

Unfortunately, that was becoming harder by the hour.

At the next campaign stop, it was even worse.

They had a rally in the city, and Y/n was supposed to be watching from backstage, making sure everything ran smoothly. But then Bucky, in all his reckless glory, decided to go off-script again, throwing in some charming, impromptu remarks that had the crowd eating out of his hand.

She stood there, arms crossed, biting the inside of her cheek. Damn him for being good at this.

When he finally walked offstage, flushed from the adrenaline, grinning, she grabbed his arm, dragging him into a quiet hallway.

"You cannot keep doing that," she hissed.

Bucky arched a brow. "Doing what?"

She groaned. "Going off-script! Improvising! Making my job impossible!"

He smirked, stepping closer. "Oh, sweetheart. If you think this is me making your job impossible, you should see me when I'm actually trying."

Her breath caught.

He was close. Too close. His eyes dark, locked onto hers, his lips curled in that cocky little grin that made her want to slap him - or maybe kiss him.

The worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.

Y/n squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "Just - stick to the damn speech next time."

Bucky tilted his head, studying her, then smirked. "No promises."

—--

By the time the night of the fundraiser arrived, the tension between them was unbearable.

Y/n had spent the whole evening pretending not to notice the way Bucky looked in that perfectly tailored suit - how the fabric hugged his broad shoulders, how his tie was just slightly loosened like he couldn't be bothered to be fully put together. He looked unfairly good, and worse, he knew it.

She was doing a great job avoiding him, too. Right up until they ended up in the elevator together.

Alone.

The doors slid shut with a quiet chime.

The air immediately felt too thick, the space too small.

Bucky leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching her with that slow, assessing look that always made her insides twist.

"You've been avoiding me," he said.

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. "I've been busy."

He smirked. "Uh-huh."

Silence stretched between them. The hum of the elevator filled the space, the soft, distant chatter of the fundraiser slowly reached them as they ascended.

Then - Bucky shifted.

Not much, just a slight push off the wall, a subtle step closer. But it was enough.

Y/n's breath hitched.

His gaze dropped - to her lips, then back up, slow, unhurried. The air between them was thick, humming, electric.

He reached out, just barely brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was barely there, the tips of his fingers ghosting against her skin.

Y/n swallowed hard.

"Careful, Barnes," she murmured, forcing a smirk. "People might start thinking you actually like me."

His lips quirked, but his voice was lower when he replied. "What if I do?"

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Bucky stepped back, smirking as he gestured for her to exit first.

"After you, sweetheart."

Y/n exhaled sharply, forcing herself to walk forward like her knees weren't about to give out.

Damn him.

Damn herself.

And damn whatever the hell this was between them.

Because it wasn't going away.

If anything, it was getting worse.

Then came the moment of his speech at the fundraiser.

A disaster.

Bucky went completely off-script again, saying something reckless about corporate donors that had Y/n seething.

"Are you insane?" she hissed the moment they stepped off stage, grabbing his arm. "You just alienated half the people funding this campaign!"

He yanked his arm away. "I told the truth! You should try it sometime."

Y/n's nails dug into her palm. "You think this is some noble fight? This is politics, Barnes!"

"Yeah?" He turned on her, stepping way too close. "And?"

The air thickened.

They were too close.

His chest brushed hers. Her breath hitched.

His jaw was tight, his breathing uneven, and his eyes - god, his eyes burned, locked onto her with a mix of frustration and something darker, something that made her stomach flip.

Her pulse pounded.

Then, his gaze dropped.

She saw it.

The flicker of hesitation. The war happening in his head.

And then, in the next breath, he snapped.

Bucky grabbed her wrist, yanked her into the nearest dark room, and slammed the door shut.

"Hey - "

But she never finished the sentence.

Because Bucky was on her.

His hands gripped her waist, her back hitting the wall with a quiet thud. His body pressed against hers - heat, tension, the sharp inhale she barely had time to take before his mouth crashed into hers.

Messy.

Desperate.

Like weeks, months of biting back every unspoken thought had finally exploded.

His hands were everywhere - skimming her ribs, gripping her hips, fingers digging in like he needed to anchor himself. Y/n gasped against his lips, her own hands yanking at his tie, pulling him closer, closer, closer...

His teeth scraped against her bottom lip, pulling a soft sound from her throat that made him groan, low and rough.

"Fuck," he muttered against her mouth, his forehead dropping against hers for a fraction of a second. His breathing was ragged, his grip on her tight.

Y/n swallowed, chest rising and falling against his.

This was bad.

This was reckless.

But then Bucky's lips traced along her jaw, hot, open-mouthed kisses dragging down the side of her neck, and suddenly she didn't give a damn.

Her head tilted back, hands gripping his shirt, her own breath shuddering when his tongue flicked against her pulse point.

"Bucky," she whispered.

His body tensed.

And then - just as quickly as it started - he pulled back.

Like he was waking up from a dream.

Like the weight of it all had just come crashing down.

Silence.

Harsh, panting breaths.

The air between them was still charged, thick, suffocating. But something had shifted.

Bucky's hands lingered on her waist. His thumb brushed her blouse - once, twice - before he stepped back.

His jaw was tight. His expression unreadable.

And then... he kissed her again.

This time slower, deeper.

Not just frustration. Not just tension.

This was giving in.

Y/n whimpered as his hands found her thighs, lifting her against the wall. Her skirt rode up, his fingers digging into bare skin as her legs locked around his waist.

Her mind screamed at her to stop.

But then his mouth was back on her throat, his hips rolling against hers, and any thought of stopping vanished.

It was fast.

Clothes pushed aside, hands desperate, mouths bruising.

A slip.

A mistake.

A perfect, shattering mistake.

And when it was over, when their breathing slowed and the reality of what they had done settled between them, Y/n found herself staring at the ceiling, trying to steady her pulse.

Bucky was silent.

Then, with a deep breath, he pulled away.

Fixed his shirt. Straightened his tie.

Y/n swallowed, smoothing down her skirt with trembling fingers.

They didn't speak.

Didn't look at each other.

And when Bucky finally reached for the door, he paused - just for a second.

Then he left.

Y/n exhaled sharply, staring at the empty space where he'd just been.

She didn't move for a long time.

And just like that, they went back to the way they used to be.

As if nothing had changed.

Even though everything had.

—--

The next morning, Y/n sat stiffly at her desk, her fingers gripping a pen she hadn't used in minutes.

Bucky stood across from her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

They didn't talk about it.

Didn't dare.

But the air was different now - charged, restless, crackling with something unsaid.

Every glance stretched too long. Every breath felt too shallow.

And every touch - accidental, fleeting - was a live wire.

Y/n felt it when his fingers skimmed her wrist in a meeting, the warmth lingering far too long.

Bucky noticed the way her breath hitched whenever he leaned in close, the way her pupils dilated when he said her name.

They should stop.

They really should.

But neither of them did.

—--

Sam noticed.

Of course he did.

One night, after a particularly tense briefing, he pulled Bucky aside, arms folded, expression heavy with suspicion.

"You and Y/n."

Bucky blinked. "What about us?"

Sam scoffed. "Don't play dumb. I see it."

Bucky clenched his jaw.

"You wanna throw your whole campaign away for this?" Sam pressed, voice low. "Because if this gets out..."

"It won't."

Sam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Man, I know you. And I know her. And whatever this thing is, it's dangerous."

Bucky said nothing.

Because he knew.

The warning sat heavy in his chest long after Sam walked away.

He knew the risks. Knew what was at stake. But none of that changed the way his pulse jumped every time Y/n was near. It didn't erase the memory of her lips, the way she had fit against him, the way her breath had trembled when he dragged his mouth down her throat.

It didn't erase the way she had looked at him after - like she knew it was a mistake but still wanted more.

They hadn't spoken about that night.

Hadn't touched again.

Hadn't let themselves want again.

At least, that was the lie they told themselves.

Because it was there.

In every stolen glance. In the way their fingers brushed too long when she handed him a file. In the way her voice softened, just a fraction, when she called him Barnes.

In the unbearable, suffocating tension that neither of them dared to break.

Bucky wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

But with the final debate looming and the weight of the entire campaign pressing down on them, there wasn't time for mistakes.

—--

Bucky had faced war. He had taken down enemies, survived impossible missions, and fought battles no man should have walked away from. And yet, standing in Y/n's office, just hours away from the final debate, he felt something he hadn't in a long time.

Fear.

Not the kind that crept up on you in the dead of night, whispering reminders of past sins. No, this was different. This was the fear of failure. The fear of losing.

He wanted to win now - not just for the people, not just to prove to himself that he was more than his past, but for her.

For the woman who had dragged him into this campaign, who had fought for him even when he gave her every reason not to. The woman who had challenged him, frustrated him, made him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years.

And now, she sat behind her desk, arms crossed, watching him with that sharp gaze that always saw right through him.

"You're nervous," she said.

Bucky scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I'm not."

"You're pacing."

"So?"

"You never pace."

He stopped, exhaling sharply before turning to her. "I don't want to let you down."

That caught her off guard. Her brows lifted slightly, and she hesitated before speaking. "Me?"

Bucky clenched his jaw, his voice rougher than he intended. "Yeah, you. You're the reason I made it this far. You fought for me when I didn't deserve it. You believed in me. So yeah, I need to win this."

Y/n stood slowly, stepping around the desk until she was right in front of him. Close enough for him to smell the faint scent of her perfume, the one that had tormented him for months.

"Then get it together, Barnes."

His eyes darkened. "Barnes?"

Her lips curved slightly, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. "Until you prove you can actually stay controlled."

Something inside him snapped.

One second, they were standing inches apart. The next, Bucky had her backed against the desk, his hands gripping the wood on either side of her, his chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths.

Y/n's breath hitched, but she didn't back down. If anything, she leaned in, eyes locked onto his.

His nose brushed against hers, his lips hovering dangerously close, teasing.

"Control, huh?" His voice was rough, low, sending a shiver down her spine. "That what you want?"

Y/n swallowed, her resolve wavering for the first time. "Show me."

Bucky's grip tightened on the desk, his knuckles white. His whole body ached for her, months of tension reaching a breaking point. But instead of giving in, he pulled back at the last second, his breath ragged.

"Tomorrow," he murmured, his voice full of promise. "After I win."

And with that, he stepped away, leaving Y/n breathless and gripping the edge of the desk for support.

—--

The auditorium was packed. Cameras lined the back of the room, reporters perched on the edge of their seats, the audience buzzing with anticipation.

Bucky sat backstage, rolling his shoulders, exhaling slow, measured breaths. He could still feel Y/n's presence beside him, could feel the tension crackling between them like a live wire.

"Ready?" she asked, voice steady.

He looked at her then, really looked at her.

She was the reason he was here. The reason he wanted to win.

Instead of answering, he reached out, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest moment. A silent promise.

Then he stepped onto the stage.

The debate was a bloodbath.

His opponent came swinging, throwing every dark piece of his past at him - the assassinations, the destruction, the years of being the Winter Soldier.

But Bucky didn't flinch.

He looked straight into the cameras, into the eyes of every person watching, and he owned it.

"Yes, I have a past. A dark one. A violent one. And I've spent every day since fighting to make up for it. But I am not that man anymore. I am a soldier. A survivor. And I will fight for you the way I fought for my own redemption."

The crowd erupted.

His opponent was left speechless.

And Y/n - standing just offstage - watched him with something she had never seen before.

Pride.

—--

The announcement came hours later.

James Buchanan Barnes had won.

The victory party was chaotic. Reporters swarmed, cameras flashed, and people cheered his name. Music blared, champagne flowed, but Bucky barely heard any of it.

His focus was on her.

Across the room, Y/n was talking to a group of campaign staffers, but she felt his stare, turning to meet his eyes.

And that was all it took.

Bucky pushed through the crowd, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a dimly lit hallway, away from the noise.

She barely had time to react before his lips was on hers.

It was desperate. Months of tension, of late nights, of stolen glances and almosts - all of it exploded in that kiss.

Y/n gasped against his lips, her hands fisting in his suit jacket, pulling him closer.

He groaned, hands gripping her waist like he'd never let go.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, he smirked down at her. "Told you I'd win."

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart raced.

"Shut up, Senator Barnes."

Bucky chuckled, his grip tightening on her waist. "Say it again, sweetheart."

She huffed, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, she grabbed his tie - and yanked him down to her level, their noses brushing.

"You're insufferable," she muttered, but the way her fingers lingered against his jaw told a different story.

Bucky grinned, tilting his head like he was considering something. "You love it."

Y/n didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she kissed him again, slow and deep, like a promise.

The victory, the campaign, the chaos of the night - it all faded.

Here, in this quiet hallway, it was just them.

Just the two of them, pressed close, breathing the same air, caught in something neither of them could deny anymore.

Bucky traced his fingers down her arm, his touch deliberate, reverent. "You realize," he murmured, "this means you're stuck with me."

Y/n arched a brow, lips curving. "Oh, I've been stuck with you for months, Barnes. The real question is - " she dragged a hand over his chest, toying with the lapels of his jacket - "what are you going to do now?"

His smirk softened into something deeper, something real. "Keep fighting," he said simply. "For this. For you."

Y/n's breath caught, but before she could respond, his lips found hers again, slower this time, savoring.

The world outside could wait.

Tonight, they had already won.

[hergrandplan]

Girlfriend

This came along a lot quicker than I thought it would but all of a sudden, there it was. This is a little not-5 sentence fic (who else is not surprised?) based on this poll, which was a game created by @saynomorefic ! I went with a more loosely inspired by kind of fic, rather than a straight up line, also because I already had a fic idea for Girlfriend when Girlfriend first came out! Fun fact, actually, it was supposed to be for kinktober lol. Enjoy! 💜

“I just don’t know what to do!” Wille groaned, his head still in his hands like it had been for the past 10 minutes. And, like he had done for the past 10 minutes, Simon continued to rub soothing circles on his back.

“It’s like nothing I ever do is good enough for her, and it stresses me out.”

Simon hummed. “If you want to relax for a bit, I could suck you off,” he then joked.

It was a running gag between them – offering to give each other a hand job or a blow job, just for fun, just because they could joke about that. They’d always been comfortable with each other like that, and Simon loved that they continued to make those jokes even after he’d come out. Besides, Wille was as straight as a pencil; it was all talk. It always was.

But this time, instead of laughing, Wille’s head shot up.

“I’m kidding!” Simon quickly said, maybe for the first time ever. He never actually had to state that before. “I would obviously never want you to cheat on your girlfriend, that’d be ridiculous…”

His voice trailed off, his words faltering.

Because there was something about Wille’s look, that intense stare that had never made Simon squirm before, not until now.

If Simon didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he saw Wille’s eyes dart down to his lips.

But he could sure see Wille swallow.

Wille's eyes found Simon's again, but something had shifted. “What if I don’t want you to be kidding?”

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

Drunk Nanami - Confession

woah, I've been having this idea for a while and felt inspired to write a cute little drabble on drunk Nanami. enjoy! word count: <1000 tags: nanami x reader, fluff

image credit: link

“I wanna pin you to the bed so bad and have my way with you like I’ve been craving for the past fucking year, you absolute disaster to my sanity”.

At first, when you open the text and read it, you can’t quite comprehend the meaning behind these words. Though the text is soaked in not-so-pure intentions of the sender, the wording is weirdly… gentleman’ish. 

Then you finally notice the sender’s name and make a perfect “O” with your mouth.

Kento fucking Nanami? Really?

You would expect a filthy text from Gojo because that’s just something he does. Hell, you’ve even received plenty of dick picks from Toji though you’ve met the guy just once and during that encounter, he was head to toe covered in blood and someone else’s guts. But Nanami?

You stared at your smartphone for a while, not really knowing what to say.

It’s not like you didn’t want it. In fact, the situation was pretty much the opposite: you desired it badly. As soon as you walked in the office one year ago and saw him towering over the coffee machine, adjusting his tie with precise movements, you knew he’d be the death of you. And during this whole year, Nanami was a perfect gentleman to everyone, including you.

It was always “good morning, how are you today?” or “take care, they say it might rain later”. And it was never “hey let’s grab dinner together” or “your ass looks fire in these pants”. Of course, that was part of his charm — but on the other hand, you never knew how he’d react if you ever… tried anything.

The screen lit up with another text.

“Don’t you have anything to say, dollface? Usually your pretty mouth is overworking whenever I look at you in the office. And I bet I can put it to better use than discussion of some dull numbers”.

“Nanami, are you drunk?”, you texted the first thought that came to you and groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“What if I am?”, the incoming text read. 

And another incoming text, the one that made your heart skip a beat or two.

“Can I come over?”

*** ***

The doorbell rang loudly, announcing his arrival. You cursed under your breath, hoping the neighbors wouldn’t listen. After you took one final deep breath and glanced in the mirror, you went to the door, opening it.

Kento was standing there, in front of you, his usual tie around his neck and his perfectly ironed shirt missing two top buttons and revealing a painfully muscular chest. As soon as you opened, he lifted his gaze, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“Damn, you did let me come over”, he smiled and walked casually through the door in your apartment as if he had visited it before. You followed, too dumbfounded to say anything but Kento didn’t give you a chance to even open your mouth. After taking a step or two and hearing you closing the door, he turned around swiftly and threw his arms around you, pulling you close. 

“I’ll devour you”, his lips trailed on your neck, pausing at an earlobe and making your blood boil. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do it”.

“Why didn’t you?”

You somehow managed to ask questions, given the state you were in: pressed to his body, his hands roaming over your waist, back, hips, and hair. Nanami was a starved man, desperate for you, and you felt his intense hunger growing with every second.

“Because I was never 100% sure you’d want it”, he whispered, his lips now mere inches from yours. “Because you are too good for someone like me. Because of a hundred more made-up reasons that I always use when I’m too scared by a good thing”. 

“And now the alcohol made your fears go away”, you chuckled nervously, hypnotized by the look in his eyes. You’ve never seen him like this before. Right now, Nanami was the complete opposite of his usual self. He was… liberated? Was it the right word?

Nanami just sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He smelled wonderfully: rich woody scent mixed with something fresh like pine. The cologne crept in your nostrils, making a steady way towards a secret place in your heart. A place reserved for him only though you both didn’t know it yet.

“Can I ask for something?” He said suddenly, and your heart fluttered. Was he about to kiss you? Did he want to drag you in the bed? Was he interested in your body count?

You tensed up involuntarily, preparing for his question. Kento looked you dead in the eyes, his expression growing a bit more serious and determined.

“Can you… make me a sandwich?”, he asked shyly. “To be honest, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you’d actually invite me over so I was planning to eat at home”.

He chuckled awkwardly, and you burst into genuine laughter, grabbing his forearms and feeling incredibly at ease. So this drunk man who’d been wanting you for a whole fucking year just came in to ask for a sandwich? Wow.

“Yea, I’ll make two”, you wiped tears from your eyes, still giggling.

“Good. And I’ll make us breakfast in the morning”, he gave you a coy smile, his hands still wrapped around you.

“So… you mean you wanna stay over?”

“I wanna stay forever”, he kissed you softly. “If you don’t mind”.

You looked around, noticing how perfectly domestic Nanami looked in your apartment and nodded with a smile.

“Sounds good to me”.

He smiled back, his whole face lightening up. He then leaned in to you with a knowing smile.

“And by the way…”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

“I’m not drunk, sweetheart. Was just pushing my lack and damn, seems like I caught lightning in a bottle”.

[fattummyt]

Dracula Vlad Tepes | Mathias Cronqvist/Female Reader - Nicked 🌶️

Summary: An accident has left you with a harmless wound from Dracula's fangs. Ancient texts state that the bite from a vampire's fang has the ability to send humans into an extremely aroused state... but what about a nick?

Author's Notes: Y/N = Your name. I was recently inspired to make some art for this one. Tumblr gets to see it before AO3! AO3 readers had to wait a four year gap for chapter two, but Tumblr gets it all at once! I'm sorry AO3 readers I love you!!

Warnings: brief mentions of blood, slight reader injury, loss of control, restraints

Tags: extreme sexual tension, smut, aphrodisiacs, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, sweat, guilt, begging

Chapter 1: Tingling

As typical with the drab scenery of the manor, Castlevania was still and lifeless this afternoon.

The only place you could find solace in living--or rather, bubbling-- things was Vlad's elaborate laboratory that he was gracious enough to let you use.

You'd passed most of the day taking down notes in your leather-bound artists block completely undisturbed by your host. So needless to say, you were completely oblivious when he-- as mischievous as he is dashing-- drew close to you from behind and gazed over your shoulder, muttering, "Intriguing."

Instinctually you raised your hands in defense, nearly popping him right in the jaw.

Typical of the vampire race, Vlad's reflexes were plenty fast, but in this instance, not fast enough.

"Damn." He cursed, nursing his bloodied lip.

"God-- I'm sorry, are you okay?"

He exhaled, stilling his rising anger. "It's alright. It's just a mere flesh wound. Believe me, I've healed from far worse."

"Don't sneak up I'm me like that! I was so--"

He licked away the blood from his skin,  freezing momentarily as a look of shock painted his face.

"Give me your hand." He rushed to your side, flipping over your palm to reveal a good-sized set of nicks on your knuckles.

"You're bleeding." He gasped.

"Oh, I suppose you're right. It's just a flesh wound, nothing to worry about."

Vlad was not as satisfied however, cupping your injured hand ever so urgently.

"Y/N. Was this would already there or did my fangs cut you?"

Aside from less than thirty seconds ago, Vlad had never held you so close. You worried he could see the nervous sweat or the anxious tremble in your fingers.

"I-I'm not sure. It's so small I barely noticed."

"--Tell me Y/N." He stared into your eyes with a deep intensity. "Did you enter with this wound or not?"

You reflexively pulled your arm against your side, "--Why are you so concerned? It's a simple nick, nothing more."

He strummed his fingers through his hair nervously, pacing back and forth as you looked on, like a concerned spectator.

"--What does it feel like?" He interjected.

"Nothing, Vlad. It's a nick--" "--WHAT does it feel like? Is there a sting? A tingling? Tell me, what are you feeling in your hand right now?"

You swallowed tentatively at his sharp change in tone, glancing down at the floor.

"I suppose it tingles a bit."

With the rise of his hand, a book levitated from the ceiling length bookcase decorating the far wall, falling open on the table in front of him.

His eyes scanned the page with a look of strict dedication only to be replaced by a look of worry.

"Vlad, what in heavens is happening?"

He blinked the looming thoughts away, collecting himself. He shut the book with a newly relaxed visage, turning to face you.

"I apologize for my sudden change in demeanor, but." He swallowed. "I'm afraid you will not be returning home tonight, as you originally planned. You must remain here in my manor for the evening."

Taken aback by his statement, you backed away from the man.

"What do you mean I 'must remain'? That wasn't what we agreed upon. I must return to the village before sunrise or the people will grow suspi--" "--When you were wounded by my fangs, you were poisoned with a powerful aphrodisiac." He continued, reluctance tinging his voice. "If you leave now... you will not arrive before it begins to take effect."

"A vampire aphrodisiac...?" You scoffed, smiling in disbelief. "I do not believe in such things."

"This is no matter of magic nor fairytale. The ancient texts confirm it. Therefore. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to leave this manor."

You glared at each other in prolonged silence, save the sound of bubbling beakers.

The slim chance that you believed him steadily began to grow as you felt your hand begin to tingle and throb.

"Well." You started. "How do you intend to treat me?"

Your whimpers seemed to echo through the manor as Vlad paced every corridor in its entirety. Even in the deep dungeons below, he felt the call of his namesake falling flippantly from your lips.

As he neared your door again, your distress seemed to have died down to just tired whimpers until he entered the room.

"Vlad." You swallowed, voice hoarse with desperation. "Look at me, please, Vlad?"

"No. Y/N. You don't know what you--"

"--Touch me, please, Vlad." You urged, desperately rubbing your thighs together. "Please, sir, I'm so hot."

"Don't. Please. Y/N, stop." He pleaded, riddled with guilt and shame.

Even now, limbs tied to the bedposts in what is quite essentially your cell, you appeared more defiant than ever.

"Vlad--" You mewled, tugging against your restraints as he pressed his hand over your mouth.

Racing thoughts came looming back into his mind as he stared down at you, sweat dotting your skin.

What a poor, pitiful soul. You asked of none of this. It was his own actions that led to this. How cruel it was of him to tie you down as if you were some sort of vile creature.

In truth, it was he who was truly vile.

A deep tugging in his gut urged him to right this wrong, in some way. To offer you some mercy as a form of relief.

He raised the hem of your skirt to your knees, spreading your legs apart, his hands gliding across your sweat gleamed flesh.

Your muffled pleas fell silent as his hand slipped up your thigh, grazing your thoroughly soaked panties just enough that he noticed the shine upon pulling his hand away.

Your lips moved against his palm as he met your gaze, searching for a sign of consensus in you.

"May I?"

You nodded fervently, your eyes communicating such desperation as your thighs trembled for the touch of his hand.

"Forgive me..."

He raised his hand, unbuttoning his cape, letting it fall to the floor, followed by his ornate black trenchcoat.

"As I'm sure you'll soon become aware that it's been some time since I've..."

His hand hovered over the bodice of your off-shoulder blouse.

"Accompanied a woman in this way."

You watched in lip bitten suspense as his talonous nails dragged down the center of your laced up waistcoat, severing the ties, almost seamlessly.

Your body inadvertently arched as his fingers trailed down your stomach, ghosting over your pelvis.

"Please." Just barely audible, fell from your lips.

Chapter 2: Throbbing

Vlad pulled away to roll up his sleeves and immediately the aching need began to course through your body yet again.

"Please touch me." Mouth uncovered, you whimpered, practically shivering in anticipation.

"Hush now, please. Spare your voice, Y/N. I'll see to it that you're taken care of."

He smoothed his two fingers across your sodden panties, rather shocked to find your lips a bit swollen and puffy.

"My, you're quite further along than I expected. Your inner thighs are covered in ecstasy." He admonished. "How very inconsiderate of me to have kept you waiting."

With as little force as it would require a mortal to shred a sheet of paper, Vlad ripped at the seams of your panties, rendering them useless as he pulled them free from your body.

"Please allow me to offer you some retribution."

Vlad slid his two fingers between your lips, a look of quiet reverence painting his expression.

You gasped, breathing out a shaky moan as he brought his fingers to either side of your clit, rubbing alongside the sensitive spot before gliding thickly over it.

An inadvertently deep groan left his throat, as you throbbed rapidly against him, your moans growing louder as he massaged you in circles.

You panted, his hand pinning your skirt against your stomach rising with your impending orgasm.

"Vlad." and "Please." and some other mixture of orgasmic incantations chorused him as you quickly reached the peak of your orgasm.

Grinding harshly against his fingers as he continued determinedly, his eyes fixated on his task, driving you to your quick and noisy completion.

You looked on in quiet shock as he freed his hand from between your legs, examining his thoroughly slicked fingers and palm before bringing them to his lips.

He savored the taste of you, your musky scent enchanting him, one by one, he desperately sucked what was left of your essence from his fingers.

"What a splendid treat."

"More." Your voice, hoarse from begs and moans, pipes up.

"More?" He added.

“Inside me.” You begged, a desperate tremble in your voice as your body burned for his touch, damn near tears.

Perhaps this was going too far.

Though he thoroughly enjoyed himself, pulling these moans from you; free will to tease you and treat you in such a way.

He'd never forgive himself for it.

You braced your thighs together, a need for pressure growing that much more intense under his watching gaze.

Vlad couldn't possibly turn back around and abandon you in this state.

Sweat permeated your skin and the sheets beneath you, tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He'd never, even in his most sordid imagination, in his most carnal fantasies, he'd never imagined you so shamelessly craving him. Damn near begging him to spread you open.

Perhaps if he were of stronger will he could resist.

You parted your thighs obediently, readily offering him access as soon he leaned over your form.

Oh, Vlad was sick with how drunk this power over you made him.

You bore no shame in your excitement, your ecstasy, your glee.

Your chest rose and fell as your eyes followed his hands, a smile bitten back between your lips.

His fingers pressed into your tight, wet pussy and he practically shuttered.

With the warm, familiar sensation, something, which laid dormant in him, throbbed to life. Practically rising with need.

How long had it been since he'd last had reason to grow erect, let alone masturbate?

Almost as if you recognized it, the desperate, pained expression on his face, you rushed to beg again.

“Vlad–”

"No-- no."

He urged his hand over your mouth, once again.

This was not about him and his petty needs for self stimulation. This was about you. 

"More, more. Please." You slurred beneath his hand.

He had to help you in some way. 

"Deep inside me Vlad."

To ease your growing discomfort. 

“I need your cock.”

To make you cum. 

He freed his hands from your mouth,  fingers grazing over his cock, earning a subtle jerk of his hips.

He hissed, “My cock. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Vlad please. It's what I've always wanted.”

It was a treat all its own to watch you become so uncomposed, but to hear you admitting your salacious desire for his body… Vlad could not possibly refuse your call.

Removing his trousers was simply a task he was uninterested in busying himself with, merely slipping his cock free of his fly would suffice your hurried pleas.

The sensation that overcame him as he leaned over your form, skin glistening, clothes shredded by his efforts, your heels curving behind his thighs felt truly predatory.

You pulled it out of him.

You begged it of him.

To ravage you.

To make use of your holes as his own plaything.

Your deepest, darkest desires were steadily dripped into his present mind, diluting his rational thoughts into animalistic urges.

He was frenzied, no longer striving to assist your orgasm, but bringing yours on by chasing his own.

"Deeper-- deeper--"

He severed the ties binding your limbs to the bed frame to grab under your knees, lifting your legs higher. There, he found the impressive spot he was chasing. Where every thrust in pressed the head of his cock deeper in, enough that you'd be seeing stars.

The communication between you two had devolved into high pitched breaths, answered with fevered grunts, chorused by the instrumental of smacking flesh.

He was nearing his end, nails carving boldly into the headboard as his hips smacked against you. His heart raced with excitement, chasing the precipice of his pleasure, his cock throbbing as he was overcome with a jolting sensation he’d not felt in a millenia.

Vlad had collapsed on top of you, his hair ravaged, yet his head clearer.

Far clearer than he’d felt in some time now.

And as for you, slowly, more awareness returned to you. The dark circles at the edge of your vision began to lighten as your other senses, long neglected to focus on your intense pleasure, came back into focus.

“Y/N.” He whispered, caressing your face, voice gentle and low. “How do you feel?”

All you could muster was an exasperated laugh, waving your hand as if to beg for surrender.

He chuckled, glancing between you at the trail of cum spilled across your stomach.

“My. We’ve made quite the mess, haven’t we?”

“We have.” You smiled, biting your lip rather bashfully, as if all a sudden embarrassed by the pleasureful affair.

“I’ll go grab a towel--” “No.” You answered quickly.

“No?” He asked.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, guiding his head down, where he laid against your exposed chest.

“Stay with me, Vlad . ” You whispered.

Your heart panged rhythmically in your chest.

Perhaps even more so than the exhilarating sex, listening to your heartbeat was one of the most foreign, yet nostalgic sensations he’d experienced today yet.

“I can honor that request.”

Secretly, quietly, he hoped that perhaps, one day, if you allowed it, you'd come to know the effects that his bite may have on you yet.

Read the fic on AO3! | Patreon | BlueSky | Instagram | Website | Twitch

[babylacedream]

theres pain in your eyes cause youve gone through a lot

i always find myself back to you જ part 5 of ?

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

pairing: yandere!bucky barnes x f! reincarnated autistic reader

warning: struggling with bucky's death, grief, yandere themes, anxiety, obsessed!bucky, violence, angsty

summary: you found out what really happened to bucky but can you really accept him for who he is now?

notes: inspired by pinkpantheress unreleased song called close to you, I recommend listening.

please remember i am autistic, so i will be writing my personal experience with my autism. thanks!

oh, reader, you are so cooked <3 goodluck!

You were tossing and turning from a nightmare; you awoke; you had forgotten what it was about. You opened the door quietly. You went to your front door, trying to find the tote bag you left on the floor.

It was on the hanger; Bucky must have hung it up there. You grabbed it and went into your room. You scurried through the files. For every experiment that was conducted there, Bucky was in the middle of it all.

Bucky is an assassin.

It makes sense; the blood you found on his hand that night was his target's blood. You shivered at the thought of what he had been mindlessly forced to do.

You bit your nail out of reassurance, and once you've looked through every bit of information about HYDRA, it was no wonder why he acts like this. As if he's in this trance-like state.

Duh, stupid.

You groaned, annoyed and guilty that you yelled at him like this was his fault. Nothing was his fault. You looked at your clock; it was nine.

You organized the files, placing them again in the tote bag. You got off your bed and opened your bedroom door. You walked out and took a peek at Bucky on your living room couch. "Do you ever sleep?"

He looked up at you and didn't say anything before going back into that trance. Since he's been here, he's been taking showers; you could tell since he smelled good. But those clothes he's been wearing must be uncomfortable to wear all the time.

"Do you need clothes? I can get you some tomorrow when I go to work." No response to that, but you'll still get him necessities tomorrow.

You couldn't help but feel for him; this was your childhood friend, and the void in his blue eyes made you feel it all the more intense.

You are not sure if this is a good suggestion, but it is worth the shot. "Do you want to sleep in my bed?" Bucky looked up at you again, and this time responded and nodded.

"Come." You say as you walk out of the living room and into your bedroom. "Um, which side do you want?" Nothing, again, from him. You realize he only responds when it sometimes has something to do with you; other than that, he stays quiet.

You had a queen-sized bed, so it should fit both of you. You left the light on for Bucky. You remembered that he kept the living room lights on, and you took the right side of the bed against the wall, getting comfortable on your side. He was still standing there. You got out of bed and grabbed his hand before you pulled him in.

"Oh, your shoes." You gestured so he could take them off. Bucky took them off while still looking at you with that emotionless stare, including his clothes, and climbed in with you in bed.

You didn't want to look; it's disrespectful to do that, in your mind, so you closed your eyes. Shuffling with the blankets, you found your comfortable position. You were lying on your side, facing the wall.

While you were getting comfortable, Bucky wouldn't take his eyes off you like you were the most precious thing to him in his whole existence. Strangely enough, he has never felt this tired before. Only with you.

You woke up, stretching your arms and legs to notice the bed empty. "Oh, familiar," you thought. You got out of bed. When Bucky came into your room with a towel on his waist, fresh out of the shower.

You didn't look last night because... You had your reasons. You were shocked; he looked different, more built? You looked up, trying to avert your gaze, when you saw him smirk. He walked past you and sat on the bed.

"Oh, right, clothes! I'll quickly go and shower and... get you clothes!" You avoided looking down and awkwardly laughed, walking out of your room and into the shower.

After a much-needed shower, you dressed in your work clothes; you thought it would be better to wear your work clothes so you wouldn't have to change again. "I'll be back."

You were in a men's clothing store. You looked through dozens already. You bought him shirts, pants, a hat, shoes, and even boxers.

How do you know his size? Well, you don't need to ask.

You even bought him a couple of things he needed while staying there, like body lotion, body wash, a toothbrush, deodorant, and shaving stuff, if he wanted to use it.

Eventually, you made it back to the apartment to see him still sitting on your bed with the towel. You twitched, wondering if he was doing this on purpose.

You went to the room and laid out the clothes and necessities on the bed. "Well, do you like it?" You smiled, looking at your accomplishment. You saw his hands grip the towel; he was about to take off his towel! "Wait, let me get out of the room first!" You ran out of the room, breathing heavily.

You waited outside. The door opened, and instantly, your eyes widened. The hat on his head looked good, and the jacket he had on with the layer of shirts on him. The jeans also looked nice.

He looks like a model! As expected from the dreamboat from the 1940s. You internally clapped in your head.

The clothes seemed to fit him well. "Is it comfortable?" He nodded.

"Oh, I almost forgot." You looked in your bag and took out gloves for him to hide his metal arm thingy. "Here." Bucky took them.

"Well, I shall go to work now. Stay here."

You told him that, but why is he following you yet again? Is he a stray cat or something?

"Bucky, you can't follow me to work. Okay? I need to work. Why don't you try, uh, try feeding some stray cats?" You spoke without really thinking.

But, he was an assassin. An asset to HYDRA. What would those HYDRA guys do if they found him out here? You didn't really care about yourself, but you were worried about Bucky. You couldn't let those bastards take him.

"On second thought, never mind, just come with me." You grabbed his gloved metal hand and led him to your workplace.

"You wait here. I'll be working. You just, uh, play with this." You gave him a Rubik's cube. He instantly started playing with it.

You worked calmly, still occasionally checking on Bucky in the lunch room. You placed a sandwich on his lap. "Eat. I'll eat with you." You sat across from his seat and munched on your sandwich.

You didn't notice how his blue eyes looked as he intently watched you lick your finger clean. You were quite clumsy with your food; that sauce was on your lips. Bucky leaned in towards you across from the table, lifted his finger, and wiped the sauce clean off your lips.

"Oh, thanks."

That gesture reminds you of that time you were at the diner with Bucky. The sauce had gotten on your lips. "Clumsy, girl," he chuckled before lifting his finger and wiping it off.

Does he know what he's doing to you? No. And that's the worst part of it all. You had a very gloomy expression on your face.

You cleared your throat. "Excuse me."

Your store didn't have a bathroom, so you were in the bathroom across from a nearby store. You were sitting on the toilet, crying your eyes out.

You wished that none of this happened. You wished you could have been in your past body with Bucky growing old with him.

You cleaned your face, trying to hide any teary-eyed sign. After cleaning yourself up, you came out of the bathroom when someone bumped into you.

"Pardon." The man excused himself before he took a quick glance at you. You smiled politely and carried on with yourself back to work.

You were working with packages, storing them in the storage room, when you felt a familiar chest pressed against your back, giving you a sense of déjà vu. Bucky smoothly slides his hands around your waist, wrapping around them.

"Who were you with just a moment ago?" The tone in his voice was laced with authority and power.

"Oh, someone bumped into me when I was heading out of the bathroom." You said calmly, looking over your shoulder. You giggled, grinning at his expression. "What, jealous?" Bucky loosed his hold around your waist.

"Relax." You turned around to face him, placing your hands on his chest. You tipped-toed to his ear and whispered, "Or you might scare me away."

You removed your hands from his chest and worked on the boxes. "Why the hell did I do that?" You mentally hit yourself for trying to be slick.

Bucky was irritated. How dare they come close to you? You thought he was jealous, but it was more than just that. He felt infatuated with you.

In fact, he smelled those wretched vermin scents on you, and it made him want to completely take you for himself, right here. Right now.

But he knew you'd fear him.

So, he decided the easiest thing to do was to completely obliterate those parasites to make sure you'd be safe.

Bucky didn't want to tell you, but because you kicked him in the face that night, his memories started coming back in little bits of pieces, especially with the help of the locket.

Even his trigger words aren’t working. It seems your presence has dulled their influence entirely, reducing the strength of his brainwashing.

And the early confrontation that night with his target, Howard. He called his name, "Sergeant Barnes." And since you called out his name shortly after that, "Bucky," he remembered only you.

Bucky, no, The Winter Soldier, wasn't going to let them take his memories of you again, especially since he's found you, his Lyubimaya.

Bucky immediately knew it was you when you yelled at him, "This is mine!" telling him the locket was yours. "It was surely yours, my love." He left it for you to hold and cherish, and he was glad you cherished it so.

Everything about you screams of his lover. Your scent, your laugh, the way you gazed into his eyes. You were her, whether you wanted to deny it or convince yourself you no longer wanted to be, to protect yourself.

But he knew he had to be patient with you. After all, you were patient all those years.

Now, more than ever, he knew that for him to stay peacefully with you. The Winter Soldier was determined to make sure that the whole place blew up in flames.

Bucky walked out of the store, but not before taking one last glance at you organizing the boxes.

"This time, I'll come back to you, my love."

[alaydabug2]

Ok this has been the longest ineshot I've done in a while

@nowjumpinthewater I FINISHED IT

@ann-lol thus might be up your alley lol

Slightly inspired by this song

Human Au

(Keefe Pov)

The lights of the bar were starting to mush together. The music was filtering through his brain, hardly registering. Keefe stared down at his empty drink. He used his straw to push around the ice at the bottom of the cup.

Gosh, he hated himself for doing this again. He told himself he'd stop doing it. But... the bar was just down the road from his dorm room. And his dad had called him again to berate him about his major, and his grades, and anything else his dad felt like nagging him over.

So he found himself asking the bartender, "Can I get 'nother one of these, ma'am?"

The bartender placed the drink in front of him. He thanked her, then took a sip of the alcohol.

He watched as the people came in and out of the door. His eyes lazily tracked the people milling around the bar.

A girl with blonde hair came through the door. She took the stool next to him and ordered something.

Keefe should've been more wary of staring at her, but his intoxicated brain couldn't make himself care. Cause- wow -she was pretty.

Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in waves. Her eyes were a deep, intense brown.

If he wasn't so deep in drinking his sorrows away, he might've tried to flirt with her. But he was way too drunk for that right now.

The bartender leaned against the counter for a break. Keefe turned towards her and asked, "You ever think about life?"

She threw the towel over her shoulder. "Sometimes. How come?"

"Just been thinking."

He stared at the nearly drained glass, feeling his eyes water with guilt. He was so stupid for being here. What he needed to do was ask Tam to take his ID away so he couldn't go back to the bar. His roommate would be more than happy to oblige. He was never thrilled when Keefe would get back late, making a ruckus in the kitchen, then having a wicked hangover in the mornings.

"You ever feel so... useless?" He continued to the bartender. "Like you can never do anything right."

The bartender's green eyes softened. "Yeah. Occasionally."

"Do you know how to make your parents... proud of you? Nothing I do seems to make them happy. I just wish..." Keefe buried his face in his hands with a sigh. He was oversharing to strangers again, wasn't he. He lifted his head back up. "Never mind. Sorry. I'll just have another drink, please."

The bartender nodded, but just as she was about to walk away, a girl spoke. "I don't think he needs any more."

The bartender paused. Slowly, she said, "Well, we're legally not allowed to refuse service, so-"

"No," Keefe muttered. "She's right. I don't. I'll just take a water."

This was good. He needed somebody to call him out on his bullcrap. He turned to see who it was to have his tired eyes meet the blonde girl who had walked in earlier. He felt his face heat up.

The girl seemed to have just processed what she had done. She quickly sputtered out, "Sorry. That wasn't my place." Her gorgeous brown eyes shifted away.

"It's fine," he assured her. "You're right, I didn't." He waited for a breath before asking, "I'm Keefe. What's your name?"

"Sophie," she said. She searched his gaze for a moment before saying, "Rough week?"

Keefe slumped down in his seat. "More like a rough life. Sorry, just... going through it right now."

"I understand that."

She seemed to be around his age. But the look in her eyes gave her a sorrowful kind of wisdom. Like she had seen too much too early on. The same kind of look he saw when he looked in the mirror.

"What brings you over here?" He gathered the courage to ask.

Sophie stared at the condensation that was forming on the outside of her glass. Her eyes turned distant as if she were thinking of some far away dream.

Keefe knew it was his alcohol addled state that was talking, but gosh, she was attractive. Maybe he could shoot his shot...

And that thought was immediately squashed when she said, "Needed to get out of my dorm room." Her eyes shifted away from his. "It's been ten years today since my parents and younger sister died in a car wreck. My roommate is out of town, and I didn't want to be by myself."

He sucked in a breath. Here he was throwing himself a pity party while she was here grieving a family who actually loved her.

"I-I'm so sorry. That's awful," he murmured.

He felt like kicking himself. Yeah... maybe it wasn't the time or place to be hitting on her.

"It's okay," she said softly. "It's mostly just hard on the anniversary now. I was adopted pretty soon after, so it's not like I was in the system very long." Sophie took a sip of what looked like a Shirley Temple. "What about you?"

Well, this was awkward having to talk about his daddy issues.

"Just... can't seem to make my parents happy. No matter how hard I try, they're never satisfied."

Her eyes softened at him. She reached for his hand. Keefe's brain started screaming. He had to make an effort to keep his breath even, because he was freaking out. He usually was pretty good with flirting with other girls, even when he was drunk. But something about Sophie was making his brain short circuit.

"Well," she said, after what felt like an eternity of Keefe trying to keep it cool. "If you've never been able to please them, maybe that means you were never supposed to. Just do what you think is right."

He let that sink in for a moment. Somehow, it made his heart feel less heavy.

"Thanks," he told her. "That... actually helps a lot."

The smile she gave made him weak. "Of course." She checked the time on her phone, seeming a little disappointed. "Hey, it's getting kinda late. I need to get going. It was nice talking to you, though."

"Oh, alright." Keefe cringed at the disheartment leaking into his voice. "Thanks again, by the way. I... really needed somebody to talk to."

"No problem. Do you think, maybe, I could get your number. To have, just in case." An adorable blush painted her face

He hoped he didn't seem too eager as he hazily fumbled for his phone. They exchanged numbers, and soon, Sophie was walking out of the bar, waving bye to him.

Keefe stumbled back to his dorm room. If he was smart, he would have called a taxi. But now that he was alone in the cold dark, the effects of how much he had to drink were setting back in.

Coming up at a cross walk, he stopped. The lights were making his head hurt. He felt like puking. His dorm was only a little further, so he kept on walking.

He managed to open the door and about collapsed as soon as he walked in. He got to the kitchen to heat up his leftovers from the night before.

From the other room, Tam wandered out of the bedroom. He squinted in the light. "Dude, really? I'm never able to get any sleep on the weekends because of you! You need to quit this."

Keefe didn't have the courage to face his roommate. "Yeah, I know. I'm trying to stop."

Tam rolled his eyes and stalked back to bed.

Keefe stared down at the newly added contact in his phone. Sophie Foster. He wanted to text her, but she was probably asleep. Plus, she was likely just taking pity on him. He was pretty pathetic. He didn't stand a chance. A girl like her deserved better than his sorry butt. He thought about deleting it out of guilt, but something stopped him.

He couldn't figure out what it was, but as he lay in bed at two in the morning, he wanted to see him he could try to be someone she deserved. He hadn't known her for very long, but his now his heart couldn't let go of her.

[demigoddessqueens]

flower power

Summary: inspired by a scene in the last season of TLOVM. TLOVM and the reader are fighting some enemy in the fae realm and the reader gets thrown off into a patch of strange flowers. Yes, the sex pollen trope!! The enemy vanquished, the team checks in with each other and the reader is unaccounted for. They find them struck with a high fever and in growing agony. All eyes turn to the guys of Vox but the whole team knows of Percy’s long burning rush for the reader. He reluctantly volunteers, reluctantly because he doesn’t want his first time with you to be like this, but he doesn’t want you to suffer/die, obvs.

Read also here ao3

A/n - a million “thank you’s” to @zombiesnips-blog for this request

You had led him away from the group before it got more excruciating than it already was.

When you both got a good ways distance away from the party, you let your inhibitions run wild. All you could see, taste and feel was Percy. You melted into his body as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The more you deepened your kisses, tore at his clothes, Percy felt at odds with himself entirely. He WANTED you, and had been lost in his pathetically yearning thoughts for a while now.

However, this was such unbecoming of a young man raised in such an environment! He already could feel his heart racing when all eyes turned to him about the decision he would make, but now it damn near felt like it would burst out of his chest.

"Nngh...,w-wait! Stop, puh-please! We can't go on like this!"

You stared up in confusion at Percy's outburst as he attempted to make himself seem of good standing and not as a man trying to hide his arousal. But it didn’t stop the guilt he felt when he saw your expression.

It felt distasteful to indulge in such an act, but he couldn’t do this to you! Just abandon you and leave you out to dry in such state.

”Wh-why? What? You don’t want me..?”

He gripped tightly onto your shoulders as you could see the intensity of

“Of course I wanted you! I have since I could remember! But this?! You, me, this, your ‘condition’, and how it’s supposed to—.”

He cut off his stammering with a sharp inhale before he continued.

Cupping his face with your own hand, you placed a gentle kiss along his cheek.

“You deserve better…”

Peppering more along his face, they grew more heated.

“It’s ok, Percy, I trust you…it’s ok with me…”

Your words offered him internal relief for now. If things were different once your….”condition” wore off, then perhaps he could do this in a more intimate setting. You deserved that much at least. He would make good on that promise, but for now, there was no time left but to indulge you.

Already slick from the Fey Wild's pollen, Percy gasped at your arousal. Keeping his hand against your crotch, he began to rub his fingers against you with his hand down your clothes.

The heavy petting didn’t last long before you had him on his back with a sharp “oof!”

Undoing your pants and his, you grabbed his member that was beginning to twitch in your grasp. Slipping inside of you was nothing he had experienced before. So wet and warm, and such a tight heated fit around him.

Even though you were the one compromised, Percy felt his back arch off the ground as he adjusted to you. You undid the front of your shirt as well, just enough to where your breasts were on display.

It was so easy for you to chase after your pleasure, rocking your hips fast and slow as you liked. Just as you achieved one orgasm, another quickly followed you again and again. Beneath you, Percy could feel you pulsating around him. Bless his heart he tried to keep the moans low but there were the rare times you pulled a loud yelp from him when the grip tightened.

The praises and moans were strung with curses, and even if it was so crude, you thought him as ever the considerate lover.

He was a man not used to such outward displays of affections, but even if some straying eyes from his own or the Fey saw you, he wouldn’t give a damn!

What had seemed as a few minutes felt like hours when it was you two together. One orgasm after the other shook both of your bodies until Percy could give no more. He looked entirely spent and was beginning to gather sweat on his brow.

Collapsing into his arms, you could feel the effects slowly diminish from your body. Grateful for the “assistance”, you let yourself relax into him. Percy had you in a weak embrace but still felt his burning infatuation for you.

You both would find your way back to the group, but for now, the quiet moments were enjoyable.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Hi!!! Huge fan and I hope you had a good day in your part of the world💗💗💗

I was just reading ur period comfort fic with jay and was absolutely inspired with this idea for an (unequivocally self-indulgent) new fic:

what if reader has intense pain on their period (like can’t stand, can barely move, everything hurts/aches etc.) and goes nonverbal when the pain gets too much BUTT reader and jay had an argument before he went on patrol and so reader feels like they can’t call him because he’s still mad at them so reader just sticks it out miserably by themselves. only until jay asks oracle to check on your vitals (because he’s a cute little worry wart and still cares a lot🥰) and sees that you’re heart rate and breath rates are wildly irregular and he rushes home (fuck batman he can finish the job himself HIS BABY IS #1) and sees you bundled up in the covers curled in a ball crying. comfort, apologies, and making up and caretaking ensues!!!

i’m so sorry if this makes no sense or it isn’t something you’re comfortable with (your comfort is #1 bestie)!!!! Also, feel free to modify in any way!!!

SENDING KISSES AND LOVE💅🏾❤️

It makes good sense!! I have no problem writing this ✨

I hope yours is going good as well! It’s a very under weather day for me, so I apologize if this isn’t what you were expecting! ❤️

—

Time written - 1:27 a.m

Tags: Period. Slightly broody Jason. Special guest star menstruation crustacean.

Part 1 in reference

—

Being miserable chased you around like a damn disease today, doing lots of more harm than good.

The kind of pain that left you breathless. An agony so severe you find yourself apologizing to any God that listened, mentally screaming at your body to give you a damn break. It was a miracle how you managed to make it from the kitchen towards your bed, forgetting to get your charging phone from the couch.

Sure, you had your watch. Yes, you had a device nestled in your end table drawer used for emergency calls. Wayne-Tech, Batman related stuff.

You didn’t use it. Either you didn’t have the strength, or too hot-headed, you didn’t reach for a button.

You believed it wasn’t going to be as bad. The cramps you’d get about a week prior before you start weren’t as painful this time. This morning had such high hopes, such high promises for a good day.

It was too early to think too highly about it.

Your body believed it would be funny to fool you, forcing you into this pathetic, crippling state shortly around ten. Rarely would you start at night.

You would’ve thought the blame belonged to someone else, anyone else other than what you experienced now. It felt like your insides were being torn apart by devilish hands, nearly making you ponder the urge to scratch against your own abdomen.

The room was normally cool, but your body was terribly hot. A peculiar shiver brushing down your spine, your susceptible body curled up in a pitiful ball along the mattress.

The house was quiet and empty, save for your choked gasps as you son through this horrible pain. You craved comfort, more comfort than any warm blanket could provide.

The biggest comfort you quietly desired more than ever wasn’t here. It was a miracle that the front door still clung to it’s screwed up hinges after being recklessly slammed shut.

You two argued over cereal, over which take out to get from what restaurant, over celebrity crushes. His side eyes were as dangerous as his criminal bloodlust, but they were always done out of amusing intent.

This time was different. You couldn’t remember when it started, recalling when it ended was now a painfully dulled blur in the back of your head. The argument was nearly verbally severe, with enough yelling to rouse the worry of your neighbors. If they even cared.

No one really does in Gotham these days.

You lay in your pitiful slump in bed for what felt like hours. In your distress, you weren’t aware of your charging phone going off in the living room. Your screen bombarded with texts and still ringing phone calls.

One of Jason’s few reliefs he had was through a distasteful crook on patrols, as violence was a great distraction. On such a slow start, Red Hood was left stalking with his own thoughts, dealing with his temper all alone in the night’s silence.

Just because he was stubborn now, doesn’t mean that he didn’t have his moments of clarity once he caught a break. He sent you a reluctant, one worded sent text at first before rushing on. He couldn’t help but shake off this suspenseful feeling though, like a tense dissatisfaction on his tongue. Was it guilt? Was it shame?

Did he feel sorry for what he basically caused? Did he at least wanna attempt to own up to it?

After ten minutes, he sent another text. Again, he sends another after seven minutes, then another around three. You weren’t answering them at all, which was a little surprising. You believed you held a distasteful quirk about answering texts too fast, which was what Jason adored about you, responding to him in under five minutes. Or ten at most if you were busy.

It always let him know you were never bored of him.

This only made that suspenseful ball in his gut grow a little heavier, so he started to call.

After about three calls, still you didn’t answer. Now that hall grew hotter and hotter.

It makes the most obvious sense that you were still angry at him, but the least you could’ve done was pick up the phone and cussed him out before abruptly hanging up. Or at the very least send his calls to voicemail after a ring or two, but that wasn’t the case,

The longer he stared at his rumbling phone screen, the worse his anxiety began to grow. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The Bats had an auspicious way of knowing if him or anyone else didn’t keep up their patrol routine. Jason put off this thought many times, giving less of a fuck now as he rushed home.

“Where the hell is your phone??” Came his booming question once he enters the bedroom, noticeably breathing a bit heavy from his rushed pace.

Upon your failure to answer in your trembling state, cowering under your blankets, you hear his heavy boots quickly approach the side of the bed. Opening your teary eyes, you see two milky mask sockets staring you down, still clutching his own phone in hand.

Jason would’ve questioned you over how many times he’s had to call, over how many texts he sent. He could’ve, but he didn’t.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice changed from roughly arrogant to gentle softness while pulling off his mask, relieving you of that annoying heavy breathing behind the barrier.

Because everything fucking hurts, asshole.

If you were still angry at him, it would’ve been a shouting match all over again. No, all that’s left now is physical and mental pain.

Without another word, he rummages through both your drawers looking for something. Cursing when he couldn’t find it, he turns towards the closet, reaching up ahead on the top shelves until he found what he was looking for.

He leaves the room, making your sensitive mind wonder if he had the gall to up and leave again. Especially knowing the debilitating state you were in.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The faint chime of the microwave echoed from the kitchen.

You wondered wrong.

Jason returns, pulling the blanket back just enough to expose your torso. Pulling up your shirt just enough, he proceeds to apply a warm, heavenly weighted plush stuffy along your tummy.

A chorus of euphoria washes of your tense body, your unknowingly clenched jaw finally relaxing. You whimper out in temporary relief at this beautiful sensation, the application of warmth promising a slow, eventual comfort that would easy your agonizing pain.

“When did you start?” He asks, but you don’t answer. More like you can’t, really.

“Can’t talk, huh?” His forehead slowly settles along your temple, exhaling through his nose. Pure blooded guilt mixed with cold hard sympathy in his system, making his heart beat heavily as he fully considers your pain.

“God, don’t pull an idiot move babe,” he murmurs against your cheek, his forehead settling along your head.

“That’s my job. You were right about that.”

You were stubborn, but not that hurtful towards the man you love. Unless he did something where it was really necessary.

Jason remained by your side until you were comfortable enough to sit up, never minding having to warm up the heating pad one more time. He doesn’t say much after his last words as he brings you a calorie rich snack and some pain medication, sitting idly by while opening a water bottle for you.

He gets you to a hot shower after the painkillers slowly prove they’re kicking in.

Fresh clothes were piled on the bathroom counter for you after the seething hot shower, consisting of one of his shirts and a pair of your old shorts you didn’t care much for.

Dinner, or an incredibly early breakfast, was one of your favorite cup noodles. Quick, hot and easy, so you could take a strong sleep medication and rest this horrible night away.

Jason by now was unbearably silent, too silent. Occasionally, he asked if you were okay or if the cup was too hot to hold while you slurped your noodles. Red Hood became a quiet, doting dog, keeping behind you as you shuffle to bed, still dressed in his gear.

It was only after you were settled back into bed in your much better state did Jason decide to finally relax, comfortable enough to take off his gear.

You were left watching as he turned around, pulling off his taunt, black shirt he wore under all that armor nearly every night. A faint hiss pushes through his nose as the fabric tugs on his freshly bandaged gash, just shy from his right shoulder blade.

“I didn’t mean it,” you exhale, tears dribbling over the bridge of your nose. “You’re not stupid, Jason. I didn’t mean it.”

He still keeps quiet, his head slightly turning as he acknowledges the pain you were still in. He doesn’t blame you for your anger, it just makes him feel more stupid for being mad at you.

He kept getting hurt, and you always took care of him. Sometimes, he kept getting hurt too much. You couldn’t help getting more and more worried for his safety while he chooses to shrug off the pain.

Now here he stood, with a wounded shoulder, wounded pride and a trembling girl needing his support now more than ever.

“Wouldn’t blame you if you did, sweetheart.” Jason sighs after crawling into bed beside you, making sure you remained ownership of all thick blankets.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers, peering down at you with sympathetic eyes. “I’ll try to be more careful.”

Your heart nearly melts then and there, a lingering stress vanishing from your mind for now. That’s all you asked for out of the entire argument from earlier. You knew his job was dangerous, but all you asked out of him was to be more cautious about his surroundings, to not be as reckless.

You could only help bandage and kiss his wounds so much. You never minded, but him coming home with at least three harsh gashes from possibly infectious blades put a toll on your hormonal stability.

“That’s all I wanted,” you gently say in return, accompanied with a soft sniffle.

Jason smiles before scooting just a little closer, proceeding to hold you with his good arm. A content cloud of warmth invaded your area, keeping you feeling calm and satisfied as your tired eyes mindlessly trail along his silvery autopsy scar.

“You can forgive me later,” He muffles against your cheek, lacing your skin with various gentle kisses. “Get some sleep, Hood’s gotcha now.”

You close your eyes, hiding the dramatic roll that proceeded shortly after.

“Also,” he piques in his murmur, a hint of cheekiness invading his tone of voice. “Kinda know of other ways to help with the pain.”

“Jason.” You groan with a light grimace.

He smirks a bit, only growing from the faint crinkle in your eyes and refrained smile. Just the reaction he wanted.

—

Had to throw this in 🦀

[battydora]

note: sekido brainrot, i have no control

cw: nsfw , minors dni!! , no plot , gn reader (afab) , adult reader , switch sekido (mean dom → sub bottom) , switch reader (power bottom → mean dom) , kinda ooc , reader implied to be human , cursing , consensual , pet names (g.) , foreplay , kitchen sex , dry humping , early orgasm , degradation (g.) , slut shamming (g.) , barely proof read

edit: this was suppossed to be longer but i ran out of inspiration before s3 ended yikes. edit 2: PFF i posted this so quickly that i didn't realize the last line didn't make any sense LMFAO i changed it but that stays between us shhhh

wc: 1.1k

nsfw under the cut, minors dni

it's only a normal night of yours, you just finished doing all your chores for the day but yet you decided to prepare yourself a snack before going to bed. you're in the kitchen as you mixed all the ingredients together to make your sweet, humming a song to yourself to keep it entretaining. it's all calm and quiet around but a cold and frightening sensation runs through your entire body when you feel a huge hand pressing your back, you jump out of horror, mortified at the thought of someone breaking into your home and trying to attack you, you instinctively turn around and all your worries vanish in a heavy sigh when you notice it's just sekido.

"oh my fucking god, sekido, you scared the shit out of me. i didn't hear you arrive" you say, a laugh escaping your lips to relieve the scare the demon gave you.

it is a common thing for sekido to sneak into your home looking for you making absolutely no noise, his sneaking skills are impressive and startled you more than once. you notice how he doesn't say anything so you rise an eyebrow to him, slightly confused, his expression is shown to be enraged like it normally is, that furious frown and twisted grimace of his always showing his consistent state of rage. however, this time seems more intense and angrier. what can -now- be bothering him today? before you can ask him, the hand resting on your back pushes you forward to the counter in a slow yet strong movement, his hand still feeling heavy against your back, exerting force to avoid you from moving. before you can call his name in a questioning manner, his shaft presses roughly against your ass, all the dots connect when you feel his cock hard as ever against your body and realize, he is turned on.

sekido isn't verbal, he rarely tells you he is in the mood, you have to figure it out on your own or, if he is extremely needy, he just starts physical touch with you himself. the latter being the case today. he waits for a concrete answer before making any other move, as if he isn't already clear that he is horny as hell. you chuckle, allowing yourself to totally lay on the counter after pushing away the tools and the unfinished desert to rest your body comfortably. you look at sekido from the corner of your eye with a playful smile.

"my quiet puppy is needy, huh? alright, go on, let your frustrations out~" you hear him grunt at your comment, then his fingers wrap around your hips and start grinding against you, he presses his shaft roughly against you, as hard as he can getting that friction you both love so much.

this kind of foreplay always seems to arouse sekido since the more he continues, the more needy and noisy he gets. he continues his doing with enthusiasm, you feel his nails digging roughly into the skin of your clothed waist. he is desperate, you hear him grunt and struggle behind you.

"ngh~.. fuck.." you hear him groan, he stops for a second to get his kimono between his underwear and your clothed ass out of the way, increasing the closeness, cloth by cloth.

he continues to dry hump enthusiastic grunting and moaning under his breath, he sounds already so aroused and lost in the moment you wander why is he being louder than usual. but before you can even come to a conclusion, he releases a loud groan, hands gripping firmly your waist, you look at him in shock, it can't be... did he just...?

"did you just cum?" you ask in shock still, a small and puzzled smile forming on your lips and widen eyes. his fanged grimace remains and the enfuriated look on his eyes too, however he doesn't respond, his face just turns red as he recovers some breath, staring away from your astonished glare.

you decide to confirm your thought so you lift your torso from the kitchen table to look down at his underwear. you notice a stain soaking his clothing, your eyes widen in surprise and amusement even more.

"wow, you never came this fast, i thought this was only foreplay, you disgusting bitch" your attitude changes into something more shady and playful, your rude words disguising behind your sweet tone of voice.

"who are you calling a bitch?! i swear i'm going to-!"

"what? punish me?" you cut him off suddenly "i don't think someone like you can do that. look at you, already a mess, i didn't even have to do anything~"

he grunts enfuriated at your statements, each insult hitting the dirtiest part of his dark being. he pulls apart and covers his crotch with his clothes again, hiding himself from you as embarassment washed over him in an instant.

"daw, don't be shy, i already saw how fucking dirty you are for me, no need to hide it from me" you say, now walking to him, he steps back a little and holds onto his kimono when you start fighting to uncover his stained pants.

he is physically stronger than you, so you knew he gave in on purpose when you got to move the clothing covering his shaft and you're surprised to see another erection popping through his underwear again.

"oh my god, you're hard as a rock again. what's gotten into you today, sekido?" you grab his hips and lead him to the counter you were laying on seconds ago and push him to it facing you, pressing your bodies together and kissing him hungrily.

sekido holds back any complaints and kisses you back, hungry hands sliding through your body, landing on your ass, pressing you tighter against him for you to feel how hard he is again as he squeezed your butt desperately. your hands wander through his body and undo the belt holding his kimono together, to then get rid of it. his clothes pool around his feet the moment you pull apart. you look him in the eyes as he pants and recovers some breath, licking his upper lip, missing your taste.

you smirk at him, amused for how hungry he is for you right now, your hand lands directly on his cock as the other presses harshly on his chest, keeping him in place as you begin to jerk him off. he throws his head back, muffling all the noises he can, biting his lip so hard it could leave a bruise.

"come on, moan outloud like the deprived slut you are."

pinned post | masterlist | rules

thanks for reading!

[thedragonqueen1998]

Got struck with inspiration and imma make it a problem for you guys. XD

Okay, turned out a bit more.. graphic?(honestly can't tell if it is or not, so uh, if descriptions of pain and semi explicit birth bothers you, please be careful?) than i originally meant to, but the words once again flowed out and i do not control them, they control me. XD Put it behind a Read more, to prevent a huge text wall. ^^

So, what if: After the Temple of Solomon, Altaïr went about the usual, until he starts getting really hungry. It is intense and even if he satisfies it, it returns just a few hours later. He never had much money as Al Mualim and the Bureaus provided the food he would need, so eventually he starts stealing food to satisfy the hunger. Obviously due to all the eating, Altaïr gains weight. And alot of it. He can hide it easily, thanks to the assassin robes, but he worries. His stomach is getting strangely bloated and he starts having weird cramps. They feel like nothing he has ever experienced, but Al Mualim is still mad at him for failing to retrieve the Apple, so going to him and confessing that he is sick would spell disaster. He can ignore them.

That is until he starts noticing he is getting tired more easily and his hips are hurting. Then the cramps starts getting worse and happen within hours of each other. Altaïr decides that after the assassination of Majd Addin and freeing the fellow brother, when he leaves the city, he will find a medicine woman to find out what ails him. He can ignore the cramps and pain until then.

Malik has other plans unfortunately. "Altaïr, you don't look well. Rest here for the night, you can leave in the morning. .... That is an order Novice."

Altaïr cannot go against the order of a Dai, so his search for a healer will have to wait.

'Dammit Malik', Altaïr cannot help to think as the night falls and the cramps get closer together. He cannot fall asleep because of them and he is filled with restless energy. He fills the time with walking back and forth in the tiny courtyard until the pain gets too bad. Then he rests by the fountain, gripping the edge of it and rocks back and forth on his knees, hoping the pain stops.

It gets worse. He cannot stop the grunts and groans of pain escaping him. Malik of course wakes up and walks in to see Altaïr in this pitiful state. 'Hah, this should please him. The mighty Altaïr brought low by pain.' Altaïr thinks, but knows if he opens his mouth, he will start screaming.

Malik doesn't mock him though. "Altaïr! What is happening? Are you in pain?"

Altaïr can only nod, fighting down the screams in his throat. Malik takes that as his cue to start stripping Altaïr of his clothes, to try and see what ails him.

Once his torso is revealed, Malik freezes and stares at his belly. Altaïr finally gets a look at it after the pain started and the sight scares him. It is the size of a watermelon and it's mass hangs very low, much lower than it was when Altaïr looked at it two days before. He grunts in pain as another cramps hits and he freezes. That... was the feeling of something... sliding down inside him. He can see his stomach is even lower now.

"Malik, i think there's something inside me. And it's coming out." Altaïr grits out between his teeth.

That gets Malik out of his shock and he scrambles to get Altaïr out of his remaining clothes. When he is divested of the final article of clothing he can finally feel it. Some fluid running down his thighs, unnoticed until the cold night air chilled it.

Altaïr is struck with the great urge to push. He is embarrassed of what it would do, but he is starting to become afraid. Afraid like he has not been in years. And so he bears down, rocking faster while screaming between his teeth. He is aware of Malik saying encouragements, but they fade out in the rush of blood in Altaïr's ears.

He is not sure of how long it lasts, but by the end he feels the thing inside him sliding further down. He has to stop to breathe, gasping for air, but quickly he continues pushing. The pattern is repeated one, two, three times. Again and again. Until the object is stretching his rim. The burn is horrific and the pain unimaginable. He hears Malik yelling to keep pushing. Altaïr is looking up at the moon overhead, through the grate of the Bureau when he does the final, big push and feels the object slide out of him.

He shudders and simply collapses onto the floor from the relief. He gasps for breath, looking at the sky without seeing it. He hears Malik moving and takes a big breath before asking the question he does not really want answered: "What came out of me?"

Malik is silent for a minute before saying something that changes Altaïr's life forever:

"It's an egg."

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

Malik is confused. When he woke up to grunts of pain coming from the courtyard, he thought Altaïr might have hidden an injury or something of the like. So he brings medical supplies to aid the stupid Novice who clearly thought hiding injuries was a clever idea. What he finds instead is a clearly distressed Altaïr rocking back and forth on his knees, his hands gripping the fountain like his life depended on it. Maybe it did?

After scrambling to help him with his clothes, trying to spot any blood, he is shocked by the sight of Altaïr's stomach. The image of it somehow is reminiscent of the mares before they give birth to their foals and Malik shakes the thought out if his head. Altaïr is clearly a man and such notions are impossible.

They were, until Altaïr the overachiver proved nature itself wrong and not only gave birth, but to an egg! Wait, is it even birth if he laid the egg? Malik shakes his head. Defining exactly what happened is not as important as finding out how this could happen.

"Altaïr, you have not slept with anyone? ... or anything?" He asks not for the first time.

"No."

Is the simple answer he is given again. Altaïr is not even paying attention to Malik. Only staring at the egg in his hands. It is a beautiful golden colour, shimmering in the candle light as Altaïr gently turns it around, inspecting it. It is an almond shape and luckily for Altaïr at that. It is as wide as three large fists at the widest and Malik privatly despairs that if it was the rounder shape of a chicken egg, Altaïr might have perished in the effort to expel it from his body. It had taken close to an hour before Altaïr managed to push it out, so anything wider or bigger would have been the death of the man.

Malik can only stare as Altaïr holds the thing that could have easily killed him up to the light, letting out a little gasp as he does.

"Look." Altaïr says, clearly wanting to show Malik something about the egg. He gets closer and he sees it. Lit up from behind by the candle, one can see what is in the egg.

A human shape curled up in a fetal position, with what seems to be a tail framing it. Something is coming out of the head, curling around it. Horns? Malik is not sure. Looking at it makes him uneasy, but when he looks at Altaïr, all he can see is gentle wonder ..... and what can only be described as motherly love.

"Look at his heart, it's beating."

Malik looks again and yes, he can see the things heart beating. He should probably take the egg and destroy it, before it can hatch and let it's demonic content out into the world. But looking at Altaïr, he cannot do it to the man. The feelings on his face is love. It might be the love for a child, but it must be similiar to the love for a brother, for seeing it on Altaïr's face brings memories of Kadar to mind. Altaïr might be the reason why he lost his brother, but now that he is not blinded by sorrow, he can tell he would not wish it upon anyone. Not even his brothers killer.

Altaïr brings the egg back from the candle light and cradles it like a babe. Eyes misty and with a gently smile he says:

"I'm going to call you Desmond."

----------

So this is the end. Idk how long i went at writing it, but i like it. Pretty proud of myself. ^^ This is an idea i have had for a long time, in a similiar vein as the Virgin Birth!Desmond idea i commented on one of Teecupangels posts. But this one originally came from the Deathclaw idea someone had and just the idea that Altaïr came away from the temple with a little suprise, unkown to him, hit me in the head with a frying pan. XD

So, idk how long the Hunt for the Nine lasted, but if it isn't several weeks/months, we can just wave away Altaïr's laying of the egg only a few days/weeks later as a result of it being an egg. Most of the waiting time is in the incubation period anyway. So, Altaïr is ofc very afraid of what would happen if anyone finds out about the egg, especially Al Mualim. So he begs Malik to take care of it, despite it breaking his heart to leave the egg and not let it rest against his stomach in a warm nest of pillows and blankets. Malik agrees because the sight of Altaïr crying is too weird and hits too close to home for him to say no.

Eventually the whole thing with Al Mualim and the Apple happens and Altaïr can finally have the egg in Masyaf, in a warm and safe nest. Only Malik and Rauf knows about it and helps Altaïr hide it. Desmond hatches from it a few weeks later and he looks like a cross of a xenomorph and Diablo from Diablo 3. XD His tail is long and slender, with a wicked blade tip and his hands are clawed with razor sharp talons. He has 1 pair of horns that frames his head and they slightly curve along the shape if his head before having two bends(like a lightning bolt) that end in the horns sticking out and slightly curving upwards and outwards from behind his head. His body is otherwise very human shaped, though his legs is the typical double jointed type most fantasy creatures have. His eyes are an intense gold, the same as Altaïr, so questions of his parentage is not needed. His teeth is pretty normal, only having some pretty wicked canines. Colourwise he is mostly the skin colour he had before he died, but the monster parts are a deep red that goes into black the further from the human parts you get.

He needs to eat raw meat and though at first he was pretty disgusted by it, it quickly turned out to taste pretty good to him, so he loves to hunt fresh food for himself. Masyaf ends up discovering him when he looks to be 5 years old, but he is only like a few months old. Altaïr defends him and after that is very open about loving and caring for his son.

Altaïr trues to ask the Apple for the reason he carried Desmond's egg, but all he gets is "Unknown Interference with the Calculations. Cannot Calcute Origin of the Source." Which tells him even the Apple doesn't know why he laid an egg.

Not long after Desmond was discovered by Masyaf Altaïr starts getting the signs that he might carry another egg. This time it's Clay. XD

When Altaïr leaves to go fight the Templars and finds Maria, he brings the Terrible Duo with him, much to the delight of Masyaf. They love to cause chaos for some of the Assassins. XD

I have no idea on how Maria and Altaïr met, but with Desmond and Clay, Altaïr HAS to make sure that Maria can love his children as he does and the potentially future ones(Altaïr is betting on that there would be more eggs, knowing his luck).

Maria does decide that despite the apparent demonic children, she wants to marry Altaïr. Queu them returning to Masyaf, much to Maliks despair. The peace and quiet won't last long. He is right. When Maria becomes pregnant and has her son and Altaïr starts to show signs if yet another egg. *Sigh*

This one is Sef and strangely enough is almost fully human, looking like a mix between Altaïr and Maria. Only his small claws, teeth and eyes betray his non-human nature.

Maria loves them all equally and because Desmond is there Abbas gets no chance to ruin anything. ^^

Thinking of doing one with Ezio, but need to sit on it a bit more. Hope you enjoyed my insane ideas. XD

[depravitymoon]

Severity Scale - Yandere Fugo

Inspired by this post

[At this moment, I’m gonna answer Fugo with 1, 5, or 10. I will get better numbers when I compare him to the rest of the Bucci Gang (and La Squadra).]

Manipulative:

How manipulative he is?

1 being completely honest

10 everyone’s a puppet on a string

10/10 Fugo’s smart enough to manipulate people. That’s how he was able to live on the streets of Naples when he was kicked out.  As for his yandere antics, he wants to use his intellect to get what he wants before resorting to violence.

Perceptive:

How easy can the Yandere spot your attempt at manipulation.

1 is a sucker for you.

10 sees right through you.

10/10 Fugo loves you, but he will play mind games on you. He will study you, analyze, learn more about you and your psyche than you would ever know. Mind, mind games until you lose control.

Brutality :

How easily they kill others, the severity of the physical punishments/restraints, how willing they are to hurt you (and how severely) to teach you a lesson, etc. 

1 is wouldn’t hurt a fly, 

10 is will be brutal without hesitation.

Willing to hurt/kill others - 5/10

Willingness to hurt you - 5/10

Severity of punishment - 10/10

Fugo does have self-restraint, but when it’s gone, kneecaps will be busted.

Kidnapping capability :

If you tried to leave, how likely you’re forced to come right back?

1 is he will have a very hard time getting you back.

10 is he will find you within seconds.

5/10 - There are plenty of ways to escape Fugo but there are plenty of ways, to varying degrees, to return you back to him.

Emotional instability:

How much of an emotional roller coaster he is?

1 is pretty chill.

10 is unpredictable intense volatile emotional states.

10/10 - Duh.

Mental instability:

How well he blends into society? How off his rocker is he?

1 is no one suspects a thing. Yandere seems normal.

10 is everyone looking for a reason to call the police on him because the yandere is a walking red flag.

5/10 - It’s closer to 1 because I doubt Fugo has massive outbursts that often.

Restrictiveness:

How restrictive they are on your freedoms and privileges. 

1 being you’re essentially free, 10 being bound hand and foot in a dark closet all day type of thing. 

6 and over involves kidnapping.

5/10 - Closers to 1. Fugo wants control of you, because he wants you to do things for him and that means allowing you to roam the world. Keep in mind, that he does expect you to come home.

Stubbornness/Compromisability:

How willing they are to compromise versus how stubborn they are? 

1 being they will easily give up some of their wishes if it makes darling happy.

5 being you can negotiate a middle ground on some things. 

10 is just NO.

5/10. Fugo wants to be 10/10, but he actually wants a decent relationship with you. He knows he can get you to do his bidding easier if he negotiates with you.

[good-beanswrites]

Reposting my Shidou/dance drabble -- I realized I’d accidentally included literally everyone except Kotoko and I felt so bad 😭It’s all super minor edits to make it happen in T1 and give her like two lines of appearance, but I really wanted to lol

“I am not doing that.”

Shidou was always very polite, very calm in the face of any high-energy circumstances, whether it was a medical emergency or a raving party. The situation wasn’t quite either of those, but still he maintained his composure as the prisoners beckoned him forward. 

Yuno had cleared away some of the common room tables so she could teach Haruka a dance she’d seen online. His performance had attracted Muu, and their giggles had tempted Mahiru, whose enthusiasm had inspired Kotoko, whose intensity had found competition in Mikoto, whose teasing had recruited Fuuta, whose yelling had dragged in Kazui, and their spectacle had drawn in Shidou and Amane as an audience. 

“Aw, it’s easy,” Yuno was telling him, “just a few simple moves. I’m not asking you to pirouette or anything.”

Through his polite smile, he internally cursed Kazui for joining in; now he couldn’t use the excuse that he was too old for such nonsense.

Not that dancing itself was the issue. Shidou prided himself in being very good at the art: he knew several steps and moves, and had never been known to pinch his partner’s toes. He and his wife had received much praise for their dancing at their wedding. Before his work kept him out through the nights, she had talked him into a few midnight waltzes in their kitchen. He’d help his daughter twirl when she was feeling like a ballerina, and would sway with his son to the same music. 

But this amalgamation of hand gestures and hip swaying wasn’t quite the same to him.

He opened his mouth to decline, but the small stare in the corner gave him pause. Amane was watching the scene with feigned disinterest. She watched Shidou for his answer. All week he’d been encouraging her to involve herself with others more, telling her of all the benefits to her mental health. If he wanted even the slightest chance of her taking him seriously, he only had one choice. 

“I… will do my best.”

“Great!”

Before he had a moment to second guess the decision, Yuno grabbed his arms and yanked him into the circle. His eyes flashed around the group, quickly calculating the moves in order to follow along. Swing your arms this way, wag your finger that way, raise both hands, turn your body around, and so on. It was fairly repetitive. He had it down in no time. 

Or so he thought. Mikoto snickered at him.

“What?”

“You look stiffer than a board. You’re supposed to loosen up, man.”

“I am loose,” he said, his limbs perfectly rigid as he moved them with the music.

Mikoto did the little turn, putting a bunch of extra movement into it. It was uplifting to see him enjoying himself. Ever since he’d left the smoking group, Shidou had been worried about his state of mind. “Not even close. You’re doing even worse than Fuuta, somehow.”

“Hey!”

Mahiru circled her arms to the music. “I think he’s doing very well!”

Kotoko looked over. “You’ve got good breath control. It feels nice to work out like this, mm?”

“I suppose…”

Yuno was dancing circles around them -- literally and figuratively -- and she seemed to agree with Mikoto.

“Come on, you can relax here! Warden isn’t even around.” She swung her hips in fluid motions. “Let me see some rhythm!”

Shidou joined them for claps in sync with the beat, which he thought demonstrated his rhythm perfectly fine, but she kept prodding. 

Finally, he set his jaw. He wasn’t the type of man to get embarrassed. He could care less for appearances. Even if he was that type of person, he’d have reason to agree -- Kazui was completely showing him up. 

Though his movements were certainly ridiculous and clumsy compared to the others’, he tried to shift his shoulders and legs in similar motions. It earned him some celebration and some laughs from the others. He bent his knees, trying to put his whole body into the silly steps. 

He followed Yuno’s example, letting out a chuckle as he danced more ridiculously than he believed he ever had.

The song picked up, and Shidou turned triumphantly to where Amane sat in the corner. This would be a big step, showing her he was willing to put himself out there for the group. Maybe it would even convince her to come and join the dancers, now that she saw --

Her chair was empty. She had left.

[unohanabbygirl]

No no no no! Don’t go down the path of lies and secrets again, it’s what caused the Dance in the first place! Jeez you’re just packing in the drama to follow with the coming chapters aren’t you. This chapter was really intense, and I loved every word of it! Finally getting into some lucemond action while getting more into Luke’s mindset on certain things was interesting to say the least. And Aemond’s reaction to Luke kinda freaking out was absolutely sweet even if Luke didn’t fully appreciate it. I’m really concerned with the little big secret between Joff and Luke and hope Joff comes clean before the consequences come back to haunt them. I know you’re building up to it and I don’t want to sound impatient but are we getting close to where the memories will finally make a comeback? I only ask because I am frothing at the mouth for the angst filled chapters that follow. I live off that juicy shit. Also I am amazed by the depiction you gave Luke during his panic attack of how all his makeup and glamor were basically melting off him and turning him into a total ugly mess in a physical manifestation of how he views himself. That was peak imagery.  No tomatoes for you, just sweet lip glossed kisses. :)

Thank you babes!

I enjoyed writing Aemond comforting Luke for a multitude of reasons. One of which being to show that Luke is in good hands and while Aemond may be less experienced he surely knows when too far is too far even when tipsy. Comfort and the ability to actually pay close attention to your partners emotional state in the haze of the moment is such an important part of being with someone. It just goes to show that throughout his journey Luke will slowly learn what a healthy sexual dynamic is with Aemond helping to guide.

The secret between these two is going to cause more friction than I think anyone is ready for. It’s peel nack so much work this family has put in to come together and live in peace.

Though Luke is used to keeping secrets and lying his way through tough situations no matter how heavy they weigh in his shoulders, Joff is the complete opposite. Looks aside he’s truly just a kid who’s never withheld secrets from his siblings or parents a day in his life. Especially something as traumatic as what he saw was about to happen if he hadn’t found Luke in time. The poor boy not only has to deal with the weight of beating a man into unconsciousness but also knowing his brother has been sexually abused. It’s truly too much for such young shoulders to bear.

And yes! Since we’ve hit the halfway point in the story we’re closer now more than ever to the point of Luke remembering. The angst will be everything you’ve ever dreamed of because theres a big chance Luke will walk into his court date not just as Luke Rivers but Lucerys Velaryon as well.

Being made to spill his deepest secrets under oath to a court of dozens including your family and lover? Yea, that’s going to be painful.

Also, I was inspired by that scene in ‘The Orphan (2009)” where Esther’s advances were rejected by her foster father and so she flees to her room all while black eyeshadow and liner slowly seems to melt away with her tears. She spent time getting dolled up all for it to wash away in such a heavy moment of rejection and anger. Its such an eerie scene and I’m so happy you think my little rendition is worth praise.

I accept all kisses and return them 10x 🥰