#prowl finally gets free!

[somerandomcockroach]

Woodkid - “To Ashes and Blood” I have easy ways of relaxation

[thebutchprinxe]

saw a rocket last night ??

[nasa]

Have a Happy Halloween with NASA

Attention ghouls and goblins of the galaxy! The season for scares and frights is upon us, so we’ve rounded up a few Halloween resources to capture that festive feeling. Read on for craft ideas, free decoration downloads, a creepy soundtrack, and even costume ideas.

Overdid it at the pumpkin patch this year? Get some creative inspiration and some pumpkin-building tips from our Jet Propulsion Laboratory engineers, carve a James Webb Space Pumpkin, or paint a pumpkin with space and weather themed designs. And yes – you can make a NASA pumpkin, too.

Speaking of design, check out our terrifying Galaxy of Horrors posters: decorate your walls with a an illustration of a galactic graveyard or of dark energy prowling through the universe…

If costumes are more your thing, see how the astronauts aboard the International Space Station have dressed up over the years.

Finally, our Sinister Sounds of the Solar System playlist will give you just the right soundtrack for a haunted house or a party – or for scaring yourself all alone.

[vunblr]

Fangs and Spells

Pairing: Worgen!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Soft-dom!Bucky. Possessive!Bucky.

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Word Count: About 12k.

Notes: Ok, this one is... heated, I'm sorry beforehand (not).

Worgen=Werewolf. I’ve been playing World of Warcraft for 15 years, and even though life keeps me away, I’m always eager to return. That said, you don’t need to have played WoW to enjoy this story (though if you have, feel free to comment!).

The golden expanse of Westfall stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky, and the faint scent of rain hung in the air. Rolling grain fields, left untended for far too long, waved like restless ghosts in the wind. To the south of Moonbrook, jagged cliffs met the turbulent sea, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fury.

It wasn’t an inviting place, not anymore. The days of bountiful harvests and tight-knit farming communities were long gone, stolen by bandits, gnolls, and worse. The remaining folk clung stubbornly to their land, driven by defiance and desperation. And if you asked them, the worgen prowling over from Duskwood to raid the struggling riverside farms were on top of the offender's list.

Near the cliff's edge, a small clearing hosted a half-pitched tent flapping uselessly in the rising wind. A warrior with a scowl etched deep into his face knelt beside it, hammering a stake into the rocky ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Standing a few feet away, a mage held the sagging canvas taut, glaring daggers at him.

"You had one job, Buck," she bit out, exasperated as the wind tugged at her robes.

“The idiot deserved it, and you know it,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

She let out a humorless laugh, sharp enough to cut through the whistling wind. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean you had to snap in the middle of the inn. For Light’s sake, Bucky, all you had to do was keep your temper in check. We were finally about to get a decent night’s sleep. But no, you had to let your claws show.”

His lip curled, and hint of a snarl escaped his throat before he caught himself. “The bastard invited you to ‘polish his greatsword’ while groping himself under the table. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing would’ve been perfect. I could’ve frozen his excuse of a dick and left him weeping into his ale. Then we could’ve stayed, and maybe even conned him into buying an overpriced healing potion for his bruised ego since there isn’t a decent merchant in this God-forgotten place. But no, you just had to make it personal.”

Bucky let out a huff, standing to stretch his shoulders. The motion pulled his vest taut, and her eyes flicked down for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to the tent. He mumbled under his breath, “He had it coming.”

She didn’t let him off the hook. “Please. You just took the opportunity to vent because Steve sent us to kill nagas on the beach. And you hate the coast because when you shift, the sand gets into your fur and other places you don’t-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, waving her off with a sharp motion and an uncharacteristic hint of color in his cheeks. “Maybe that had something to do with it. But still, the bastard deserved it.”

She smirked, pulling the canvas tighter over the flimsy frame of the tent. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

He huffed again, crossing his arms, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon.

“Just... remember where we are,” she advised softly, "This isn’t Dalaran or some other cultivated place. These farmers deal with the Duskwood worgens six days a week lately. They don’t believe -or care- that there’s a way for your kind to regain their humanity."

He stiffened slightly at her words. She regretted saying them the moment they left her mouth, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze entirely.

"We got lucky you only half-shifted, and the owner just asked us to leave instead of raising some kind of alarm."

“Don’t fool yourself,” he muttered. “He didn’t call on us because he knows we’re here to deal with the nagas.”

“Maybe,” she allowed with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the point.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against the canvas.

Her voice softened slightly as she bent to secure the last corner of the tent, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Look, I appreciate what you did in some way, but you usually let me handle this kind of thing. The last couple of days, though… you’ve been broodier and grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something. This isn’t just about the beach, is it?”

He grunted, keeping his eyes on the stakes. “You’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve just forgotten my charming personality since it’s been a month since our last quest together.”

She quirked an unimpressed brow, crossing her arms as the rain dripped from the edge of her hood. “Thanks to your charming personality, almost no one in the guild wants to team up with you unless we’re raiding. And its why Steve pairs me with you, because apparently, I can ‘handle’ you.”

Bucky squinted up at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she continued, folding her arms tighter as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So believe me when I say you’re ‘Buckier’ than usual right now.”

He straightened, looming over her slightly, and let out a quiet huff. “Think what you want,” he muttered, brushing past her to retrieve his bedroll from their supplies.

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated how much her observation rattled him. Worse, he hated how easily she could unravel the mask he wore, the one that kept everyone else at arm’s length. But he couldn’t explain why, not without revealing more than he was willing to.

He should’ve seen it coming. Every Gilnean, given their worgen blood, knew what it felt like, that slow-burning tension building incrementally until it exploded into something primal and impossible to ignore. His rut came like clockwork every year, and when it did, he disappeared from the radar, holed up in some remote spot until it passed. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

This time, though, Steve had insisted the naga situation couldn’t wait. The bounty was too big, the stakes too high, and Bucky, hadn’t argued. He’d thought he had more time before his hormones kicked in. He’d been so wrong. And now? Sharing a flimsy tent with her and her sharp tongue? It was like throwing oil on a fire.

He glanced at her, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She was bent over the supplies, muttering under her breath as she organized their gear. The damp fabric of her robes clung to her frame, outlining curves he’d tried not to notice since… well, he couldn’t remember when it started.

He’d been drawn to her for longer than he cared to admit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. Maybe it was her sharp wit, the way she never backed down from him, or the way she smiled at him when he wasn’t ready for it. Maybe it was just the way she treated him, like he was more than just a worgen with a bad attitude.

Whatever it was, it didn’t help now. Not when every glance, every stray brush of her hand, set his nerves alight and his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.

“You’re quiet,” she said, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Nothing to say,” he muttered, unrolling his bedroll and laying it out on the ground.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with skepticism clear in her tone. She didn’t press further, though, for which he was grateful. Instead, she settled onto her own bedroll.

The rain drummed steadily against the canvas above them, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the heat in his veins to subside.

He just had to get through this. The nagas wouldn’t take more than a day or two to deal with, and then he could disappear before she noticed anything was off.

He hoped.

------

Maybe pitching the tent near the treeline by the rift hadn’t been their most brilliant idea. Sure, on paper, it seemed logical, far enough from the coast to avoid naga and murloc patrols, gnoll bands, Defias stragglers, and those damn coyotes. But the coastline's wind and chill seeped through their tent's flimsy fabric, turning the night into a teeth-chattering endurance test.

It wasn’t a problem for him. His worgen nature granted him a resilience she could only envy, but she was clearly freezing. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every now and then, no matter how she tried to stifle it.

Both of them were awake, though for different reasons.

“Bucky,” she whispered, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain.

He didn’t answer, hoping she’d think he was asleep and leave him alone. She knew how hard rest was for him, how much effort it took to him to conceal just a couple of hours of sleep.

“Bucky,” she tried again, her voice sharper this time. “I know you’re awake.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes in the dark. “You can’t see a thing. How do you know?”

“Pfft. Because if you were asleep, you’d be snoring.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a cute little pig,” she added, cutting him off with an audible smirk.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he did. How would he know? He didn’t exactly stick around for morning conversations after his usual flings, and no one had ever mentioned it before.

“Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m cold,” she admitted.

Oh, he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t pack for a quest in Northrend,” she continued, her tone edged with frustration, “and I’m freezing my ass off. Do your thing.”

He stiffened, dread settling low in his stomach. “It’s not that cold,” he dismissed, turning onto his side and hoping she’d drop it.

“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, shifting to face him. “You know it is, and we could’ve been warm and cozy in the tavern right now if not for your macho display earlier.”

His lips twitched into a snarl before he smoothed his expression. “I’m not shifting.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, her breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was different, we were really in Northrend,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened a little. “I’m freezing, Buck. I wouldn’t be asking you if I did not. Please.”

Her tone made him pause, wavering his internal resistance. He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t fair. Her scent was already messing with his focus enough, and now she wanted to press against him for warmth?

“Fine,” he ground out.

She hummed in approval as he shifted with practiced ease. He took off his vest and his bones cracked and muscles rippled, becoming larger, thick dark fur covered his body and deathly claws grew on his hands. He didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she scooted closer, curling her smaller frame into his side.

“See? Not so bad,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest while she poked at his snout. “Warm and cozy. You’re practically a luxury fur rug.”

His lips twitched, a reluctant smile threatening to break through the scowl he’d carefully crafted. “Glad I could be of service,” he muttered dryly.

She snorted softly, the sound more endearing than he’d ever admit. “Don’t act like you’re suffering. You’re just grumpy because I called you out.”

“I’m grumpy because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you,” he retorted, but the words lacked venom.

She didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she might’ve finally fallen asleep. But then, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, thanks, Buck.”

He didn’t answer, tightening his jaw as he tried not to focus on how perfectly she fit against him. Her scent -warm and familiar- filled his senses, sending a deep, instinctual thrum through his veins.

This was going to be a long night.

------

The night dragged on, and though she moved only a couple of times, it was enough to drive him mad. Normally, her restless shifting wouldn’t have been an issue. But now, with his traitorous body on high alert and her nestled against him, it was sheer torment.

At some point, she settled in just the wrong -or perhaps right- position. Her back molded to his chest, her softer form impossibly close. His body reacted before his brain could catch up, and before he knew it, his arm was slung possessively around her waist.

And she didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her unconscious search for warmth becoming his greatest torture. When her hips shifted slightly, her rear brushing against his growing arousal, Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His instincts roared, the part of him tied to his worgen blood demanding he take what was so temptingly close. His hand twitched against her waist, his claws threatening to pierce the fabric of her robe as he fought the overwhelming urge to act. He bit down on the snarl building in his throat, forcing himself to remain still.

He closed his eyes, his breath was shallow and uneven as the storm outside raged on. This wasn’t him. No matter what his instincts tried to tell him, he wasn't an animal. She trusted him, and saw him as more than the beast he sometimes feared he was. He wouldn’t betray that, no matter how much his body protested.

When the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, doing his best not to disturb her sleep. He draped his mantle over her before slipping out of the tent into the cold rain.

-----

When she woke, the patter of rain against the canvas was the first thing she noticed. Then the weight of his cloak over her shoulders. She blinked, groggy, and glanced around the empty tent.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped herself tighter in the mantle. It smelled like him, a mix of forest, leather, and something she could only describe as uniquely Bucky. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and began rummaging through their supplies. He might be gruff and impossible, but he always made sure she was taken care of, and she had to admit she liked it. It didn’t take much to guess where he’d gone, either scouting or standing under a tree somewhere, brooding and keeping watch.

Meanwhile, Bucky stood at the edge of the clearing, soaked to the bone. He barely noticed the cold, his mind was too preoccupied with wrestling his instincts back under control. His claws flexed against the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he exhaled slowly. Her scent still clung to his body, haunting and maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension to leave his body.

“She’s your teammate, not your mate,” he muttered under his breath, the words as much a reminder as a warning.

But no amount of logic could shake the truth he’d been denying for far too long. She wasn’t just a teammate, not to him. And the more time he spent near her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.

------

Four times.

Four times Bucky had to jerk off and relieve himself before he felt remotely human, or as human as someone like him could feel. By the time he returned to the tent, the rain had lessened, though his damp hair clung to his forehead and his shirtless torso glistened from the early morning mist.

Inside, she was sitting cross-legged with her bag open beside her. She barely looked up when he ducked inside, muttering a gruff, “Morning.”

Her eyes flickered to him, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Morning. Glad you shifted back; otherwise, the wet dog smell would cling to everything.” She tossed him a magic-infused bun with a wink.

He caught it with ease, biting into it harder than necessary. The faint hum of magic in the pastry soothed his body slightly, though his mind was still frazzled.

She, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her gaze fixed on his face. The early hour and her half-awake state didn’t help, and her eyes briefly betrayed her, wandering down the lines of his scarred torso. She caught herself quickly, clearing her throat as she focused on his stubbled jaw instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

He almost choked on the bite of the bun. “Why?”

She arched a brow. “Well, the shadows under your eyes and your miserable face give off a certain vibe.”

He scowled, finishing the bun in two quick bites. “If only someone had stayed on her side of the tent instead of tossing around all night,” he muttered.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Next time, I’ll freeze myself in place so you can have a peaceful night.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small green vial. “Here.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, glaring at the potion like it had personally offended him. “Those taste like shit.”

“And you look like shit, so…” she replied, thrusting the vial toward him.

With a dramatic groan, he snatched it from her hand, muttering something under his breath about bossy mages.

She smirked, leaning back on her hands as she watched him grimace through the first sip. “You’re welcome,” she said sweetly.

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. He downed the rest of the potion in one go, resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Better?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“No,” he grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But the faint twitch of his lips gave him away.

-----

“Tell me again why I have to carry the bag with naga thumbs strapped to my waist?” she huffed, launching a frostbolt straight into the face of an approaching murloc.

“Because I don’t want them to rot and start reeking like shit,” Bucky replied, his tone edged with impatience. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, sending a naga’s head flying in a clean arc. “Just keep them cold and keep moving.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting the grisly sack at her hip as she prepared another spell. “Yes, master. As you wish, master,” she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated deference.

“Shut it,” he snapped without looking back, slicing through another naga like it was nothing.

“What’s the matter, master?” she continued, undeterred. “Does your fluffy tummy hurt? Want me to rub it?”

His grip on his sword tightened. No. He wanted her to rub something else, and that was precisely the problem.

He growled low in his throat, shaking off the thought as he tore through another wave of enemies with grim focus. Every word out of her mouth made it harder to concentrate, and the sooner they finished this quest, the better.

For his sanity.

“Focus,” he barked, sending another naga crumpling to the ground.

She smirked but didn’t push further, summoning a frost nova to freeze the remaining enemies in place. “I am focused,” she replied with a smug tone. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath -probably a curse- and powered forward, determined to reach the end of this hellish mission before she drove him completely mad.

-----

"I'm not carrying the head to Stormwind. I'm letting you know right now," she called over her shoulder, crouched in front of the naga commander's treasure chest.

Bucky, still looming near the mangled remains of the commander, huffed. "I figured. It's too heavy for you anyway."

With a sharp crack of bones and the sickening squelch of shifting tendons, he reverted to his human form, standing shorter and more composed but no less intimidating. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the familiar but always slightly uncomfortable sensation of transformation.

"Anything useful in there?" he asked, wiping blood and ichor off his blade with a rag.

“Actually, yes,” she replied, holding up two gleaming rings. “Looks like someone left us a caster and a melee ring. Lucky day.”

She tossed the melee ring to him without warning, and he caught it effortlessly with one hand, inspecting the intricate etching along the band.

“Aww, look,” she teased, holding up the caster ring. “They match.”

Bucky squinted at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “Great. Now we can get married and settle down in Kharanos.”

She snorted, slipping the caster ring onto her finger. “You’d last a week before murdering the drunken neighbors.”

He chuckled under his breath, sliding the melee ring onto his own finger. “More like a day. But, we’ll have enough ale even for our grandkids”

The banter lingered between them for a comfortable moment, despite the carnage surrounding them.

“Alright,” she stood and dusted off her hands. “Treasure’s looted, commander’s dead. Let’s get back to Stormwind before this starts to smell real bad, and you get extra cranky because of the sand in your ass.” He gave her a pointed look but didn’t talk back.

“Let’s see,” she muttered, already pulling a small portable mailbox from her enchanted bag to let Steve know that they had completed the quest. She tossed it to the ground, and with a flick of her fingers, it unfolded and hummed to life.

Bucky watched her intently, still coiled with tension from the fight. Every part of him was attuned to her movements, even when he didn’t want them to be.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the glowing letter that appeared before her. “Well, that’s just perfect,” she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“What now?” he growled.

She glanced at him, tossing the letter into the air where it dissolved into sparkling motes of light. “We’ve got another job. Steve wants us to go to Duskwood. The guild bank is low on silver ore, and considering it’s nearby...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl of irritation. “Of course he does.”

“Hey, at least Duskwood has a proper inn,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “And the people there know the difference between Alliance worgen and the monsters lurking in the woods.”

Bucky wasn’t amused. He should’ve been relieved that Duskwood would be less hostile than Westfall, but all he could think about was the proximity, the enclosed spaces, and how hard it was already becoming to keep his instincts in check.

“I’ll go,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You can handle turning in the quest in Stormwind. Those fingers are going to start rotting if we don’t deliver them soon.”

She straightened, quirking an unimpressed brow. “Forgive me, illustrious master, but our guildmaster specifically requested both of us.”

“I don’t need backup for something as simple as mining,” he shot back, irritated. “I can handle a few spiders and ghouls on my own. Just go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her as she stood her ground. “What’s with you? You’ve been extra bossy today, and for the record, I don’t take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” he growled, though it sounded like one. “It’s common sense. I can get the ore faster on my own, and you won’t have to-”

“What? Slow you down?” she interrupted, sharper now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He objected tiredly.

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

He stiffened, looking away. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. How could he explain that every moment they spent together was a battle of willpower? That he could barely breathe the same air without the primal urge to claim her clawing at his insides?

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to being the lone wolf -pun very much intended- but we’re a team in this one, and we’re going to Duskwood together. Got it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, dropping his gaze to the ground. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but the look in her eyes stopped him, he know it very well. She wasn’t bending.

“Fine,” he ground out, strained. “But don’t slow me down.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they packed up their supplies and prepared for the journey, Bucky tried to focus on the task ahead, but the tension between them only grew thicker. It was going to be a long trip, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it with his sanity intact.

----

The woods were eerily alive tonight, the undergrowth teeming with movement that set her nerves on edge. It was impossible to traverse the area without skirmishing at nearly every turn, and the battered remnants of giant spider corpses littered the path behind them.

“Isn’t it good I came with you?” she asked, flicking a small flame spell at a particularly persistent arthropod. Its charred remains crumpled into ash as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

Bucky grunted in response, non-concomitantly, as he crouched by a silver deposit. He picked effortlessly loosening the ore, and the metal glowed faintly in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.” She smirked, but her amusement faded quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on her staff, and she scanned the treeline, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Uh, Buck…”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to look up. “You finally get tired of spiders?”

“Not exactly.”

Something in her voice made him pause. Straightening, he turned to follow her gaze, and his stomach dropped. Emerging from the shadows was a pack of worgens, their eyes were gleaming with a feral hunger that set his instincts ablaze.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his body shifting almost instinctively. Bones cracked, muscles bulged, and fur erupted as he transformed into his worgen form.

The pack hesitated. He was larger than any of them, and his presence was enough to make a few step back, flattening their ears in uncertainty. But they didn’t retreat. They circled, growling low in their throats, a guttural sound that echoed in the damp night air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Both sides stood frozen, staring at each other down as if weighing the odds. Low growls and deep, guttural sounds passed between Bucky and the pack, an exchange she couldn’t interpret but that felt loaded with meaning.

She took a cautious step back, and her staff glowed faintly in her hand, though she doubted it would be much use if this went south. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s kind of rude, you know. Everyone knows what’s happening but me.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his focus was locked on the pack. He deepened his growl, and the sound reverberated through his chest as his claws flexed at his sides. Whatever language they were speaking, it wasn’t friendly.

She tightened her grip on her staff. “If this is one of those ‘dominance’ things, can we skip to the part where they back down?”

Bucky shot her a brief glance. His glowing eyes were so intense that they sent a shiver through her body. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice barely human.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, with both sarcasm and genuine unease.

The standoff continued, and the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. She could feel it in the air, the raw, primal energy radiating from the pack and Bucky himself. She hated to admit it, but even now, amid danger, she couldn’t help but notice the sheer power and command he exuded.

“Any time you want to scare them off would be great,” she quipped nervously, keeping her eyes on the pack.

“I’m working on it,” he rumbled sharply.

The tension in the clearing was suffocating, the pack of worgens circled closer, their growls vibrating threatening in the air. Before she could react, Bucky’s paw encircled her wrist, and he pulled her roughly in front of him.

“W-what?” she gasped, wide-eyed as she looked up at him.

His snout was so close, and his voice was a low, urgent rumble when he asked. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

“Alright,” he muttered. Without another word, he leaned down and licked a slow, deliberate stripe along her neck, never breaking his gaze from the pack.

“Buc-” she started, her voice faltering.

“Moan,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?”

“Just do it. Like you mean it,” he commanded, tightening his grip slightly on her wrist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathy sound, tilting her head slightly, while her voice trembled with a mix of nerves and compliance.

The pack hesitated, as they exchanged uneasy glances. Bucky growled low and deep, as his free hand moved to the nape of her neck, guiding her downward on her knees with surprising gentleness for the intensity of the moment.

She frowned. “What are you-”

“Rut season,” he growled under his breath, lips close to her ear. “They want to fuck you, and I’m showing them you’re mine.”

Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught as his words sank into her brain. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half in disbelief.

“So, unless you want some fun with those boys,” he continued, dangerously calm, “you’re going to play along.”

Before she could respond, he pushed her neck lower, bending her slightly as he positioned himself behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and the weight of his presence almost overwhelmed her as he pressed closer.

His hand brushed the hem of her robe, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs. Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. She wanted to throw him a dirty joke to decompress, protest, or say something, but the gravity of the situation kept her rooted in place.

Bucky hunched over her, his chest brushing against her back as he growled at the pack, sounding primal and territorial, and -oh light- he started to pound and grind against her. His movements were deliberate, and calculated, mimicking the act with enough realism to leave no doubt in the pack’s minds.

“They don’t see much detail from here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he panted near her ear. “But it would be wise to show them some… engagement. If you know what I mean.”

The low growls of the pack echoed through the clearing, but they faded into the background as she cast her scruples aside, letting out soft moans and whimpers every time his hips connected with her rear. It was humiliating, sure, but the situation demanded it. Every sound she made seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Bucky was a storm of barely restrained chaos. Each time their bodies connected, the friction sent a jolt through his body, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the painful erection straining against his pants. He bit back a growl, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that she could feel every inch of his leaking cock pressing against her.

The pack’s growls began to falter, their aggression giving way to hesitation. But Bucky’s protective instincts burned hotter. The violent intent in their stares toward his mage had his blood boiling. He wanted to tear them, to rip them apart for daring to covet what wasn’t theirs.

And yet, another fire was burning in him, one far more dangerous.

The charade, though necessary, was pushing him to his limit. Her body pressed against his, her soft sounds filling the air, and the scent of her arousal cutting through the damp forest air, it was killing him.

Oh, he noticed.

He noticed how her movements became less stiff, how her breaths quickened with something more than nerves, and how the sounds escaping her lips grew more authentic and less forced.

And she noticed too.

The undeniable hardness grinding and slapping against her clothed pussy was impossible to ignore, and she hated the way her body reacted. Her cheeks burned with the realization of the slickness beginning to gather between her thighs. And worse, she knew he could smell it.

Bucky flexed his claws at her waist, tightening his grip momentarily as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s it,” he murmured darkly but oddly reassuring. “Just a little longer. They’re starting to get the message.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily as her scent overwhelmed him. When he opened them again, they were sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. His voice was strained, low, and almost trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly.

“Listen,” he panted, each word carrying the weight of his struggle. “These bastards are going to retreat, and when they do… I need you to cast Frost Nova. On me. And run.”

“What?” she gasped, twisting slightly to look back at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

His grip on her waist tightened, claws grazing her robes but not piercing. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak through the haze clouding his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t trust myself right now. All I can think about is ripping off that damn underwear and stop this charade.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and her cheeks heated anew.

“But Bucky-” she began, unsure.

“By the Light, woman,” he growled, cutting her off, “Can’t you, just once, do what I say without questioning me?”

The desperation in his voice was unmistakable now, and she froze, torn between the rising fear of what he might do and the unwavering trust she’d always had in him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind raced.

“Alright,” she said finally, not sounding very convinced.

His response was a guttural snarl, but the tension in his body eased, just slightly. “I’ll be fine,” he bit out, though the way his claws flexed told her he was barely holding himself together.

The pack lingered, their yellowed eyes glinted with hesitation as Bucky’s sharp, murderous gaze bore into them. Every roll of his hips against her, every growl rumbling in his chest, was a clear message: she was his, and they had no claim here.

He let out a guttural snarl of finality, slowing his movements until he stopped, and she played along, meowling and whimpering in reaction to his fake release. He leaned forward, almost covering her body entirely with his, growling more menacing than ever before.

Eventually, the tension broke as the pack, deterred by his dominance, slunk back into the shadows of the woods.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly moved backward. “Do it,” he commanded, edged with desperation.

For a moment, she froze. She could feel his body trembling against hers, not just from exertion but from the monumental effort it took for him to hold himself back. His claws dug slightly into her sides, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of how close he was to losing control.

“Now,” he barked, sharp and low.

Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself not to look back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she channeled her magic, releasing a Frost Nova that erupted in a ring of ice around him. The spell worked instantly, freezing his limbs in place and rooting him to the forest floor.

Her chest ached as she heard the muffled sound of his growl, laced with frustration, and something else. She forced herself to run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground as she headed toward the road.

Behind her, the crackling sound of ice straining against immense strength echoed faintly. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

-----

Maybe telling her to run hadn’t been the most clever idea his clouded mind could come up with. Because now, all he could think about was the chase… and the prize.

Her scent clung to his fur, sweet and maddening, filling his lungs and clouding what little rationality he had left. Each breath only made it worse, feeding the primal hunger gnawing at his control. His aching cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, every pulse a painful reminder of how badly he needed her.

Something in him snapped.

The ice encasing his limbs cracked audibly before shattering altogether, shards scattering across the forest floor. With a guttural roar, Bucky surged forward, his massive form blurring as he gave in to the chase.

His mind, already teetering on the edge, gave itself over to instinct. Each pounding stride brought him closer to her, his muscles coiling and releasing with terrifying precision. He could smell her panic mixed with something else, something intoxicating. It made his mouth water, his claws flex, and his cock twitch with unrelenting need.

She ran as fast as she could, her robes fluttered as she darted between trees and over roots. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, the world narrowing to a single focus: her. The thrill of the hunt consumed him, but it wasn’t just the chase, it was the promise of catching her, of claiming what every fiber of his body screamed belonged to him.

----

Her steps began to falter as she reached the road, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, trying to recover. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing. She was a mage, for Light’s sake, spellcasting was her forte, not sprinting through a forest or other physical strain.

That’s what she had Bucky for.

Bucky, who would roll his eyes and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman whenever she whined about being too tired to walk.

Bucky, who would scout ahead for the easiest path even though he could tear through any terrain in his worgen form without a second thought.

Bucky, who hunted and butchered their meals with efficiency, ensuring they ate more than stale bread and questionable stew on their travels.

Bucky, who wanted to fuck her.

Her cheeks burned as that particular thought. Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, because she had. Maybe too often for her own good. The idea of him and his hands on her, his low, gravelly voice saying her name in that way that sent a shiver down her spine.

But not like this.

Not the furry kind of fuck.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep moving toward the town. Each step felt like it was taking her further from the chaotic heat of the encounter in the woods, but her mind couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her: possessive, dangerous, hungry.

And if she was being honest with herself, a small part of her didn’t entirely mind that look.

She almost tripped and cursed, adjusting her robes and glaring down at their impractical hem. Maybe it was time to ditch the flowing fabric and invest in some pants like a sensible person. To hell with Khadgar and his fashionable mage aesthetic. She let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair as she walked. All she needed was to reach the inn, find a stiff drink, and put this insanity behind her.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to make it.

The big, bad, and sexually frustrated wolf had been prowling alongside her, concealed by the thicket, his predatory instincts zeroed in on every step she took. She’d barely made it four more paces down the stone road before her vision blurred with sudden movement.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned.

Her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, and in front of her was Bucky. Human, barely. His chest heaved, his shirt torn and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He was panting, feral, utterly undone.

Her breath hitched as her eyes raked over him, and before she could stop herself, her thighs pressed together to ease the tingling ache his mere presence provoked.

“H-hey, Buck,” she croaked, her voice trembling under the weight of his stare. “I guess the nova wasn’t to your liking?”

His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her lips before sliding back to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that would stop me?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating with barely contained hunger.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Well according to you, it was supposed to give me a head start.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his hands braced on either side of her head against the tree. “I guess I subconsciously knew damn well I’d catch you. Since, you know, your stamina sucks”

Her cheeks flushed hot, and her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep her composure. “Yeah, well... there was the possibility that maybe the spell cooled you off.”

“Cool off?” He leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple, dropping his voice into a growl. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane, running around smelling like... that.”

“Like what?” she whispered, even as she already knew the answer.

“Like you want me to lose control,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

Her traitorous body shivered at his words.

“Would that… be that bad?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His entire body went rigid, curling his hands into fists against the tree bark. A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating between them like a warning. Or a promise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out against her skin.

She tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw as if he were fighting an invisible battle within himself. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she couldn’t tell if the heat pooling in her belly was from fear, desire, or both.

“Don’t,” he rasped, strained. “Don’t tempt me like that.”

Her lips parted, letting go a soft exhale as she felt the weight of his words. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “And if I did?”

He snarled, closing the faint distance separating them. His forehead dropped to hers, and his ragged breathing mixed with hers. “Then I’ll show you just how dangerous I can be.”

The words sent a jolt of adrenaline and something far darker coursing through her veins. She swallowed thickly, and her heart hammered against her ribs as she whispered, “Maybe I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, his pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue around a sea of black. His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath.

“I don’t know if I can stop,” he admitted.

“Then don’t,” she replied steady, despite the quiver in her knees.

Bucky didn’t move for a heartbeat, his body trembled as he fought his instincts. The moment stretched, before something inside him finally snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, as though trying to express everything he couldn’t say. She gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively tangling in the ragged fabric of his shirt and his long locks, pulling him closer despite the warning alarms blaring in her mind.

His hands moved to her waist, rough and possessive, as though afraid she might slip away. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, raw and unrestrained, but it wasn’t enough, not for him.

He broke away, panting heavily, roaming his gaze over her heated face. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled, low and thick with need.

Her lips tingled, swollen from the force of his kiss. Her fingers trailed up to touch them as her mind spun. “Well Buck, I’m not sure I care,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and his body pressed her back against the tree. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone more animal than man.

She met his gaze, and her stubborn streak flared. “I said, I don’t care, Bucky.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and his hands moved to cup her face with surprising gentleness despite the storm raging inside him. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmured, brushing her lips with unexpected tenderness.

Her body ached at the contrast, of the softness of his touch against the raw hunger in his voice. She shivered again, and he didn’t miss it.

With a low growl in his throat, Bucky pressed one of his thick thighs between her legs, dragging against the sensitive spot that was already aching for attention. She gasped sharply, and her hands flew to grip his shoulders for balance, but before she could say anything, his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

His lips were on her a heartbeat later, hot and unrelenting as they trailed along her skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and nips that made her shudder. The scrape of his teeth sent sparks down her spine, and when he growled again, the sound vibrated against her throat and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips.

The sound seemed to set something off in him. His thigh pressed harder against her, sending jolts of pleasure as her body instinctively rolled against him. She felt the heat pooling low in her belly, and her mind was a blur of sensation and need.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a trembling voice.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, in a rough whisper that made her knees weak.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. It was messy, desperate, and so consuming that she felt like she was drowning in him, in his scent, in his heat, in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to grab the front of her robe and tear it apart with a single, feral motion.

“Hey!” she protested, instinctively trying to cover herself.

“You didn’t like it anyway,” he retorted, dark amusement lacing his tone as he tossed the tattered fabric aside.

Her protest died on her lips when his hand moved lower, hooking into her underwear. “And I don’t like these,” he added, low and rough as he shredded the delicate material without hesitation.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she stood bare before him, and his predatory gaze raked over intently, his expression darkening further when he finally saw the evidence of what he’d only smelled before, the glistening slick between her thighs.

“So damn wet,” he growled. Without preamble, two fingers slipped between her folds, sliding through the slickness before finding her clit.

Her body jerked at the contact, a whine escaping her lips as his touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her body. He didn’t hold back, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with calculated precision, his rough fingertips adding just the right amount of friction to make her toes curl.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful admiration as he watched her reactions. She was utterly pliant beneath his touch, resting her head back against the tree, lips parted while gasping softly. “So perfect like this.”

She could barely form a response as he kept up his relentless ministrations. Her hands shot out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as her legs trembled under the onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck, Bucky.” she panted, her voice shaky and desperate, as his fingers continued their slow, devastating circles over her clit and her hips moved involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the friction he was so generously giving her.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, laced with a possessive edge. He leaned in, and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he finally buried his fingers inside her. “You feel how good this is? How good you’re gonna feel when I’m finally inside you?”

Her knees buckled at the promise in his voice, and his grip tightened, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

His lips trailed along the sensitive column of her neck, and his teeth grazed her skin before he bit down gently.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders and biceps as his fingers worked her relentlessly, curling just right to hit the spot that made her vision blur. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Feel so good, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, as his thumb kept circling her clit with maddening precision. “So damn wet for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her hips moved in tandem with his hand, grinding against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust and curl of his fingers, every swirl of his thumb sent waves of pleasure through her body and she was about to snap.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned again, and her head lolled back as he continued to mark her neck. She was completely at his mercy, and her body trembled, as the heat built low in her stomach, threatening to unravel her completely.

“Chase it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful when you let go.” His words were her undoing. Her body arched, and a sharp cry left her lips as she shattered, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave.

Bucky didn’t ease up, and his fingers continued their relentless pace, driving her deeper into a haze of pleasure. She squirmed, pushing at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, pinning her against the tree.

“Bucky,” she whined, her voice breathless and trembling, “I… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, with authority. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. The sensation was overwhelming, but it teetered dangerously close to pure bliss. His thumb continued its torment on her clit, and her thighs shook as another wave of heat coiled low in her belly.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want you ready to take all of me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I will make sure you know it.”

“Oh, cocky, aren’t we?” she tried to quip, but her voice shook as she clung to the last shred of control she had left.

His deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, “Yeah,” he retorted, his lips curling into a feral grin. “Cocky, indeed.”

Her response was lost in a breathless moan as he curved his fingers again, finding that perfect spot and sending sparks shooting through her body. She couldn’t think or do anything but cling to him as he worked her over with ruthless precision.

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into hers, feral and wild, “Come on,” he murmured, low and commanding. “Give me another one. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Her body betrayed her completely, tightening around his fingers as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge once more. His relentless dominance was intoxicating, and she hated how much she wanted to fall apart for him all over again.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whined, “or I swear I’ll put bubblegum on your tail the first chance I get.”

Her body trembled violently as her climax tore through her, making her see stars. It was the most intense release she’d ever felt, and it left her gasping for air, every muscle in her body turning into jelly.

Bucky chuckled, clearly satisfied with the way she fell apart under his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, glistening with her slick, and without warning, brought them to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, in a rough growl.

Her dazed eyes blinked up at him, but she obeyed, parting her lips. He pressed his fingers onto her tongue, making her taste herself. Before she could process it further, he leaned and crashed his mouth against hers.

He licked at her lips, her tongue, and his own fingers still in her mouth, mingling their breaths in a way that felt so filthy and erotic that it made her head spin.

His other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss, his feral nature showing in the raw hunger with which he devoured her.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Bucky’s blue gaze glowed with pride and desire, and his mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, thick with arousal. “Every part of you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he fumbled with his belt and nearly tore his pants apart to free his throbbing, leaking cock. A guttural groan escaped from his throat as the cool air hit his heated length.

His glowing eyes locked on hers, filled with feral hunger. “And now, magic bun,” he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk… and then some more.”

With one hand, he gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg to spread her wide. The other wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, guiding it between her slick folds. He groaned low and deep as the head of his cock pressed against her clit, grinding teasingly against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She gasped, and her head fell back against the tree as the tantalizing friction sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. “Bucky…” she breathed half a plea, half a warning.

“Patience.” he growled. Slowly, torturously, he began to push forward, as the thick head of his cock stretched her inch by inch.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her breath hitched as he split her open, his size forcing her body to adjust to the overwhelming intrusion. He paused briefly, giving her time to catch up, though his trembling muscles betrayed how much restraint it was costing him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against the tree as he sank deeper. “So tight, so perfect.” He lifted her other leg from behind her knee and pushed again.

She whimpered, rolling her hips instinctively to meet him, drawing a shuddering growl from his chest. Her body stretched and molded around him, every nerve alight with pleasure and the intoxicating mix of pain and anticipation. Her breath came in short, heated bursts as her lips sought out his stubbled jaw, lingering before she nipped at his skin. It was soft but enough to provoke, enough to draw a growl from deep within his chest.

"Keep going, big guy," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a mix of daring and need.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Once I start, there’s no stopping.”

Her hands slid up his chest, grazing the muscles beneath his shirt with her nails. “Good,” she breathed, “because I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a guttural sound, Bucky thrust forward, stretching her inch by maddening inch. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a broken growl as he sank deeper, claiming her completely. Her nails dug into his skin as her body arched against him, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

He rolled his hips again, slow but deliberate. “You feel that? That’s all me, and I’m not stopping until I’ve emptied my balls inside you, magic bun."

The vulgar promise sent a new wave of heat through her body. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her body clenched around him in response.

“You talk a big game,” she managed to tease, the faintest smirk curling her lips despite the haze of pleasure overwhelming her.

Bucky chuckled darkly, “Oh, you’ll see just how big.” he growled, snapping his hips forward sharply, drawing a gasping cry from her.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover, since his movements became relentless in a punishing rhythm that was intoxicating. Every thrust pushed her higher, her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as his words and actions blurred her ability to think of anything but him.

"That’s it," he murmured against her ear, his voice ragged. "Take me. Take every damn inch."

His pace grew rougher, more determined as if his life depended on claiming her body completely. Each thrust drove her harder against the tree, and every delicious drag of him against her sensitive walls made her body sing.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips brushed against her ear. “Like you were made for me. Do you feel that? Feel how perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Y-yeah, I feel it,” she stammered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he continued, his voice dripping with feral hunger. “Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nails scraped down his back, leaving marks that only spurred him on. “Bucky! oh, fuck… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter. “You’ll take it, every inch, every load, until you’re dripping with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She could only whimper in response, her head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Her body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure building to a breaking point. “Bucky, I’m gonna- oh!”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he commanded, “Squeeze me, magic bun. Milk my fucking cock!” he growled, his voice rough and ragged as he felt her clenching around him. He could feel his balls tightening dangerously, and with a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time.

“Fuck! Just. Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum filling her up while he panted against her neck.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her legs shook as he held her up against the tree, keeping her pinned as he emptied himself into her.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

She gave a breathless laugh, still shaky. “There goes your endurance”

He smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to her lips. “Don’t think we’re done, though,” he murmured, sliding down his hands to cup her ass. “Not until I’m sure you’ll feel me with every step tomorrow.”

"Bucky-" she started, but he pulled out his still-hard cock and gently set her down, immediately latching his mouth onto one of her neglected breasts. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin as he sucked and nipped, leaving her gasping.

“Oh, how many times did I imagine milking these,” he murmured against her flesh, his voice thick with want.

She quirked a brow at him, managing to ask between pants and squeals when he got rough. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he growled, squeezing both breasts with his large hands to make his point. “Every fucking time we shared a tent and you pressed them against me in your sleep. You have no idea what you did to me.”

She let out a sharp gasp, caught somewhere between indignation and arousal. “You creep! Ah!”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple. “I’m not a saint, but believe me when I tell you, another man wouldn’t have held back. They’d have taken advantage.”

Her fingers wove into his long, dark locks, an unexpectedly tender gesture despite the heated moment. She tilted his face up slightly, meeting his gaze. “I know. But you’re not just ‘another man.’ You’re my partner, and since our first quest, I’ve always known I was safe with you. Grumpiness and brooding aside... you’re the best.”

His movements stilled for a moment, then he pressed his forehead against her chest, brushing his lips in the swell of her breast as he exhaled deeply. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he admitted, raw and almost vulnerable.

She smiled, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You don’t make it easy, but you’re worth it, Barnes.”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, still exploring her body with his hands, tracing every curve.

“Not the time for the monthly self-loathing spiral.” she chastised. Her hand slid down his chest, fingers dancing over the hard ridges of his abs before continuing lower. When her fingers encircled his shaft -or at least tried to-she began to pump him slowly.

His breath hitched, sharp, and audible, and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t,” he ground out, his voice rough and almost desperate.

She knit her brows, confused. “Why not?”

He kept his grip firm, clenching his jaw as he averted his gaze, with a flushed face. “Now’s not a good time,” he muttered. “Maybe... maybe when I’m not rutting.”

Her head tilted slightly, studying him. “What’s the difference?”

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers with a mix of restraint and frustration. “If I get too... invested,” he admitted, almost growling, “I’m going to shift.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted to say something, but she hesitated, caught between curiosity and concern.

“It’s not just about me losing control,” he added, almost hesitant. “If I shift mid-act, it’s... it’s a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “Bucky, you’ve never hurt me,” she said gently. “And I don’t believe you ever would.”

He leaned into her touch for a moment, exhaling heavily.

“I won’t let you get away with what you want as always. Not with this.”

“But-”

“Shut it,” he growled, cutting her off as he turned her around and manhandled her to the ground on her hands and knees, his discarded cloak softening her landing. His voice dropped into a commanding snarl, rough and dangerous. “Now I’m going to keep getting what I want, and you will take it.” He spread her thighs open with his knee. “You’re only going to open that pretty mouth of yours to moan or cry out my name.”

“Bossy now, aren’t w-” she began, sassy, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. His hand came down on her ass with a loud, stinging smack, making her gasp.

“You just had to insist on being a brat and coming with me,” he hissed, his lips close to her ear, his voice dripping with frustration and unbridled heat. “And then I had to fake fucking you in front of a bunch of horny bastards.”

His hand kneaded the spot he had smacked, “Now, magic bun, you’re going to pay for every second of that torture.” His hands gripped her hips possessively, dragging her back against him, pressing his leaking cock into her ass.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he muttered darkly, sliding a hand down between her legs “You’ve been soaking since that little show.” He pressed his fingers against her pussy. “This? This is all mine.” He growled and pressed the thick head of his cock against her entrance, already slick from his cum and her fresh wave of arousal. Without hesitation, he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. She cried out, arching her back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

He groaned, “So perfect, magic bun. Taking me so well.”

Her fingers dug into the cloak beneath her, and her breathing ragged as her body tried to accommodate his size. “Fuck...” she gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure.

He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as his lips found her shoulder. He nipped at her skin, sharp enough to leave marks, each bite sending a jolt of electricity through her already overstimulated body.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her arms trembling as she tried to hold herself up under the force of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop saying my name,” he demanded roughly against her ear. His hips snapped forward harder, and his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every hard thrust.

She whimpered, dropping her head forward as her body surrendered completely to him. He growled approvingly, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder before licking the sting away.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he drove into her relentlessly. “Say it.”

“I- I’m yours,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Yes, so damn mine,” His hand slid up her spine, possessively fisting her hair and pulling her head back. The exposed line of her throat and shoulders was too tempting to resist, and he sank his teeth into her skin again, marking her.

The wet slap of his balls against her clit grew louder, mingling with her breathless cries and his guttural groans, creating a symphony of pure, unrestrained need that echoed through the forest.

“Buck, y-you’re so deep,” she choked out, clawing her fingers at his discarded cloak for stability.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. “Deeper still, magic bun,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw determination. “I want to feel your womb kissing the head of my cock.”

He withdrew almost entirely, leaving her desperate and trembling, only to thrust back in with a force that had her crying out. His pace quickened, each stroke harder and more deliberate than the last, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

Her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation driving him wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his free hand gripping her hip so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises. “Made for me, made for this”

She moaned, arching her body, her knees threatening to give out under the relentless pleasure, as her body rocked with every thrust. He let go of her hair and reached down to play with her swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Take it,” he growled, dark and commanding. “You’re gonna carry me,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t have room for anything else. My scent, my seed, on you, in you, everywhere.”

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” she whimpered, her thighs quivering as she clenched around him, her body responding instinctively to his filthy promises.

She meowled, and her body responded with another involuntary squeeze around his cock. He groaned, the pressure almost undoing him. “That’s it,” he hissed while his pace grew erratic. “Gonna breed you, leave you dripping for everyone to see. “You want it, don’t you?” he rasped, circling her clit faster. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“I-I want it,” she gasped, the words barely leaving her lips before another sharp thrust sent her spiraling.

He groaned as her walls pulsed around him, and he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck!,” he growled, as his cock twitched inside her. “You’re gonna take it all. Every last drop. No one else gets to have you, just me.”

The orgasm hit him like a storm, spilling thick ropes of cum into her, the heat of his load making her whimper. He thrust a few more times, grinding deep as if determined to leave no part of her untouched.

His movements slowed, then stilled, and he remained buried inside her for a moment, his chest rising and falling against her back until he finally withdrew, groaning softly at the loss of her warmth. He pulled her down gently onto his discarded cloak, spooning behind her. The feral aggression that had consumed him moments before seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calmer, more satisfied version of himself.

“You alright?” he murmured, softer now as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His hands smoothed over her sides, no longer gripping bruisingly but exploring her curves with a reverence that made her sigh.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still breathless. “But you are totally carrying me tomorrow in a piggyback. I don’t feel my legs.”

His lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile. “That was the idea, your limbs around me, where they belong.”

She rolled her eyes and snuggled her back closer to the warmth of his broad chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you didn’t escape,” he retorted, nipping playfully at her ear.

“Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment,” she quipped, tracing the lines of his forearm where it rested around her waist. “Or maybe I just enjoy being with the guy who acts like a beast but is actually pretty damn sweet when he’s not trying to prove a point.”

He huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sweet, huh? Pretty sure I wasn’t ‘sweet’ a few minutes ago.”

“No, you were something else entirely,” she teased, turning to meet his gaze with a sly smile. “But don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands slid up her side to cup her breast, his rough palm was gentler now as he thumbed over her sensitive nipple. He sighed, utterly sated yet still unwilling to let her go.

“We’ll need the tent,” he murmured and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her skin. “We’re not making it to the inn.”

She groaned, grimacing at the thought of wrestling with the cursed contraption in her current state. “Ugh, the tent. Can’t we just sleep out here and hope nothing eats us?”

Bucky chuckled with a low and indulgent sound. As if he’d read her mind, he nipped her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her mouth. “You’re going to lay there looking pretty, and I’m going to set it up,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

She turned her head to shoot him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you’re all chivalrous now?”

He smirked, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Don’t push your luck, I’m trying to be nice here.” he muttered, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders as if she couldn’t do it herself. “Since I plan on fucking you again -and maybe a few more times after that- I’d rather you didn’t catch a cold. Also…” His gaze lingered pointedly on her chest. “I don’t want some random traveler getting an eyeful of your bouncing tits.”

She quirked a brow. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care about modesty a few minutes ago.”

He crouched down beside her, tugging the edges of the cloak higher over her chest as he gave her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, that was different. I was the one enjoying the view. No one else gets to.”

Her smile widened as she brushed her hand over his stubbled jaw. “Possessive much?”

He just stared at her, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if to remind her exactly who she belonged to. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against her cheek, and he nuzzled her affectionately. “Be good for once and stay put. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Oh, I’ll stay put,” she said with a mischievous lilt, shamelessly traveling her gaze down his naked body. “Enjoying the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He liked her looking at him like that, and she knew it. He made no effort to hide the way his muscles flexed as he moved, taking every chance to show off while setting up the tent.

“Really taking your time there, huh, big guy?” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” he shot back, giving her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “If you’re going to stare, I might as well make it worth your while.”

She laughed as she propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just admiring your… big dedication to the task.”

He shook his head as he secured the last of the tent’s poles. “Come on,” he invited, holding a hand out to her. “Tent’s ready. Let’s see if its sturdy enough for my big dedication.” His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Always so humble, Buck.” she observed, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up.

“Just calling it like it is,” he shot back, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly touched. “And judging by your staring, I’d say you agree.”

She opened her mouth to quip but then paused, frowning. “Um, Buck… by any chance did you bring the sack with the silver or…?”

His confident smirk faltered as his brows knit together. “Of course I-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing toward the forest, and his expression shifted from cocky to sheepish. “I was a little preoccupied,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve will love this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “You think I care about what Steve thinks right now?”

She arched a brow, dropping her gaze lower. “Well, considering you’re standing here without a stitch of clothing and no silver in sight… maybe not.”

His lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as he took her hand, placing it boldly against his hard cock. “You tell me, magic bun. Does this look like it cares about Steve, silver, or his damn surprise quests?”

Her cheeks heated as her fingers instinctively curled around him. She swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t” she managed,

He growled, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “Now, get in that tent before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Her lips quirked, but she wisely said nothing, turning toward the tent with a sway in her hips that she knew he wouldn’t miss. Behind her, he groaned, with both exasperation and lust.

“Keep that up, magic bun, and we won’t make it inside at all.”

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[spidehpig]

my fever induced thoughts about bird is horny & ovulating x mean bastard ghost

mostly just rambling, didn’t check for coherency or grammar. i’ve been plagued by these thoughts and just had to get them out sorry.

ghost x reader

mean bastard ghost with a bird who’s been so needy and clingy all day long. he’s not really sure what’s got her panting and gagging for his cock like a whore, must be a cycle thing. either way he doesn’t mind, in fact he finds it amusing. he’s so used to just indulging himself, parting her thighs with his meaty hands and swiping his tongue along her folds as her little squeals and protests fall on deaf ears.

it’s not everyday that he’s the one to wake up to her trying to take what she needs from him. her pretty moans shaking away the last tendrils of sleep from him as the wet cotton of her panties rut against his thigh and her other hand gropes at his cock straining against his boxers. he has half a mind to push the greedy brat onto her belly and just mount her right there. but this unashamed desperation radiating from his bird is a rarity he’ll indulge in.

he feels a little sick satisfaction when her sweet moans break off into a frustrated little cries as his fist clamps around her waist, halting the desperate little grind of her hips. ignores her begging and pleading as he slips from the sheets. leaves her aching and wanting as she trails into the shower after him with a cute little pout.

keeps his face stoic as he pinches and flicks at her swollen nipples, his other hand pawing at her ass. working her up into a frenzy again, makes sure she can feel his heavy cock throb against her thigh as he cups her dripping cunt. thick fingers bullying their way between her lips under the guise of washing her clean. likes the way she shivers and bucks against him when his knuckle brushes across her clit. he quickly twists the rusty shower handle when she reaches for his cock again and huffs out a raspy laugh when she squawks at him as the shower water turns to ice. doesn’t look back as he steps out and tosses a towel at her.

maybe he shouldn’t punish his little bird’s confidence and needy demands. it’s not every day he wakes up to her wet and willing, so eager to milk his cock. but he has the time and patience today. maybe it’s boredom from such a long leave or maybe he’s just a bastard he thinks as he pulls her onto his lap later as he watches the game. fingers sneaking under the fabric of her tank top to pinch and twist at her nipples until she’s squirming in his lap searching for the friction of his hard cock. waits until she’s panting and whining again before pushing her off his lap a grunting at her to go fix dinner. gives his cock a couple of lazy tugs as she shoots him a dirty look and stumbles into the kitchen on unsteady legs.

later ducks his head under the kitchen doorframe to corner her against the counter to paw and grope at her pretty hips, feels the soft skin of her inner thighs are still slick. pulls back the second she sighs and arches back against him. he ignores the way she glares at him across the table as he shovels the dinner she made him into his mouth. and just to be a prick, finishes his game after dinner while she angrily slams the dirty dishes around in the kitchen.

waits until she’s finished until he prowls off into the bedroom and lights a cigarette as he settles against the pillows. sprawled out across the center of the bed, he finally shoves the waistband of his sweats under his balls to let his heavy cock spring free. precum already leaking onto his thigh as he barks at his bird to come take care of this.

can’t help but smirk as she hesitates in the doorway. unsure if this is just another one of his cruel tricks after he had spent all day teasing her. fists his cock and tells her to come take what she needs. almost barks out a laugh as her eyes widen and she quickly wiggles out of her panties and scrambles up onto the bed. licks his lips when he gets a glimpse of her already glistening cunt as she crawls up over his hulking body. has half a mind to stub his smoke out and sit her over his hungry mouth. instead he takes another drag as her thighs stretch wide on either side of his thick waist to hump her slick cunt along the underside of his cock.

he makes no move to touch her as she ruts and humps against his cock, the bed already creaking with her frantic movements. only pausing to grit his teeth as the tip of his cock catches on her warm hole as she rocks backwards again. lights up another smoke as she leans back onto her haunches to bury two fingers into her cunt when it becomes apparent he won’t be doing anything to help satiate her needs. pupils blown as he watches her sloppy cunt swallow her little fingers. not at all enough to prep her for his cock.

she doesn’t seem to care as she lurches forward and her nails dig into the fat of his chest as she rises up onto her knees, reaching back as she pathetically tries to line his leaking cock up with her cunt. her little grunts of frustration are music to his ears as she struggles to catch the tip on her hole again. movements faltering and sputtering a little when he blows smoke in her face. sweat glistening along her brow when she glares at him and finally manages to sink down a few inches.

his eyes roll back with how tight she is, half expects her to stop and beg him to finger her open. instead she grunts in pain and tries to bounce and wiggle her way down onto his prick. barely any leverage with the way she’s already risen so far up onto her knees just to straddle his thick waist, the cushioned mattress does nothing to ease her struggle. and fuck, watching her buck and bounce just to bully his fat cock into her greedy cunt is tearing at the remains of his control.

it’s not until her walls finally relax and she sinks down onto his cock with a yowl that he finally acknowledges her. cooing and taunting her for being such a needy slag, drooling over his cock all day long. watches the way a sob wracks through her body as her hands grip at the fat of his stomach trying to get some leverage to push herself up on his cock. barely manages to rise up a few inches before she’s letting out a frustrated sob and instead just grinds back and forth on his lap with his cock buried in her cunt, so pathetic.

she yelps when he slaps her tit and growls at her to ride him proper. sniveling after his cock all day long and she can’t even take it right? he decides he’ll let her whine and mewl and beg him to just take her as she grinds on top him. she can’t even take what she needs. maybe when she finally collapses from exhaustion will he flip her over and breed her pretty cunt. seems like he’s the only one that can give her what she needs after all.

[yourtamaki]

o, come, be buried / a second time within these arms

zoro x f!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: hurt/comfort, sex as a form of comfort, fingering, cuddlefucking, creampie, scent kink, oral (f!receiving), cum play, cum eating, violent imagery, bit of aftercare

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there is a storm building inside you.

zoro can see it raging even as you keep your face turned from him. the room dark save for the moonlight that streams in through the open window, just bright enough to spot your outline curled up in bed, covers tucked up under your chin. lines of tension keep your back rigid and shoulders hunched, your breathing shaky and slow as you tell him to leave.

you’re vicious gales and crashing waves wrapped into one, devastating and beautiful.

“you don’t want to be around me right now,” you say, words muffled by your pillow.

“don’t tell me what i want,” he doesn't try to bite back the anger that laces itself through his tone. zoro has never censored himself from you before and he wasn't about to start now.

ire thrums hot in his veins, burning and boiling away beneath his skin. he has always given you every part of himself, heart served in his open, blood-stained palms, for better and most certainly for worse.

the thought of you holding yourself back from him, that there’s a part of you that he’s being denied, sets his teeth on edge. he'd been searching for you all day, prowling around the ship like a caged animal until finally found his way to where his search should have began, the tiny storage room that had become your shared quarters.

“you pissed at me?” he asks.

“no,” you say.

“want me to kill anyone?”

“no.”

it grates on him that there’s no enemy for you to sic him on, no bones to crack, no blood to spill. your pain deserves retribution and he is the blade that would carry it out, if only you would wield him, "then i'm staying."

"zoro, please. just go."

“who do you think you’re protecting by hiding yourself away?” he steps in closer, right to the edge of the bed but makes no move to touch you, “cause it’s not me and it sure as fuck isn’t you.”

you throw a dagger of a glare his way, so sharp it could make a man bleed before he even knew he’d been cut. he doesn’t care. a small price to pay for your gaze.

zoro is too loyal of a beast to flinch away the first time you flash your fangs at him.

you hold his gaze for a moment longer before turning back around to face the wall once more. in your silence, he resolves himself to sitting on the floor by your bedside until he can be of some fucking use to you. zoro would lick crumbs of affection out of the palm of your hand. if the closest you'll let him be to you right now is knelt on the ground, keeping vigil, then he'll take it. he's crouched halfway down when he hears you call for him.

“baby, get in.”

how you have enough sweetness in you to spare him a kind word even when you have none for yourself, he will never understand. zoro takes a moment to pull his swords free from where they hang on his hip, propping them up against the wall where they’ll still be in arm's reach before he pulls back the covers and settles in next to you.

you're cold to the touch despite having been buried under the blanket, dressed only in a simple shirt and underwear and zoro is quick to throw an arm around you and pull you in by your waist until you’re pressed flush against him, his other arm slipping under your head for you to rest on. he buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathes you in and for a moment he can almost smell the scent of your hurt lingering on your skin, thick and bitter as blood.

there’s an urge, ever present and never sated, to dig his teeth into the side of your neck and bite down until iron coats his tongue, to taste you, know you, in a way no one else ever has or will. it’s an urge he can only hold at bay by pressing open mouth kisses to your throat and feeling your pulse flutter against his tongue.

you slowly start to melt in his arms, the tension you wore like ill-fitting armour stripping off you piece by piece with every kiss until you’re free from its hold, warm and light.

“better?” he asks, slipping his hand under your shirt and pressing his palm flat against your stomach just to feel it rise and fall, follows the rhythm of it and matches his breaths to yours. the reassurance that you're whole and safe is a cool balm to his worries.

“a little bit,” you whisper.

“but you need more,” it’s hardly a question that needs to be answered, not with the way you’ve started to shift in his hold.

“you don’t have to—”

“i do. i want to.”

and there’s more he could say, he knows there is. pretty poetry to comfort you, sweet nothings to soothe you. but what use would empty words be to you? they can’t hold you, can’t keep you warm, can’t wipe your tears.

zoro can. he will. for you, he’d do anything and everything. all and more.

the room settles into silence, his offer hanging in open air and ripe for your taking. you don't reach out for it, not yet, but zoro doesn't mind. he can wait.

“impatience is a swordsman’s undoing,” his master had once told him a lifetime ago when zoro’s palms were still soft enough to bleed and grief was a companion so new it still stepped on his heels as it dogged his footsteps.

of the two of you, patience has always been your strong suit rather than his. it was your patience that brought you together, when you stepped into his life with a hand outstretched and he met you the same way he met all good things that tried to enter his life, with a snarl and blood stained teeth.

zoro kept you at a careful distance with all the wariness of a distrustful stray, always watching but never getting close. it was you who slowly bridged the gap, gracing him with kindness and company he'd done nothing to earn but gorged himself on anyway.

it was only because of your patience that he knows the bliss of falling asleep and waking up with the warm weight of you in his arms. the least he could do is pay you back with what you've always freely given him. so zoro holds you close and waits.

and waits.

and smiles, sharp and proud, when you take his hand that still rests on your stomach and lower it until he’s cupping you between your legs, the heat of you searing his palm even through your panties.

your hips jerk when zoro doesn’t move, a soft whine catching in your throat when his other arm circles around your chest and holds you still against him, “zoro.”

“i've got you,” he says with a kiss behind your ear, toying with the waistband of your panties before sliding his hand inside.

he slides his middle finger down your slit, dipping his fingertips into the slick heat of your cunt to wet them before drifting back up to where you need him most. there’s no rush as zoro rubs neat, tight circles against your clit, slow and firm even as you buck and try to grind down on him.

he wants you to feel every moment of this, to savour it, to drown in pleasure so deep you never want to come up for air.

another kiss to your throat, one on your jaw and you finally melt back into him, legs spreading just enough for zoro reach lower and start to ease a thick finger inside you.

“there you go, baby, that’s it,” he says, “let me in.”

you swallow him down to his knuckle, trembling in his arms when zoro slips in a second finger and crooks them to rub against the spot that never fails to pull the prettiest sounds out of you.

he shifts, trying to move lower between your legs without pulling his fingers out so he can taste where you’re wet and aching for him but you stop him by threading your fingers through his short strands, keeping him in place.

“what?” he asks, “you don’t want my mouth?”

“no, not— not right now. just stay close. keep holding me. please,” he hates how small you sound.

“i’m here. i’m right here. fucking kills me knowing you were in here hurting by yourself."

"i'm sorry.”

"don’t,” the anger he felt when you tried to send him away rears up once more. an apology is the last thing he wants to hear from you right now, “just find me next time. doesn't matter when or where. you find me. got it?"

“yeah, i got it,” you start rocking back into him, soft ass grinding against his clothed cock, “zoro.”

“i know. i know you want it, baby, but i gotta stretch you out first. can’t fit when you’re this fucking tight.”

your answer is lost in a moan as he eases in a third finger, thumb pressing against your clit. the angle isn’t kind on his wrist but zoro keeps his pace steady, spreading and curling his fingers until you’re soaked and soft and ready for him. he pulls his hand out of your panties, kissing your nape when you whine from the loss before he licks the taste of you off his fingers.

“i'm not going anywhere,” he says, "keep your eyes on me."

zoro waits until you turn in his arms and he has your gaze before he gets out of bed and undresses, leaving his clothes in a pile next to his blades. you sit up to tug your panties down and kick them off, your shirt following soon after.

you’re bare and soft and holding out a hand for him to take. zoro laces his fingers through yours and joins you once more, stripped of his swords, his clothes, and his restraint.

you don't crash into each other so much as you collide into a bruise of a kiss. it aches more than it soothes but the shared pain of it only has him pressing closer to you, your soft tits pressed to his chest, legs intertwined and weeping cock trapped between your stomachs.

he reaches up to cup your cheeks and breaks the kiss to pull back just far enough to take in the sight of you, all swollen lips and glassy eyes. it takes a heartbeat longer than it should for you to focus on him. the storm is still raging inside you but zoro refuses to lose you to it. he stands firm against the buffeting winds that threaten to rip you away from him and swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones.

“still with me?” he asks.

you turn into his touch and kiss the rough centre of his palm, “‘m here.”

"then take what you need, baby."

you slide a hand between your bodies, taking his cock into your hand and guiding his tip to your entrance. even with all the prep, it takes some time to sink inside you, time you spend peppering kisses across his face. he bears them as he bears the scars that litter his body. with pride. with honour.

zoro bottoms out with a low groan, grabbing you under your knee and hooking your leg over his hip to slip in that much deeper. every sense is flooded with you. the wet heat of you wrapped around his cock, the heady scent of your sweat and need swimming around his head, soft skin beneath his palms.

entangled and weaved together like this, heart and breath as one, zoro is drawn into the eye of your storm.

your pleasure is his, your pain his own.

still, clear waters surround you both as he waits for you to adjust. with how closely he watches you, he knows you’re ready even before you wrap both arms around him and start to roll your hips.

he keeps one hand under your knee, the other sliding down your back to rest on your ass, and uses his grip on you to pull you into a slow, dirty grind.

“oh fuck,” you moan as the two of you find your rhythm together. zoro barely pulls out, keeping himself buried to the hilt inside you. you jerk back as he rolls his hips just enough to grind your clit up against his pelvis, his firm hold on you the only thing keeping you pinned in place.

“easy now. don’t run from me.”

time slows to a crawl, every moment yawning and stretching into the next, slow and sweet as honey. you tip forward, closing what little space there still was between you to pull him into a kiss that has all the intimacy of a hard-fought spar, of learning to move together, of missteps and growing pains, of getting the wind knocked out of him only to be pulled right back on his feet.

you’re close, all worked up and sensitive from his fingers, cunt fluttering and clenching down around him as you near your high. zoro chases your pleasure down, a starving mutt set loose upon a feast. he uses the little leverage he has to wrestle you on to your back and fuck into you with short, heavy thrusts.

“c'mon, baby, that's it,” he says, bent low to brush his lips against your ear, “let go.”

he reaches down between you, thumb pressing firm against your swollen clit and you’re gone, swept out to sea as your high crashes down over you in waves. zoro hardly feels his own orgasm rip through him, too caught up in watching you shake apart and be remade in his arms.

all is still as you pant and come back into yourself. your hand slips back into his and squeezes once. he’s not sure whether you’re trying to reassure yourself that he’s still here or that you are but he squeezes back all the same.

“can i eat you out now?”

and for the first time since he stepped into the room, a smile breaks over your face, bright as the dawn sun breaking through an overcast sky. you pull out of his hold, his soft cock sliding out, and settle on your back, legs falling open, “go for it.”

zoro eases himself down between your legs, throwing your thighs over his shoulders, never letting your hand slip free from his. he takes stock of your fresh fucked cunt, clit puffy and hole clenching around nothing, dripping with him. the scent of you, of the two of you, is thickest here, heavy in his nose, and zoro breathes you in with deep, greedy lungfuls, spent cock twitching against his thigh.

he dives in, catching what leaks out of you on his tongue before pulling back and dribbling the mess of cum and spit all over your pussy.

“nasty,” you say and zoro wants to kiss the curl that sits pretty on the corner of your lips. he settles for kissing your clit instead.

“you like it.”

“i like you.”

you wield your honesty with all the ease and carnage zoro wields his swords, sliding it between his ribs and piercing his heart clean through. the pain is lost as he’s distracted by the light pouring in as the moon rises higher into the night sky.

or maybe it’s your eyes that take the pain away because it’s only through them that he notices how bright the moon’s light shines tonight.

zoro devours you, gaze fixed to yours, one hand still holding yours while the other arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed. he takes his time cleaning you up, lapping at your folds until only the taste of you remains. it’s only then that he sucks your clit into his mouth, slipping two fingers inside you to give you something to clench down on.

you are a vision in your bliss, one he has no right to bear witness to. a lifetime of blood and blades and butchery shouldn't be rewarded with the softness of you in his hand and on his tongue. it's not right.

but as you take hold of his hair to keep his mouth pressed flush against your cunt, zoro finds he couldn't give less of a shit if it's right. all that matters is if he does right by you. there's an oath in every broad stroke of his tongue, a vow in every kiss to your clit, to take care of you in all the ways you need, in all the way he knows how.

today and for all days.

your orgasm is a gentle thing that washes over you and steals your breath for a moment, smaller than the first but leaves you just as ruined.

zoro takes his rightful place by your side once more, gathering you up in his arms and running his knuckles up and down your spine.

"thank you," you press a kiss to his cheek, just below where his scar ends. he accepts the kiss but not the gratitude that comes with it.

a hound needs no thanks for fulfilling its nature.

later, he will carry you off to the baths, let you pop open bottles for him to smell that make his nose itch but that make you beam, wash your back, and wait with the patience you’ve taught him for you to share what’s trapped inside your head.

he may not understand, may not have the comfort of words to give you, but he will listen. and he will stay.

but that is for later.

for now, zoro holds you to his chest and watches over you, moonlight and peace washing over you as you catch your breath.

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and loml @saotoru

[fushitoru]

omggg gojo at the brothel but he's still a virgin is interesting to me..... like what if he's received/given a little sloppy but saved the main event for reader

yeaa..i've been brainrotting about this scenario. like going off of what @avaults said about walking in on geto at a brothel because geto invited him there for "business,"

warnings: oral sex (m recieving), 3sum at the beginning, 4sum at the end?, sex work, bridgerton era!gojo being a virgin and being gagged when he see two naked women, this is NOT CANON (unless i change my mind).

gojo walks into the room and sees two naked women with geto, one sucking his dick and one kissing him so sinfully.

gojo's trying to gain his senses, because he's just so shocked at the sinful display in front of him. it's so lewd, and he didn't expect to walk into that. but geto heard him come in, so his lips seperate from the other girl's so wetly and he easily turns his head, siren eyes meeting gojo's wide open ones.

"ah, so you've arrived," geto lazily remarks, while the girl at his side trails sloppy kisses down his neck. his free hand is entertwined with the girl licking at his member, taking it deep in her throat that geto lazes his head back from the pleasure.

gojo, now that the sight has finally settled in as reality, blinks. clears his throat. "well, it's absolutely wonderful to know you're having an amazing time. i'll leave you to your squanders---"

"no." geto cuts him off, still laidback, easy. he gestures to the woman he was kissing, just a slight move of his fingers, and now the lady is looking at gojo. as she prowls his way to him, his heart speeds up, realizing the situation he was in. the woman is naked, her breasts and the figure of her body carved softly. as she walks over to him, who is fully clothed, she alluringly glides him to a chair right by the foot of his bed.

"it is an honor to be able to pleasure you, my lord," she purrs, undoing his breeches with a practiced hand. he looks to geto in alarm, flustered yet enticed, as geto waves his hand dismissively.

"make sure you do it softly and don't overwhelm him. it's his first time after all."

a/n woahhh two things written in one day! sorry for the bridgerton!gojo drought pookies. did not have the balls to make this canon i'm still in a dilemma. but pls don't get your hopes up it's like a 2% chance i declare this canon

[sweetimpurity]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 22! coming in late ugh! but we get a two for one special today be on the lookout cw: minor breathplay wc: 932 ੈ✩‧₊˚

It’s not often you’re the one being chased. You’re usually the one finding anomalies and taking them down, taking them back to HQ. But tonight, you’re the one who’s being hunted. Tonight you’re the villain and he’s on the prowl. 

Your webs strain and thwip from building to building. Running and sliding over rooftops, climbing windows and fire escapes. Trying to find a place to hide out and see if you can spot him. You know he’s not far behind you. But you both turned your trackers off so there’s no telling where he is exactly. 

It’s exciting. All of this. And you told him to play it up. Told him to pick you up and throw you around a bit if he wants. Something you’ve been craving.

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. A telltale sign that he’s close. You can sense him. You’re perched on a skyscraper, tuning out the sounds of busy Nueva York city to listen for him. Trying to listen for his breath, his heartbeat, his steps, anything. 

Staying deadly still, dialing your senses to 11. Scanning your surroundings and trying to pick up anything you can. A metal creak has you turning to see the source, only for his hand to grasp your face, sharp talons pricking your cheeks. “Found you.” He growls. 

Instantly you’re jumping from your hiding spot. A rush of adrenaline and energy. His hands try to grab onto you as you launch yourself from the edge of the building, thwipping and pulling yourself to a neighboring skyscraper and making your way down the block. The chase is really on. 

As fast as you can, you’re pulling yourself through buildings, sprinting across rooftops, looking back at any chance you get to see him trampling up the sides of buildings. Huge and hulking as always. His claws digging into the brick and sparking off metal siding. It’s scary. Like being chased up a flight of stairs. Knowing every new step you take, he’ll already be up one step too. Your heart is beating so fast and hard. 

You get to the edge of a crane, more than a hundred feet in the air. The wind whipping past your cheek and taking one second too long to decide your next jumping point. When his red glowing webs reach you, wrapping around your torso, making you gasp, trying to break out of them but he’s gaining on you, climbing up the crane on all fours, like an animal stalking its prey. “No no no!” You squeal with a smile, heart beating out of your chest and messing with the webs to break them. And he’s smiling too, watching you trying to escape him. 

Once the webs finally break and you’re free, you lean back, allowing yourself to freefall. But he lunges forward, talon tacking in your suit before grabbing you by the throat, his big hand firm yet gentle. Not to hurt you, just to hold you. “You should stop running, baby, I caught you…” 

“I can still get awa-” You gasp, your hands coming up to hold onto his wrist as his fingers tighten just slightly around your airways for a moment. Forbidding you from finishing your sentence. The pad of his thumb pushes your head to the side, and his head tilts to keep looking in your eyes. “Go ahead and try… see if I’ll let you get away…” 

The words stoke the fire already burning inside you. Making you want him, making you need him right now. But you need to play the game. And you can see that glint in his eyes, telling you he’s loving this too. 

He moves quickly, releasing your throat and grabbing you up in his arms, pressing himself to you and trying to squeeze you in his grasp. And there’s that vulnerable moment you’ve been waiting for. Squirming from his hands and stepping back off the crane structure, falling off the edge and out of his grasp, but he’s instantly on you. Soaring through the air and he swoops in, grabbing you around the waist, instead pulling you the opposite direction. Swinging on his neon webs up through the night sky. You could struggle, you could fight, but the feeling of being so snuggly kept beside him, the cold air in your face, the flip in your stomach as you fly through the sky, knowing he’s got you now, knowing you’re caught. It’s enthralling, it’s intoxicating. 

“I’ve got you, just give in to me…” He smirks, jumping onto a skyscraper rooftop. Wind whipping past both of you. The moon is the only source of light this far up. City lights are far below. “You can’t run anymore…” 

He’s on you, stopping your squirming and smiling when he can hear the laughter that bubbles up in you. Pushing you down on the cold metal, holding your hands behind your back and wrapping some of his webs around them. Not the artificial ones that glow red, but his. And it’s now you’re like a fly in his trap, in his web. He’s quick to shred your suit, finding how wet you’ve become. Who knew you’d love being chased like this, treated like you’ve done something you need to be punished for. 

“You stay nice and still now…” He huffs, prodding your core with his cock and nudging at the entrance. His long fingers grabbing into your hair and tugging gently, just to lift your head and hear the gasps, the whines, the cries that escape you as he slips in your cunt to the hilt. 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[crying-fantasies]

Bathing

Masterlist

Featuring TFA! Optimus Prime, Smut/fluff/humor, CW: The reader wants the robot, kissing, indecent thoughts, use of lube/fluid, painful stretch, penetration, and mass displacement, mention of off comments about xenophobia (it's the Animated universe), Optimus is a prudent lover, get yourself someone that looks at you like Optimus does.

Cold cleansing fluid over an exhausted frame is always a pleasure, a way to wind out stress over his depleted circuits, a moment of peace or a good place hidden from the others to let out his frustration in more than one way, be it screaming or just standing there in complete silence, overthinking on his judgment and what he can do to better himself.

Cold fluid doesn't go well with you, what is a nice cold for him is a frostbite inducing juice for you, and you could get cooked by warm fluid, took a moment to finally adapt.

You’re nothing but adaptable, and Optimus has problems following your lead when your idea to use his washing room first appears, your patience is a prominent factor in the whole process.

“Is it okay for me to-?”

Your words would hardly keep at bay the need in them while holding his hips flush to yours, feeling the plush give of your skin, the warmth of your welcoming arms as they hold his back strut, still bigger than you, but in this size, it so much easier to left the drain closed, let it flood the closed compartment, you catch his interest with the way your fingers drag nails over his plating, sending tremors down his frame as you pull him down and your tiptoes do what they can to put you closer, Optimus has kissed you before, many times, and he still can't get enough, you're so brave but also so greedy, he is reminded of such when your tongue makes contact with his derma, making him vent hot steam and soon welcoming your intrusion, holding your hips over, letting himself be greedy, be passionate in other ways as his leg strut helps you to be near, your legs don't hold onto his hips as the fluid is already so helpful to let you float if only a bit, gives you free rein to show your greedy affection, one that shines bright for the both of you when he still struggles to let you know of his more openly outside a little tease that only earns him a kiss as a “you tried”.

Cybertronians are very closed of mind when it comes to a lot of things like tastes or preferences, but if you could condense it to a more basic point, it would be that Autobots can't show their very own selves, pressured under way too many rules, such scrutiny since the moment they get forged, you're no stranger or could oversee how they handle themselves or one another, while the first guys are way more open with how they are you get to learn that such factors of theirs are what got them in so much trouble in the first place when Sentinel and even the very one autobot leader arrived, well, they put down just what they thought of organics while also making some off comments about the bots under their rank.

Bumblebee is an exception to that, being his very own dorky self, and also being the first one to end up in a dead-end worker group, Bulkhead got out of his shell too, with time, being a variant since heavy worker frames shouldn't invest their time in fine arts, Prowl is never quiet about his love for organic life and Jazz seems to learn a thing or two about it if the way he greets you now if anything to go by, Ratchet is, as always, unapologetic in what he thinks, experience and life itself making him see what is import above species, ages or even beliefs.

Optimus was the harder to crack open, but almost dying not once but twice makes him see that, yeah, the autobot code isn't absolute for everything, and once he does doesn't take much for him to finally make a double take and, okay, maybe he does like you in some way that isn't becoming of an autobot, no matter how lower is the rank.

Still, not even the fact of almost dying two times makes it any easier to leave behind what he has always been taught since the time in the academy or the very same cycle he was forged, Optimus struggles with the bare minimum of open affection, hand holding is hard as it is since he is way bigger than you, he is holding his gaze down or shielding you with his frame when a poisonous gaze over you or whoever that is composed of meat and not metal, but Optimus is kind, he is sweet, he just struggles with tenderness between different species just as normally as anyone should, you also have problems with it as both are in the same boat.

Optimus is tenderness impersonated, but he is also the embodiment of awkwardness, especially when there is a moment you want to be intimate, trying to appear collected, the voice of reason, the first one to say “It won't fit” when he is still way taller than you while mass displaced, and yes, he is the one to push you away a bit even when his face can't be more flushed by energon as his servos press against you, but you let it go, because he has a point, it won't fit just like that.

Thus, is your explanation on why you had dragged him back to a bathing house in the next town, a place big enough for him to move around, once inside the underground parking lot, no prying optics to see in such an old place, Optimus is still amazed by the rudimentary environment, too familiar with Detroit and the futuristic lifestyle, it was shocking for him to see that not everyone has a robot maid or a talking Roomba, even more when he notices that the bathhouse is so old that they still used powder soap that he can trace in the walls, engraved by years of use and natural chemicals in an abstract gallery in the forgotten paint.

A glimpse into the old ways of humanity and Optimus looks at you with sincere appreciation, the place has been abandoned for years, but the water is still running, hot and natural, at first he is weirded out by your suggestion, being the voice of reason against your horny self that knew almost no boundaries since the moment your greedy hands got into private, confidential information when he didn't notice you walking into his berthroom.

“What about an infection?”

“What about your dick in my-?”, he never lets you finish, a servo soon over your mouth, but you bet it is more due to making him feel strained against his panels than real prudence if the colorful blue of his is anything to go by. He is sweet, the most kind you've ever dated, with his helm well placed over his shoulders to think first about your overall wellness over the pleasure, but that precious part of him is only adding fire to the growing hell fire in your pants because there is nothing more precious and hot than such a gentlemech that really likes you, what's more, letting yourself hope he loves you. If he does love you, then the minimum thing you could do is at least try to suck his intake until he is begging for mercy or grunting over your ear to the point of losing yourself only for him to take back together in his arms.

The answer, hidden in plain sight in front of you, comes when you take some time with him inside his berthroom, Optimus cycles his optics once, then twice when you seem to find bountiful heaven in his private washroom, eyes bright and mouth covered by your hands, almost like you were soon to fall to your knees by some kind of miracle, “anything important there?”. Optimus realizes, soon enough, that that shiny twinkle in your eyes is anything but a promise of your deviant wishes.

One request got an answer, a very heated one, and before he could say anything beyond the “Are you sure?” you were soon getting your underwear out, leg propped up against the wall.

Turns out, the desire humans could show was really beyond the understanding of a cybertronian, or Optimus was truly out of his element while you tried if the cleaning fluid would do any harm to you once he checked the chemical components twice, only heated it a tad bit more and you were ready to go.

Optimus has half the processor to repent for his lack of loving gestures toward you, is anything, he has hardly some time to do so much as your hand reaches around the seams of his modesty panel, letting go of his dermas to let him feel the drops of fluid falling to his face plate as you delve deeper into his frame, he embraces you in the right way, holding and finally showing his version of unbound passion as his derma kisses softly over your exposed neck, trying to see once again what he is keeping away from you, a hard squeeze down there has his denta barely scratching over your skin as he gives you the most reverent and hot gaze he has ever shot at your direction, “can you show me again, big guy?”

The washing room isn't the only thing flooding if the pinkish fluid streaming out of his panel is something to lead yourself, at first as a question, but of course, with an alien lover comes more than one interesting detail about his anatomy that you're eager to learn about, Optimus can hardly hold his mind together when you hold him for the first time, dragging the tip of his spike over your entrance, teasing, and he has to bite down a nasty comment, but he is sure a steaming “you're fragging hot” is way too bland for you, no matter as it seems as you laugh breathlessly, hardly reaching the button to stop the fluid from falling over you, it doesn't stop you, your fingers doing quick work to use it as extra moisture, all he can say, or do, is a sound between a wheeze and a laugh by the way you clamp down on him, there are no words above a function glitch when you keep down and down. Servos dragging over your exposed skin, he fears you could fall from his hold, your hands pushing at his shoulder armor, only to realize your wandering and lustful gaze when your bodies connect, he also follows your eyes, looking how he is almost all inside, your body almost freefalls again, his servos hold on your midsection, one soon flying to protect your head from any impact against the wall, must be fear, must be the way he reached inside in a different angle, almost sure he poked a bone or something else, so little, so sweet, you drag him in, kissing him senseless as he seems to have done a right move if the lovely sound you drown on his dermas and the squeeze that almost makes him bluescreen.

“See that?”, your hips move, undulating, the fluids drenching you from head to toe, drops falling slowly over your curves, over that little rise of your skin where he is sure the tip of his spike is teasing against your flesh, “it did fit”.

.

Optimus with a gremlin-like partner is something I love dearly, not sure who asked for the prompt with TFA Optimus but it was a delight, dear.

@tf-kinktober2024

[revelboo]

Do you have any thoughts on Cliff jumper? I think he's neat in a totally healthy way 🫣

Never tried to write for him…

TKO

Cliffjumper x Reader-accident

• “No,” Cliffjumper growls, servos flexing against the urge to snatch the weapon back from the engineer, who’s not even listening to him. Hasn’t been listening this whole time. “I don’t want it improved. I just want it to stop overheating. That’s it.” From the corner of his optic, he spots the human. Wheeljack’s little…pet? Friend? He has no idea. It’s staring at him, though, that scrutiny unsettling. Why anyone wants something so squishy and just weird around is beyond him.

• “Sure. Right,” Wheeljack murmurs in that tone he knows too well. The engineer’s lost in his own world and is not only going to frag up his gun, he’s probably going to completely destroy it. “I’ve got this.” Sure. Swallowing a growl as he gives up and stalks out of the lab, he’s aware of the human watching and just can’t get why it’s kept around, allowed to roam the halls like it belongs. It’s just a weak, little organic from this miserable mudball they’re all trapped on.

• There is one thing he enjoys about this world. Leaning into a curve in the road later that day, he soaks in the quiet. Sometimes he just needs to get away from the noise of the Ark, let the solitude of this world sink into him. Prowl and Red Alert still insist on patrols even though he’s never seen any sign of the Decepticons this close to base, but he’s not complaining. It wouldn’t matter if he did. There’s so many Autobots stranded and he’s never been the biggest or strongest. Always there, always overlooked no matter how hard he works.

• He sees the truck on the side of the road ahead, the two humans standing outside it. The bigger one throwing his arms up as the smaller one walks away. Some petty human argument. He’s almost to them when the bigger one grabs the smaller human’s arm, wrenching on it as the smaller one struggles, longer hair catching the sun. Yanking loose as the other lifts its free hand in a fist and stumbling back. Falling into the road in his path.

• He transforms without thinking, peds leaving the road as he throws himself over that little body and slams into the dirt, rolling and swearing. When he lifts his helm, the bigger human is gone, that truck speeding away. The other one is still sprawled in the road staring at him with wide eyes and frag, he remembers Optimus’s decree that if they’re seen, reveal themselves to a human, they can’t let them escape. Can’t hurt them either. One of them is long gone, growing ever smaller in the distance. But the other? Frag him. One is bad enough, but he can’t let two of them see him and get away.

• Laying sprawled in the road in frozen horror, your brain just keeps bouncing from the fact that your boyfriend just left you to the giant, metal monster slowly regaining its huge feet. And you can’t move, can barely breathe. The sound of those heavy feet approaching finally breaks through your shock. Because a huge hand is reaching for you and nope. Not happening. Rolling, you’re scrambling to your feet, lunging to avoid those huge fingers swiping at you with a frustrated snarl. Then you’re running flat out in a blind terror, because that thing is chasing after you.

• Primus, it’s fast for such a tiny thing. Screeching nonstop as it races off into the desert. And oh, it’s tempting to just let it go. The sun’s baking him, surely a fragile, little organic wouldn’t last long out there. Problem solved and he wouldn’t be saddled with the thing. It’d get lost out there and probably never be seen or heard from again. Not his problem to deal with.

• He keeps chasing after it, anyway. Guilt spurring him on. He doesn’t want a human to look after. Doesn’t need this mess to deal with. Ahead, it stumbles and this time he manages to get a grip on it, almost dropping it again in surprise at how disturbingly soft that little body is in his servos. It screams out again, thrashing like a mad thing even though it must know it can’t win. That doomed, desperate struggling is impressive in a way. Refusing to give up. Wild eyes stare up at him as he adjusts his grip on it to make sure it can’t wriggle free and get accidentally dropped to its death. He can feel that little heart pounding so quickly against his servos as it keeps fighting, screaming out for help that’s not coming. “Sorry, but you’re not going anywhere,” he sighs. You’re both fragged.

Next

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat : chapter 5

Pairing: Alpha Bucky × Omega Reader

Warnings: R18, Smut, Not what it seems, ABO dynamics, knotting, biting, bruising, sexual themes, adult themes

Word count: 2029

Bucky Masterlist

Summary: As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

He circled his fingers around the necks of the bottles, letting his nails cut through the wet labels as he pulled the beers from the cooler. The ice crunched together as it filled in the gap left behind before Bucky shut the lid and walked away.

His associates sat outside, and as he offered one of the beers as he approached one of the other men.

The third gentleman sat, unmoved, in a luxurious deck chair. His legs were spread, creasing his white trousers as his ankle sat on top of his other knee. He scratched at the chin of his dark goatee, looking back at his colleague through tinted glasses.

“I take it that the shop talk is over.”

Bucky sat back on his chair, rubbing his temple as Tony spoke.

“Not that it isn’t interesting.” Steve laughed back as he smoothed down a stray tuft of his sandy blonde before reaching back down to twist the top off his beer. A bit of foam followed after to dribble out over his thick fingers, and he switched the bottle to his other hand as he tried to shake the mess from his skin.

"Geez, Buck. Did'ya shake it?”

Bucky shrugged, laughing a little as he popped the cap off his own bottle and sat back before Steve shot back with another joke.

“Is this your way of getting back at me?”

Bucky shot back with equal sarcasm. “Yeah, I shook your beer because you were prowling through my Omega’s profile.”

“Can’t blame me for being a little jealous.”

“Oh? Back on the dating game, boys?" Tony gave them both a smirk as he asked.

“I think it really came through this time.” Bucky said before taking a sip of his beer.

“She has you smitten this soon?” Steve smiled back.

“She’s something else; I could tell right away.”

“I feel like I’ve heard this song before.” Tony teased, turning his eyes away from the other men.

“I know that this time is different. It’s that itch in my belly that had never been there before. She just really brings my Alpha out just when I hear her voice.” Bucky brought the spout back to his lips and knocked back another swig of beer before continuing to speak.

“I think that website finally came through for me.”

“You lucky bastard, but I can’t say they don’t owe you one at this point.” Steve shined back as he sipped up the last of his beer.

“I hope they know better than to let this end like any of the last ones.” Tony shot back, still trying to crack the sugar coating on this story to find a more realistic center. “I still say it’s no better than burning your money, especially after how long you’d had the subscription.”

“Says a man who’s already married.” Steve tried to grin away a small sneer.

Tony was a Beta—a married Beta with a baby on the way. He would never know the struggle of finding one’s perfect match when there were so few to look through.

“Besides, the girls get it for free, so somebody has to pay.” Steve didn’t even look up from his empty bottle when he said it more to himself than the other men. The website didn’t advertise as such to the desirable Omega’s, but the Alpha’s were given a much more formal subscription through a sister site. The Alphas were always willing to pay, of course.

“I just think that at this point, it would have to feel like a scam after all you’ve been through.” Tony spoke back.

"Well, there will be hell to pay if it is.” Bucky didn’t look back up as he answered, choosing instead to watch the swirl of his beer as he tipped the bottle back and forth.

Tony finally cleared his throat, annoyed that his pushback didn’t yield any results. “You know, I’ve heard some stuff about that place.”

Bucky hesitated before giving a stern “So have I.”

Tony took a deep breath, not wanting to insult his long-time friend any further. “I’m not saying you're that kind of person. You’re a good man, Buck. I just wish you didn’t associate with something that didn’t match your character.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t do those kinds of things. I want to do right by any girl of mine.”

Bucky never led any of his friends to believe he was anything less than an upstanding man, so Tony believed him as he spoke.

Steve cleared his throat, trying to disperse the cloud of awkward tension in the air. Especially what had circled his own head.

“Love at first sight then; I hope she lives up to this hype.”

“I’d say so.”

“Caught the fish I couldn’t.” Steve smirked back before leaning forward to tap his empty bottle against the one still in Bucky’s hands.

Bucky closed the gap with a little ‘clink’ to finish the small toast to his success.

“And don’t think you can try and steal her.”

Fed up with the sparks of jealousy, Tony hit his knees with the palms of his hand before pushing up from his seat.

“Well, I think it’s my turn to get a drink.”

With his colleague’s departure, Bucky felt the subtle buzz in his pocket before he could pull Steve into another conversation.

Bucky lifted his finger to excuse himself before walking back, passing Tony and his now-full glass of scotch.

He flipped his phone open, finding a picture on the small screen. He has to bring the phone closer to his face before yours becomes recognizable in the image of a changing room.

It was from an angle to show a flowy floral dress that ended along your upper thigh. It dipped along your bustline and tightened around the hourglass dip at your waist.

He smiled, leaning on the wall as another notification lit across the top of the little screen to signal you’d sent another photo.

You had gone through with your little shopping excursion, lifting your once dampened spirits. It was actually nice to like how you look in new clothes, and you made sure you weren’t the only one.

There was no doubt that you were perfectly Omega. From your overall shy demeanor to the soft shape of your gorgeous body as it lights up across the screen.

Bucky had had his fill of pushy women. He wasn’t asking for a servant, just an equal partner, but their demanding nature too easily turned him off.

He looked back at the glass door that stood between him and his friends out on the deck. It was just a small gesture to secure his privacy as he clicked a few buttons to bring himself to the new picture.

It was a romper, a low v-cut sitting over your breasts as the ends of the shorts rose high along your thighs.

He lingered on each dip and curve for as long as it would take to paint the picture to his memory before thumbing back with, ‘Doing some shopping, doll?’

He didn’t have the luxury of watching your response load with the dance of bouncing dots, but was almost immediately met with, “Yeah, I didn’t have vacation-friendly clothes. Whatcha think?’

‘The second one is a bit risqué, isn’t it?’

You flinched at the last message, and you hoped that it didn’t mean you offended him.

‘Oh geez. It is a bit, but I already bought it.’

‘I never said you didn’t look good; it’s certainly more than I’ve gotten to see so far ;)'

You laugh a little, feeling bashful upon seeing the little winking face as you hold your phone close. You wanted to type back, but his messages popped up before you could.

‘Are there any more pictures I can look forward to?’

‘I sent a few; you should have gotten them by now.’ You answered back just as quickly.

His simple flip phone wasn’t that great at receiving pictures, but just in time, two more made it through.

It’s you in a long, flowy dress of blue, showing less skin besides a leg peeking out from a slit at the side. It was cute; it looked form-fitting and soft.

The other was a simple plaid button-up top and a pair of denim shorts. You had your body turned to show the curve of your ass as a little peeked out the bottom of the denim. It made him glad that he’d be having you all to himself over that weekend.

His tongue spread over his lips as he pictured the thin strip of denim that would be covering your hidden pink center and how the seams would pop as he tried to pull it out of his way to find it.

‘Please tell me you bought that last one.’

‘Just the shorts, the shirt seemed like it would be too hot.’ You tapped away with a reddening smile before lifting your gaze back up to the other stores ahead. A familiar cursive name lit up in pink crossed your vision before you stepped towards it.

He must have been lost in thought as he studied the last few outfits, giving you time to let your own wander around the rest of the shops.

It had been a long time since you had this much fun, and even as you crossed through the threshold of the store and looked around at its overpriced goods, you wanted nothing more than to treat yourself like the beautiful omega he seemed to see.

There were some stringy pieces in the back, all lace and a little fabric. Not quite your style, so you kept browsing. There were a few baby doll dresses, some with fluff, and one that was nearly see-through. You eyed the black mesh bashfully, only now feeling just a bit in over your head.

You pinched the fabric, a little surprised at how silky the mesh was between your fingers.

You pulled it off the rack, sizing it up against your body, before shifting your eyes towards the changing room and thinking about what a good picture this beauty would make.

By the time your clothes were off and the dress was on, you knew it would be an immediate purchase before you even snapped the photo. You almost wanted it to be a surprise, but you craved this new kind of attention. To push past the edge of flattery into something deeper, maybe even darker.

Bucky stared at the small screen as he tried to navigate to any new photos, only to have it buzz between his fingers. It was you in a thin black nightie, showing him just a glimpse of everything he’d been pining to see. The subtle dips of your body and bare skin, the apex of your smooth thighs still hidden under the black hem, and the dark circles of your soft nipples nearly totally visible through the sheer fabric over your breasts.

He felt the air being punched out of his lungs like a blow to his stomach. It was one of the few times he would curse himself for not having a more modern phone because he couldn’t zoom in further.

‘Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?’

You replied with a cheeky ‘just a little’ before another photo flooded over his dinosaur of a phone.

This time you were facing away from the mirror, showing the contours of the back of your body that were now visible. You’d tried to bend your leg so it popped your bottom out in a desirable pose. It did just as you’d wanted, giving him a view of the cleft of your round ass as if the negligee were melting away to finally reveal your bare body.

He had to close the phone just to better calm himself so his building erection could leave as quickly as you’d given it to him. He’d never hear the end of it if he walked out, as it began to strain against his jeans.

There was no question now, even before his last message came through. You would absolutely be buying this one.

Chapter 6

Tags : @bethyruth @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr @buckysdoll85 @lendeluxe @meowmeowyoongles @heletsmelovehim @mcira @buckysbaby-doll @serendipitouslife90 @unicornicopia1 @animegirlgeeky @matchat3a @darkdemeter @onyxwolf @thebuckybarnesvault @nicestgirlonline @jbuckybarnesfan @val-writesstuff @birdenthusiastez @ozwriterchick

[mychlapci]

Prowl’s nozzles start aching out of nowhere, one day. A hot, throbbing ache that just won’t go away. Easy to ignore at first, but as the days pass it becomes intolerable. Soon he’s finding his hands gravitating to them, pressing, then rubbing, then outright massaging them for relief. Not even noticing that he’s doing it until he finds people staring at him during conversation. Entranced with the way he’s rubbing and squeezing at his headlights. They’re so sore and achy, is the thing, just begging to be touched. Prowl just needs a little relief, and then he can get back to work. The wash of embarrassed arousal makes him moan low in his throat. His coworkers just stare at his groping hands as they nod. Swallowing hard.

Prowl’s so distracted by the ache that he doesn’t notice the swelling at first. Going from flat mesh to an undeniable pair of breasts in a matter of weeks as Prowl whines and tugs at his sore nipples. Still sitting at his desk, doing his work. His bumper gets so full that his tits start pressing against the hood and Prowl still doesn’t notice until it’s popping open and smacking him in the face. Coaxing his hood closed again is nearly impossible, tits straining against it. The pressure against his sore boobies is… undeniably erotic. But he’s hardly going to masturbate in the workplace, so instead Prowl stews in his charge all day. Node tingling and belly tight as he massages his perpetually sore tits.

Prowl’s tacnet can handle the vast majority of his duties with very little personal input—although of course Prowl’s attention enhances the results—something that turns out to be a blessing when the awful, aching press of his sensitive buds against his hood steals his breath away. Luckily Jazz bringing him his cubes provides enough of a distraction from the sting. It’s all so overwhelming, so sudden and foreign, that when his hood flies open again and flashes Jazz a framed view of his still-growing tits Prowl finds his optics leaking. He’s not even sure why he’s crying, just that he can’t stop. It’s humiliating, is what it is. Nothing to bother Ratchet over, surely, but embarrassing all the same. When Jazz makes a comforting noise, it all comes spilling free. The ache and the stretch, the too-full feeling in his breasts, and the way they’d just begun swelling one day and how overwhelmed he feels and and and—

“Let me help you feel better, Prowler,” Jazz offers, cupping his cheeks gently to wipe tears away.

“Okay,” Prowl croaks.

And then Jazz is standing between Prowl’s doorwings right where he can’t truly reach, arms wrapped around Prowl’s abdomen as he massages the tactician’s poor, aching tits. Deep, perfect pressure chasing the ache away for once until Prowl can’t help arching into his hands. Panting steam. A long, low groan when Jazz starts rolling his sensitive nozzles between his fingers.

“Theeeere ya go, Prowler,” Jazz croons, “that’s a good mech.” Prowl doesn’t even notice, too busy basking in the relief. It quickly becomes their little secret. After they’ve had their lunch together, ferried in by Jazz, the mech treats Prowl to a lovely titty massage that leaves his node blinking and his pussy wet. Yet no matter how aroused the tactician gets, moaning and whining needily as he tries to thrust his still-growing boobies into Jazz’s squeezing hands, his spike never even tries to pressurize. Stays soft and sweet and small in its sheathe even as Prowl’s node swells a little. Every day the massage gets a little less professional as Prowl gets effectively conditioned by the pleasure to love his breasts.

The first time Prowl overloads just from having his slutty tits played with is the day Jazz finally teases milk out of them. Jazz likes to press their panels together as he teases Prowl’s nozzles from behind, taking note of the growing heat without ever saying a word. Prowl’s so grateful to have him as a friend; he’s so understanding and generous. And then Jazz circles his fingers around Prowl’s stiff nipples and tugs, moaning in surprise when they come away damp. Prowl nearly crashes when he realizes he’s started lactating, but Jazz helps him realize how wonderful and useful it is. How many sickly mechs he can help with his yummy, purified milkies. Orphaned sparklings, injured mechs, Jazz… It keeps him from going to Ratchet to get it turned off. That and the clear desire he can see on Jazz’s face at the thought of sucking Prowl’s titties.

Somehow the question of how or why this is all happening never seems to cross his mind. Oh well… the tacnet chugs away at the strategies and Prowl can’t deny how wet his valve is getting as Jazz nurses for much longer. The pressure is finally lessening, but the warm, wet feeling of Jazz’e mouth on one nozzle as the mech’s hand teases the other has charge crackling across Prowl’s frame. Prowl’s spike stays soft… but his pussy is slowly soaking the inside of his panels. Until Jazz gives it a teasing little squeeze, fingers lingering over the spot where Prowl’s entrance would be if the panel was open. And then Prowl’s overloading with a low moan, clutching Jazz close to his ample chest. Valve fluttering and calipers clenching on nothing. So empty, so needy.

From then on, Jazz milks and massages Prowl with his spike buried to the hilt in Prowl’s dripping valve. A pretty crystal plug fitted into Prowl’s sheath to keep his limp cocklet contained. Prowl’s favorite is when Jazz nurses directly, Prowl bouncing slightly as he rides the mech’s spike. Can’t help moaning. He’s starting to love his boobies. Starting to love the way they ache when they’re full of milk. His hood can’t close at all anymore, so he takes it off completely. Lets his sore, heavy boobies bulge against his bumper for anyone to see.

Soon Prowl is in a near constant state of arousal, unable to keep his paws off of his huge, warm, *milky* tits when Jazz isn’t playing with them. Lately Jazz has him moaning that he loves his tits before letting Prowl orgasm, pinching Prowl’s nipples when he’s a little too slow. And Prowl squeals when he’s punished, hips dragging against the cushioned seat of his office chair. Node blinking with charge.

“Try again, Prowler,” Jazz croons, massaging the sting of the pinches away, “I didn’t quite believe you.” And Prowl squirms in his seat, nipples tingling and pouches aching from being overfull. So hot, so desperate to cum that he doesn’t even fuss.

“I love my titties, Jazz,” Prowl moans eagerly, this time thrusting his chest into the other mech’s face. Jazz rewards him by pressing him lips together and suckling until Prowl’s dry, fingering him all the while. Granting overloads whenever Prowl moans about how good it feels and how much he loves his big, swollen boobies. How happy he is that they’re all full of milk. Usually Jazz cums around then, and then feeds Prowl another cube.

Jazz, of course, is happy to keep supplying the doctored energon that is putting them in this “predicament”

-☀️

hgrhh... forcefem him... give him a pair of achy titties for Jazz to play with... He needs to become a pretty girl...

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2024 | Steddie Microfic

July 7th prompt: Free Space - Mystery, Hands, Long, Trade, Exes to Lovers or Getting Back Together, Drunken Confession (aka I combined all the prompts I didn’t use this week) | July prompt: one

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6

Word count: 1,111

No warnings apply

Rated T

@steddie-week | @steddiemicrofic

It was never a mystery, to Steve, how they got together. How they worked together.

The only mystery is how he managed to let him go—to lose him in a way Steve hadn’t understood until Eddie. Because Nancy was great, she was fantastic, Steve was in love. He doesn’t doubt that. But it never felt like it did with Eddie: low lights in the club, hands on each other’s bodies, open-mouth kisses that really was nothing more than them panting into each other’s mouths—

Stumbling into the bathroom, or into either of their bedrooms, hands in hair and under shirts and unbuckling belts—

Sleepy, slow morning kisses. Breakfast. Holidays.

How did it end?

Steve thinks, remembers fists clenched at sides, red faces, stiff shoulders.

Remembers shouted words, cold shoulders, slammed doors.

Remembers the key left on the kitchen counter.

That had done it, he remembers, he had called Robin, already sobbing, and she was on her bike and halfway there practically before she had hung up the phone. She’d held him as he fell apart on the kitchen tiles.

Then again, when he went to go to bed. Saw the two pillows. Threw one off; it hit the wall, slid down. Had to change the sheets; they smelled too much like him.

It took him a long time—a really long time—to get to the point he’d be okay on his own for more than a couple hours, to the point he could go out to clubs again. Not the same ones he’d gone to, never those, but… he moved on. Kind of.

He knew, and Robin knew, that part of him, at least, would always love Eddie.

It’s why when they’re in a club—a new one they had just found, okay music but better drinks and prospects—and Steve grabs her arm, she looks the direction he is.

He feels like he’s swallowing sandpaper. “His hair is longer.”

“It is.” She pries his fingers off, just so he’s not bruising her anymore, but holds his hand. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, watches the way Eddie prowls through the crowd, smirking at people, but still definitely on his way to the bar.

The bar. “I’m gonna get us more drinks,” he says. They both ignore the fact that they’ve barely touched their current glasses.

“Let me know if you need backup.”

“Will do.” He looks at her, for the first time since seeing him, and smiles. “Love you, Robbie.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Love you, dingus. Go get your man back.”

Steve makes it to the bar before Eddie, asks for whatever is on tap. Looks away at the wall. Can’t watch him walk up. 

“Long Island,” he hears directly beside him, and turns to see Eddie turning to see Steve.

He takes a breath. “Eddie.”

Eddie looks… he looks good, because he always does, but he looks tired, maybe a little thinner. Not… not good, not happy like he was. He swallows. “Steve.”

The bartender hands over their drinks, and Steve takes a sip only to cough. “Sorry, fuck,” he mutters, finally looking at the glass in his hand. He’s got the Long Island, and Eddie’s got his beer.

Eddie’s watching him with an interesting little smile. “Trade?”

“Trade,” Steve agrees, nodding. He coughs again. “God, how do you like that?”

Eddie snickers, pulls a lock of hair over his face. Steve wishes he wouldn’t.

Miraculously, they keep talking. They’re never searching for the next word to make the silence go away because there is no silence.

Eventually Robin comes up to him, pulls him into a hug. “Imma go home with that girl,” she murmurs, pointing behind her. A cute, preppy-looking blonde smiles nervously at Steve. He smiles at her, then back to Robin. “Of course. Call the house, give me the address.” He kisses her forehead. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” she grins, then turns to look at Eddie, eyes narrowed.

Eddie gulps. She grins, scary as anything, and whispers something in his ear that has him paling. “Yuh-yep. Yeah. Got it. Thanks Robin.”

Steve grimaces when she walks away. “What did she say?”

Eddie looks at him for a long minute. “Something I’ve known for a while now,” he eventually murmurs. 

It was inevitable, really, that they would end up back here, hands in hair and under shirts, stumbling into Steve’s apartment, panting into each other’s mouths, trying to undo buckles by memory because the worst thing in the world right now would be to stop kissing.

“God, Steve,” Eddie gasps, pulling him down the hall. “C’mon- c’mon, please, need you, need you-”

“Yeah,” Steve answers against his mouth, just as affected. He’s got his own pants halfway off, thinking about his shirt next, thinking about the lube in the drawer that hasn’t gotten as much action as it used to, and suddenly he aches for it. “Need you inside me,” he mutters, kissing down Eddie’s neck, stopping at a place behind his ear that he knows from experience makes Eddie’s knees weak.

“Fuck,” Eddie chokes out. “Yeah, yeah, c’mon, c’mon baby, lemme in you- lube’s in the drawer?”

Steve opens the drawer in answer, roots around until his fingers close on the bottle. Pushes it into Eddie’s hand, pushes him away so Steve can get naked.

Eddie’s eyes rake along his body. He drops his own pants just as fast, limbs flying as he strips out of his shirt too, clambering onto the bed beside Steve’s hip, eyes wide and fingers shaking as he lubes up.

It’s after, when everything’s cooling and drying and becoming itchy, that Eddie’s breath wobbles. “I shouldn’t,” he mutters into Steve’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t say anything. But hell if I don’t miss you like crazy.”

Steve closes his eyes, tries to keep the tears at bay. “You’re drunk.”

“I had less than one drink.”

The tears win. “We broke up for a reason,” he whispers. “Didn’t we?”

“I was scared,” Eddie says.

“And you’re not now?”

“Only of losing you.”

Steve sobs, can’t help it, but he feels Eddie’s hot tears on his neck, too, and that somehow makes it better.

It’s the next morning, after slow, sleepy kisses and breakfast, that Steve sighs. “I never stopped loving you. I don’t think I can.”

“I don’t think I can, either.”

Steve slowly turns to look at him. “So what does that make us?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know. All I know is it makes me yours.”

“Yours,” Steve parrots, daring to curl his fingers over Eddie’s, breath hitching when he holds on just as tight. “That sounds pretty damn good to me.”

[enigmatist17]

I am sick besties :( ergo a blorbo must suffer

This blorbo is part of the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon which one can find here

My parts so far 1 2 3

---

Prowl...did not panic. He was a mech equipped with the best battle computer known to Cybertronian kind, able to run probabilities and statistics faster than his emotions could register. Little surprised him, and up until recently, nothing had ever made his emotions supersede his battle computer.

Save for the scene before him, his servos trembling slightly as he holds the person who had captured his spark.

Jazz had not shown up for their morning refueling a few breems ago, and at first, Prowl had not minded, figuring Jazz was busy with something else. It's not until well into his duty shift that the concern starts, Ironhide popping into his office to ask after the organic, who had failed to show up for some sparring. His unanswered comms is what really makes his spark pulse with worry, various mechs clearing the halls as he heads to his (their) quarters, the door opening at his ping to show Jazz's mecha was still in its corner. Jazz is still in his berth, Wheeljack having created a smaller version that could be anchored just about anywhere on a magnetic surface if needed, the man groaning in discomfort. It's when Prowl gets closer that he registers the abnormal heat readings radiating off of the human, the ordinarily smooth intake and venting Jazz had stuttered and littered with the occasional cough as he struggled to get comfortable.

"Jazz?" Bleary brown optics flutter open at his name, Prowl's doorwings flaring up at the glassy look. "Jazz?"

"H...hey...hey Prowler..." Jazz's entire frame spasms when a loud series of coughs interrupts him, groaning softly when they finally stop. "Ow..."

"Your body heat has exceeded the temperature you told us was acceptable, is there any way I can help lower it?" A clawed digit gently rests against Jazz's cheek, and the human lets out a little whimper as he curls into the metal.

"Cold...feels good..." Prowl didn't dare to move as he sent Ratchet a worried comm, noting the sheen of sweat covering Jazz's face, his clothing damp from even more of it. Despite the heat reading not changing, Jazz pushed himself away from Prowl's servo a few minutes later, annoyance crossing his face as he burrowed under the thick fabric he called a comforter. "Too cold.."

"My body temperature has not changed, little shadow." Prowl softly trilled as he leaned closer, bleary eyes focusing on him after Jazz cycled his optics a few times.

"'S kay...fevers aren't fun..." Doorwings flutter at the familiar beat of Jazz reassuring him, despite clearly being exhausted with whatever was attacking his frame. "Could use water..."

"I shall get you some soon, I wish for Ratchet to look over you first." Jazz grumbled something as he moved to kick his blanket off. Prowl carefully logged the action, and Jazz weakly motioned him close. "Are you feeling warm again?"

"Mhm..can you hold me...so hot." Jazz whined as Prowl carefully slipped his digits underneath the warm human, cradling him carefully as Jazz went limp against his palm. "Mhm..."

"Rest, I will take good care of you." Prowl grabs the comforter with his free servo before going to hunt Ratchet down, surprising himself when he nearly snarled at a few Constructicons who got between him and the medical bay he sought. Jazz was cocooned within his comforter again when he was set down on a berth in front of the medic, Ratchet clearly at a bit of a loss but scanning the human anyways, if not for anyone but Prowl and his sanity.

"I don't know what you expect of me, but he clearly has some sort of errant programming running its course." Jazz had given Ratchet what he could about human health, but without being a medical professional (and royally fucked in ways he didn't feel like explaining to a bunch of alien mecha's), it was rudimentary at best.

"'S called the flu...can happen in space apparently.." Jazz mumbled from his little nest, hair matted and sticking up in all sorts of directions. "Just need rest...an' water.."

"That I can do something about." Ratchet left to go fetch some water from a small dispensary he kept for potential emergencies just like this, Jazz spilling some of it on himself in his desperation to drink the cool liquid. "Is there anything that might help within your mecha frame? Any sort of medication patch?"

"A wha?" The human seemed to struggle with the question, just staring at Ratchet before relaxing back against his blanket in exhaustion. "No...?"

"Do not worry sweetspark, we will do what we can to aid you." The medic had to fight a roll of his optics as Prowl carefully scooped Jazz back onto his servos, his tense stance from when he initially entered slightly relaxed as Jazz appeared not to be on death's berth.

"You're off-duty until he's recovered from this...flu, you'll need to keep him properly hydrated. I'll see if we can get his food synthesizer to make something easy on the tanks, he'll need it."

"Very well, thank you, Ratchet." Prowl left when Ratchet motioned for him to go with a grumble, Jazz finally in recharge once he had settled to be half-covered with his comforter, face pressed against his palm as he lightly snored. It had made his spark squeeze in distress to realize just how different he was from Jazz, unable to help his beloved from something that he had to battle within his own frame, far away from whatever medical aid his people could offer for such an illness. Prowl wanted nothing more than to drive this "flu" out and far away, but had to settle for cleaning up Jazz's berth one-servoed, cradling his sleeping partner in case he was needed.

He would be here until Jazz was back on his pedes with that bright grin of his, guardian to one that needed it most right now.

[marigoldendragon]

oh. I am more nervous posting this than I anticipated. I don't get the writing bug very often (last thing I wrote was at least a year ago) and I've never written fanfic before. But this one wouldnt leave me alone so... have some fluff and a drawing.

Lilia Vanrouge x reader. 400 words 

You sat there in Ramshackle lounge, across from Lilia, having just finished a long, difficult and necessary conversation about the nature of your relationship moving forwards. There were many things to consider when dating a fae, especially when you yourself were from a whole other world. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, a flush crept up your cheeks as the situation started to sink in. You were now officially dating Lilia Vanrouge.

You shifted in your chair ‘So what now?’ 

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his smile grew wide. You could see just the hint of his fangs as his vermillion eyes locked onto yours.

‘Now?’ 

A soft chuckle escaped him as he leaned forwards and slipped off his dusty chair. His feet didn't touch the ground, and yet you could swear he was prowling towards you. Eyes lidded, sultry, holding promises of devilish things yet to come as he crosses the distance. 

Your heart thudding a strong tempo in your chest, he leans over you. The swirling of butterflies now a raging storm as his face ghosts close to yours, wisps of hair tickling your face. His gaze piercing, breath heavy; he wants this as much as you do. You close your eyes, anticipating. His hands ever so gently caressing your face, tilt your head up so his lips can meet yours…

Only for his kiss to find your forehead instead. It’s soft, it’s tender, it's lovely. It wasn’t what you were expecting. 

He pulls back as you sit and blink in confusion. You look up at him, floating there, arms lightly crossed, body shaking in suppressed mirth with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. 

The storm inside you ran through the gamut of emotions in quick order, eventually landing on annoyance. The worst part, the worst part  was that it made you love him even more. Rogue. Villain. Rapscallion. You scowled up at him, making your displeasure known.

He floats further back, eyes glinting in the lamplight, feet barely above the threadbare carpets. Drinking in your reaction. Still barely suppressing his laughter. Smug as the cat who got the cream. 

Oh. Oh you were going to kill him. 

You leapt out of your chair with a small puff of dust as his deep laugh finally burst free. You swatted at him futilely as he elegantly danced away from your ire.

‘Come back here and kiss me properly you menace!’

Mirth crinkled his eyes as he blew you a kiss. 

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write where Sari asks NightLight how Ratchet and her became Conjunx endura?

This story caught the other's off guard for sure.

Hope you enjoy!

How did Nightlight and Ratchet get bonded?

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

TFA

The questioned started after movie night.

Nightlight had finished her evening patrols earlier than expected and the others had been preparing for Movie Night.

Nightlight had nothing better to do for the rest of the evening and decided to join in.

This made Sari very happy, seeing as Nightlight didn’t join in many nightly activities that were around patrolling or work.

The movie ended with its main protagonist getting married and riding off into the sunset.

Sari looked up to Nightlight, who was sitting next to Ratchet. Sari: “Nightlight, how did you and Ratchet get married?” All the bots are caught off guard by the question. Bumblebee: “Now that she mentions it, I don’t think either of you have told us.” Ratchet: “There is a lot you young bots don’t know.” Bulkhead: “Did you have a spring wedding?” Bumblebee: “Or maybe something like in a church?” Prowl: “…Who asked who?” Nightlight: “You do realize we did Conjunx rites? We didn’t do a ‘wedding’ like the humans do.” Sari: “Oh right, aliens… but then how did you get… umm…” Optimus: “Bonded?” Sari: “Yeah! Robo married!” Ratchet looks over at Nightlight and gives her a knowing smirk. Ratchet: “Yes Nightlight, how did we get ‘robo married’?” Nightlight looks uncharacteristically flustered and tries to make a break for it before Ratchet traps her on the couch using his magnets. Nightlight: “Ratchet!” Optimus: “Okay now I want to know.” Bumblebee and Sari: “Tell us!” Nightlight sighs in defeat. Nightlight: “All right, all right… sit down everyone… it’s a bit of a long story…”

…

It took place during the final days of the war.

The pair had been ‘dating’, if you could call it, for a while.

A couple hundred years give or take, but it felt a bit shorter given each other’s professions took a lot of time and dedication to.

It was a miracle for a field tech and detective could even find time for each other that wasn’t based on screen calls or rare mission briefs.

Nightlight’s most recent case had led her to the same base camp Ratchet was in.

It would soon come to her attention that the base would be under siege in a matter of days.

Normally a quick call would have sufficed in warning the others and getting the relief team on their way… if the base wasn’t under a tech blackout.

Nightlight made sure to call in the relief team for the base before racing to get to the base herself.

Ratchet was surprised to see Nightlight in the base looking so disheveled and panicked.

After briefly explaining the situation, the two helped getting the injured and other personnel bots out of the base before the siege started.

Too bad some Con scouts had entered earlier.

It was up to Nightlight, Ratchet and a few other bots to hold everything down before the others would arrive.

The small group was doing okay for the most part.

Ratchet spots a Con sneaking behind Nightlight. Ratchet: “Nightlight! Get down!” Nightlight immediately drops to the ground as Ratchet uses his magnets to throw the Con. Ratchet looks down at her worried as she hadn’t gotten up yet. She just stared at him. Ratchet quickly pulled her up, looking over for any injuries. Nightlight grabs his free servo. Nightlight: “Be my Conjunx?” Ratchet stops, completely caught off guard by the question. Nightlight punches a Con who was trying to attack them both. Nightlight: “We’re busy!” Ratchet shakes his helm in disbelief. Ratchet: “You decided that NOW of all times is the right time!?” Ratchet and Nightlight punch a couple more Con’s. Nightlight: “I am not going to go out without asking that.” Ratchet: “No one’s going out!” Nightlight: “Just being realistic—HEAD’S UP!” Nightlight drop kicks another Con. Nightlight: “I made my decision Ratchet… would you do me the honor of being my Conjunx for whatever time we have left?” Ratchet blinks before turning his helm to a nearby bot. Ratchet: “Kup!” Kup: “Yeah!” Ratchet: “You’re our witness for the Conjunx rites!” Kup does a double looking at Nightlight and Ratchet ducking from the blaster fire. Kup: “Now?!” Nightlight: “Please Kup?!” Kup: “… Sod it… Say your things! I’ll cover for ya!”

Both bots are fighting and yelling out their rites, gifting each other enemy blasters at one point.

Now officially Conjunx’s… just as the relief team came.

Everyone had survived, hurt and wounded heavily, but alive.

Many bots where surprised to hear that the sour field tech and detective had the bearings to do their Conjunx rites in the midst of battling the enemy.

The pair didn’t care too much about what the other younger bots were whispering about.

Mainly because Ratchet had a bit of a lovesick smile while Nightlight had tucked her helm on the side of his helm.

Both their servos tightly wound together.

They had lived for another day.

It would take them a few hours to get back to the capital for better care on their injuries.

It would also be a few days later before the war would have officially ended.

…

The team’s mouths were on the floor.

They were not expecting that!

Ratchet and Nightlight earned some respect on their names.

Optimus and Prowl are just surprised when they had made the rites.

It was completely dangerous and risky for Nightlight to make such a decision.

Though to put it in perspective, if she was that scared to risk doing one last thing with Ratchet before she went off line…

The two bots just hoped that they never had to see Nightlight make such risky decisions like that on Earth.

Bumblebee, Bulkhead and Sari are just floored with this story.

They were expecting something like a sappy love confession or them casually wanting to do it to lower their taxes.

This story gave the married couple a new light for the young ones to look at.

Optimus: “But there is one thing I don’t understand. Nightlight looked very flustered when mentioning about the story, why?” Bulkhead: “Maybe because she’s just embarrassed.” Ratchet chuckles. Ratchet: “No, its what happened shortly after we bonded.” Nightlight hid her face in her servos. Nightlight: “Ratchet please…” Ratchet: “The kids are going to keep on asking.” Nightlight graoned: “…Proceed…” Ratchet chuckled a bit rubbing circles on her back. Ratchet: “She apparently had a whole series of plans to ask me to be her Conjunx. All colored coded, alphabetized and in most likely to least likely to fail.” Sari: “Can we see it?” Nightlight jumps up and is out the door. Ratchet chuckles a bit. Ratchet: “Give her a couple of days, a few puppy dog eyes and maybe you get to see Plan Yellow C.” Prowl: “What is that one?” Ratchet: “Lets just say it involved several jetpacks, a few favors and Megatron’s sword.” Optimus: “Megatron’s what!”