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#and then the way he's in so much pain but his first priority is turning to her to help her get up

munv · 9 hours

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𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗬

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗦𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗲𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼?

I MISSED YOU GUYS SO MUCH MWAH MWAH MWAHH

It was a wednesday, and the day was going perfectly fine, before you were called over into the principals office.

"Itoshi [name], please report to the office. Itoshi [name]" hushed whispers spread out throughout the classroom and in the midst of it your best friend leaned over from her seat to whisper in your ear. "psstt..did you piss someone off?" you turned around to face the girl before letting out a sigh, "not that I know of..see you at lunch?'

"right!

Quickly, you made a beeline to the main office. The last thing you wanted to be was late, and then find out that you really did something wrong. The urge to crawl into a hole was all consuming not to mention, you mean, why the hell do these kids stare so much? They are such certified gossipers..

By the time you reach the office door you take a deep breath, this could either be your demise or your biggest accomplishment on the planet yet. There is no in between, only gratitude and pain. Raising a hand, you make a move to knock on the door. "Hello?". From within you could hear a voice call out in response, "come in!!" she yells out.

Sounds like she's busy you guess. Might as well make this one quick.

Opening the door, you walked into the room to face the woman in front of you. She was pretty, sure, but she was mainly soft whenever she didn't need to be. It was unnecessary considering how unruly most of the kids in this school were. "Itoshi-san! there you are,." "yes, is there something you need from me ms?" it was better to get to the point rather than some small talk right?. "Right right, i've gotten a call from your parents and it seems like an emergency of some sort popped up. They want you home immediately."

An emergency?..Did the house burn down or something? But either way if this is an "emergency" then they must've already picked up Sae to go home. "thank you for having me ms, I'll go pack my bag now." You bowed your head a little before walking out the door. Making sure to close it behind you.

What a pain..

First of all. What the fuck.

There were some thoughts here and there as to what the so called emergency could be. With Sae tightly hanging on to you, basically squeezing the bloodstream out your hand in the process, there was no way to say that this wasn't reality. Your mother was pregnant, yes, it was very obvious from one glance. But to think that she would be having the baby TODAY? your own father was ready to pass out.

The only thing that kept you grounded from running into that room was Sae. You weren't there for his birth now that you think about it, but what if someone bad happened? What if something happened to the baby? There have been some sorry instances that mothers made it but the baby didn't. If something happens to her, will your father really be able to take care of all three of you by himself?

what happens if this turns out like your past life?

Everything feels like everything is spiralling down on you, and it takes common sense to realize that this isn't just a game, this is real. The life you are living right now is real, the people beside you are real, and so are you. This isn't just some fantasy you've had after death, this isn't paradise. Everything around you is living and breathing, and this might be your last shot at having a proper life. So no matter what happens you have to take care of your family.

"nee-san."

A voice calls out to you. That's right. You have Sae, and he takes priority. You squeezed back his hand once again for the day. "I'm here, Sae." You assure him. "I know you are." he squeezes back with more force.

"But does nee-san know that I'm here to?" This takes you by surprise and you can only turn to look at Sae with shock plastered on your face. "stop taking on everything yourself.." he mumbles. But you're still able to catch it. It feels nice to not be alone, you realize. Usually you would take on everything on your own and shoulder everyone, but even sometimes you need to take a break for yourself too.

"so..you DO know how to be kind?" you teased. "I was just comforting you, you rude bum!" "who taught you that?!" "YOU" "TO HELL I DIDN'T" "THEN TO HELL YOU GO"

From a distance your father watched with a small chuckle. "they never really change..do they?" he said shaking his head.

It was three hours before they sent a nurse into the waiting room to inform your family that your mother and baby were completely stable. They let your father into the room first before anything. It made you a little nervous now that you were really thinking about it, but to have siblings, and a real family above all else made you happy.

It was a while before the doctors let you and sae in but it was worth the wait. On your way to the room he made small talk with you. "How does it feel to be an older sister kid?"

"It's a bit troublesome, but I think I can handle two of them." He then started to question Sae as well. "And how does it feel to have another boy in your family?" "lukewarm."

The doctor sweatdropped in response. "alright.." You walked a bit more before arriving to the room your mother is in. "alright, we're here" he took the courtesey to open the door. Inside laid your mother in a hospital gown on the bed, and to behold, was something wrapped in cloth in her arms.

Your father sat on the chair right to her bedside and waved you two over after watching the doctor leave.

"the family seems to be complete huh?" he laughed out.

ITOSHI OMAKE

"why is it looking at me like that?" currently sae was looking at his newborn baby brother. "did I look like that okaasan?"

Your mother let out a giggle at sae's cluelessness. "of course you did! you were the cutest baby!" she pulled on his cheeks a bit. "eugh..it looks weird."

"It's a bit odd how [name] never cried as a baby. Gave us a whole lot less work than expected." You sat on the bed directly next to your mother holding the baby. He didn't really open his eyes but you could tell it would be the trademark teal eyes. The eyelashes were already there anyways.

"Does he have a name yet?" you questioned. "Sadly no." your father sighed. "Your mother was out cold for a while so we're yet to name him anything."

your mother hummed while playing with your hair, soon starting to braid it before someone spoke up.

"Rin."

all eyes turned to the second youngest Itoshi in question. "his name will be Rin." he said poking a finger at the baby. Rin looked at sae before holding onto his finger, a smile then broke out on both the Itoshi's faces. Your smile followed after.

"alright then! its settled."

"welcome to the family little rin!" your mother announced. Laughter broke out into the room and you looked at your two younger brothers. "yeah..welcome rin."

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goldenavenger02 · 3 days

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old habits die screaming

There was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a vengeful ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

"Stop touching it!" Wyldfyre's yell ricocheted off of the walls of the infirmary as she tried to pull her injured leg away from Kai's prodding hands.

Kai just pulled in another deep breath, his anger threatening to bubble to the surface; he knew by the way she was trying to pull away from him and her shouting was a pain response that was very similar to his own but it wasn't Wyldfyre that he was mad at.

No, his anger was directed at Ras, at the new master of smoke and that weird girl he didn't recognize. There was that small part of him that always blamed the First Spinjitzu Master for starting this entire mess, but he wasn't sure that was where the blame needed to go this time.

This seemed disconnected from Ninjago and much more connected to the Wyldness, a place that no one except for Wyldfyre knew anything about and even then, she only seemed to understand the area of it where she had grown up.

Even if she knew about every inch of the vast expanse, it was not the time to question her about it with just how mangled her leg was.

"I'm trying to help, Wyldfyre," Kai finally responded after another attempt at a kick that had her hissing through clenched teeth, "but Nya, Sora and Frohickey are still working on repairing Zane, so I can't do much."

"You can stop touching it."

Kai let go to turn to the cabinets and grab one of the ice packs, snapping it before handing it to Wyldfyre who instinctively put it against her injured leg, "that's gonna be cold for about half an hour, Zane should be fully repaired by then and he can patch you up."

"You're not staying?"

"You're not the only one who needs to lay down for awhile," his thoughts drifted to Lloyd briefly who had spent the last couple of weeks wandering the monastery in a insomnia induced daze and was more then likely beating himself up somewhere, "and Nya's gonna need an extra set of eyes going through Master Wu's notes to see if we can find anything about Shatterspin or The Forbidden Five. You should get some rest."

"Fine, but I'm not gonna be happy about it."

"I don't expect you to be. I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

She nodded, giving him his chance to go take care of the next item on his list of priorities.

As he went, he couldn't stop his mind from flashing back to The Dark Island, forced to listen as Zane's father did his best to repair Lloyd's broken bones the same way he had repaired the falcon.

How Lloyd hobbled on one foot and still acted as the motivation for the team as they desperately looked for a way to return to and defend Ninjago, even if there were pain lines around his lips with every deep breath he pulled in.

Kai wasn't sure how he expected to find Lloyd after their retreat, but it wasn't opening the door to his bedroom to find him sitting on the end of his bed, hands pressed against his eyes and elbows pressed against his thighs while his shoulders shook.

"Hey, buddy?" He asked, shutting the door as quietly as possible, "are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, yeah," Lloyd's sudden shift as he stood, only stopping to wipe his face on his sleeve before Kai was met with the all too familiar fake smile that he had grown used to seeing, "I'm fine."

"Are you su-"

"How'd Wyldfyre?"

"Her leg is pretty bad, it's gonna take her awhile to heal," he delivered it as straightforward as he could, but when he saw the familiar look of guilt pass over Lloyd's face, he found himself adding, "but if she takes it easy, she should be back on her feet sooner rather than later."

"Did anyone else get hurt?" He refused to meet his eyes as his green-eyed gaze stayed fixed on the wooden floor.

"Nya and Frohickey are repairing Zane, but considering he was saying real words in real sentences, I'm sure it's not gonna take too long. Sora, Riyu and Arin are all in the clear as well, I checked them over myself."

"Good, good…" Lloyd muttered, running a hand through his hair as he moved to the door, but Kai found himself gently clasping his hand around his wrist to look into the all too tired green eyes.

"Are you hurt?"

"I gotta figure out what we're gonna do next, Euphrasia got captured and I think I need to meditate-"

"But are you hurt?"

Kai should have known that the familiar duck of his head in defeat was coming, but Lloyd's response was laced with tears in a way that made his chest burn with more than the underlying anger he had been feeling since they had been defeated.

"I'm not the one everyone should be worried about right now."

"Hate to break it to you, buddy, but we've been worried about you for weeks."

He had said those exact words before, the last time Lloyd was unable to sleep for more than twenty four hours; there was a time that Kai thought time healed all wounds, but as he was forced to watch Lloyd be haunted by incoherent visions the same way he had been haunted by a ghost, he was starting to think that time just changed the way wounds looked.

Lloyd pulled away from Kai's gentle grip on his wrist before turning around and sitting back down on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket as he spoke, "I'm not hiding it very well, huh?"

"No, you're not," Kai agreed and was met with another sigh, "I think you should let me in on what's going on here, because if it's scaring you this badly…" he trailed off, his mind briefly trailing off to the various villains who had held a vendetta against Lloyd, ones that were arguably worse then Ras even though he had a master of shatterspin on his side.

"It's not Ras that I'm worried about. I've fought worse than Ras, but…" he stopped, his fingers twisting around the blanket, "But in Cloud Kingdom, when he brought out that gong…I have been hearing that noise rattle in my head for weeks and as soon as I heard it, I realized that no matter what I do, I can't stop it. The Blood Moon is coming, Ras has control of Cloud Kingdom and all I did was get Wyldfyre and Zane hurt."

His breath caught in his throat and Kai took a few steps forward before kneeling down on the floor so he and Lloyd were eye to tear-filled eye.

"I know it's nearly impossible to keep you from blaming yourself, especially now that you're taking on so much and with these weird visions, but what happened in Cloud Kingdom was not on you and if we hadn't retreated when we did, things would be a whole lot worse."

"You can thank Nya for that," Lloyd reached up and wiped his face on his sleeve again, "she was the one who told me to retreat."

"I probably should," Kai offered a quick smile before standing, wincing as his knees popped when he did, "ready to tell me how badly you got injured now?"

"It's really not that b-"

"Humor me, Lloyd."

He was met with a sigh before the green fabric covering his left wrist was pulled up to reveal a purply-green mess of bruising.

"It's not broken, I already made sure of that."

"Okay, I'm gonna get you an ice pack," Kai said, patting Lloyd's shoulder a couple times before turning towards the door, "and then you are gonna lay down and do your best to take a nap."

"But the visions-"

"I said "do your best", didn't I?" He watched Lloyd slump in defeat before he reached over and set his hand on his hand back on his shoulder, "I understand that you're scared, but you're wearing thin and if we're gonna stop these guys, we all have to be on our A game."

"I'm really trying."

"I know you are, but you have to get some rest before you break. Okay?"

"Okay."

Lloyd's voice was nothing but a resigned whisper as he maneuvered onto his back and covered his eyes with his right wrist, but as much as he wanted to, Kai couldn't linger on it and settled on running a gentle hand through his hair.

"Be right back with the ice."

The silent thumbs up was his signal to go get the ice and then figure out a way to deal with the anger that was still bubbling up inside of his chest.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #my writing #angst #fic #lloyd garmadon #whump #ninjago kai #dragons rising wyldfyre #dragons rising season 2 #spoilers dragons rising season 2 #nightmares #sleep deprivation #broken bones

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angelltheninth · 7 months

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JJK characters with their s/o crying because they r too rough?

I mean... some are probably into it.

Pairing: Yuuji, Sukuna, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Toji x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, aftercare, crying, hurt/comfort, overstimulation, cunnilingus, teasing, fingering

A/N: I wouldn't be into that I think, I don't like seeing people cry.

YUUJI

Almost starts crying too but decides to be strong for you. He pulls out carefully, crgnging when you wince at his cock moving again. You know he never wanted to hurt you, you know that he's not gonna let himself live this down anytime soon but will also make your comfort and safety his first priority. He doesn't want you to move right now, he'll do all the work, get you come comfort food and maybe a towel to clean yourself up with.

SUKUNA

Is surprised because he was holding back on you. If he went full strength he probably would have done much worse. Sometimes he forgers how fragile you are because there are times where your ferocity can rival his, but you are only human despite that, his favorite human though and he doesn't want to break you. Although he isn't good at comfort he heard that humans kiss on the place where it hurts and it goes away. He promises to be gentle when he goes down on you, and he is, licking and kissing slowly, alert to your gasps.

MEGUMI

Pulls out as soon as he sees that you're crying. Why didn't you tell him it hurts? It also felt good? That's no excuse for you to keep your mouth shut. He can find ways that make you feel good that aren't making you cry from pain. He could make you cry from pleasure though. Right now he doesn't want to think about that, there will be time for it. Right now he will take you in his arms and pull you on top of him, no pressure anywhere on your body, no discomfort of any kind anymore.

GOJO

Didn't realize that he went that much overboard with his teasing and made you too sensitive for his cock. He went at his regular pace which you would have normally been able to handle but it was too much this time. That was his fault, he should have noticed sooner and slowed down. If you want to he's ready to make up for it with a little bit of slow fingering, not even the full finger, just enough to replace that discomfort with pleasure and make you whimper out of satisfaction not pain.

NANAMI

With your permission he would love to make you a bath and carry you there to help you calm down. If you would rather not be touched right now he will respect that as well, but at least let him stay by your side while you bathe. He can tell that you have trouble walking so he offers you his arm as support. With every step he's wiping your tears away and pressing a kiss to your head, conveying how sorry he is for pushing you too far.

GETO

Really thought you could take his cock this hard, but clearly he was wrong. Granted he was behind you the whole time and he wholeheartedly expected you to say if it hurt too much. He' a sadist yes, but he also wants it to ultimately be good for you, not purely painful, there's no fun in that for him. Might be for a short while, to watch you whimper and struggle but he also needs you to feel nice. He can still make that happen, but maybe after a break, after letting you calm down and maybe a little massage.

TOJI

Good thing you're not crying too much because he might get hard again. Seeing you cry is a turn on for him but usually it's when you ask him to make you cry. He's really good at that, apparently too good. There's so much cum coming out of you that he has a difficult time not scooping it up with his fingers and fucking it back into you, not until you stop crying though. He cups your face in his big hands and wipes away the tears, telling you how good you did, next time he'll go just a little slower but hopefully you'll eventually be able to handle him without crying.

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ladysharmaa · 2 months

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My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

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229zmi · 2 months

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MY HEART, IT BEATS FOR YOU

Nagi Seishirō/Reader | 1.0k words, fluff, jealous nagi

Nagi, generally, is an apathetic person.

Yet somehow, there’s a taut feeling that twists its way through the gaps of his ribcage, stretching around his heart as his eyes linger on the fabric that hangs around your shoulders. Seeing you on the couch, casually scrolling on your phone while wearing a jacket he can’t recognise as yours or, even better, his as much as he wants to — the sight elicits something that’s not quite a painful feeling, but it isn’t exactly pleasant either, he thinks.

The wheels are still turning in his head when you finally acknowledge his presence with a smile, oblivious to the way he’s not even looking at you when you tell him, “Hey, Sei.”

Instead, he trudges over to you with the same passion as that of a sloth, and his voice comes out small, almost as if that same feeling in his chest has crawled past his shoulder to constrict his throat.

“That jacket— it’s not yours, is it?” It’s plain and simple, the way he states the observation, yet laced with the most marginal hint of spite.

“No, it’s Reo’s,” you confirm without missing a beat, and he narrows his eyes, so subtly that you don’t even catch it. You continue on about how you bumped into Reo by pure coincidence on your way to run an errand and how the weather’s been so volatile lately, oscillating between warm and sunny one day and freezing cold during the next. But Nagi—

Well—

Here’s the thing: as impassive as he is most of the time, Nagi is a great listener when it comes to you.

You’ve always been a priority to him and even more so in that facet. To relish in the fleeting moments of winning a game on his phone, or to know what happens in the latest chapter of his favourite manga as soon as possible — the rush of satisfaction he gets out of those is nice, he supposes, but not worth missing a word of what you say, be it something miscellaneous about your day or the biggest news he’s ever heard in his life.

And certainly, nothing is worth missing the small habits that make themselves known in your conversation, that make up the you he first swore love to near the bench outside the convenience store, holding your favourite snack in one hand and offering his jacket to you with his other because the harshness of springtime winds had swept away any warmth your flimsy sweater could contain.

It’s your facial expressions, your gestures, the way you look toward him at the end of each rambling, as if to ask, Are you listening? So then, he’ll answer— a nod, as if to say, Yes. Of course. Please say more. Because for you, it’s all ears and eyes wide open on his end.

But Nagi, admittedly, isn’t perfect, and this is not a matter of opinion. Even you can see the way he can’t stop staring hard at your jacket as though he’s trying to telepathically morph it into something that looks like it came from his closet instead.

Midway through an elaborate plan to sell the jacket for an outrageously high price on some sketchy website (you’re only half-joking… maybe), you finally notice his distant expression. “…Sei?”

His lack of response is all the confirmation you need for your suspicions. A grin then crosses your face, while your eyes sport a gleam that Nagi recognises as smugness once he eventually tears his focus away from the offending item of clothing.

You say his name again, this time teasingly. Then, “Are you jeal—?”

Your question cuts off unceremoniously when his hands reach over to latch onto the zipper of the jacket, pulling it down before tugging on the fabric near your shoulders. Despite the boldness of his actions, you don’t make any move to stop him as he flings Reo’s jacket across the room, hearing it land on the floor with a satisfying sound.

Moments later, he shrugs his jacket off in one smooth motion and then drapes it over your body. With his large palms smoothing over the fabric against your upper arms, it’s such a sweet gesture that you can’t find it in yourself to complain, although the opportunity to poke fun at him is hard to let slip.

“Woah, there.” Cheekily, you brush that one abnormally long part of his bangs away from his face and poke the tip of his nose, to which he responds with his signature pout before burying his face into the crook of your neck. As your back hits the cushion of the arm rest behind you and your hands come up to comb through his hair, you feel a bout of warmth surge through your collarbone area, accompanied by the sound of his voice muffled by your skin.

“I’m not jealous.”

A smile dances around the corners of your mouth despite your efforts to conceal it. “Really?” you say. “I think you are.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles. “You can’t prove it.”

“I mean. You’re kinda all over me right now.”

He huffs at the flurry of giggles that tumble from your mouth boundlessly, like clothes spilling out of an overpacked suitcase. Though, when your laughter finally simmers down and humour seems to have come to a standstill in your conversation, sentimentality weaves its way into your voice, in between mixed undertones of reassurance and leftover amusement.

(Because what you’re about to say is nothing but the truth itself: ardent and vulnerable, despite the sheer casualness in the way you present it.)

“You’re the only one my heart beats for, Seishirō.”

Lazily, he peers up at you. “Promise?”

“I promise. Besides,” you add, snuggling deeper into the collar of his jacket, “your jacket’s way warmer, anyway.”

That could be attributed to the fact that he has practically become your personal heater by sprawling his body over yours on the couch. Nevertheless, the envious fangs surrounding Nagi’s heart slacken, and with your fingers brushing through his hair once again, he can’t help himself from murmuring into your skin, sounding more relieved than he has ever sounded, “Good.”

#nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #229ZMI

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peacelovepandora · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Here

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

sorry to put some of you through this. ik we're all gonna have war flashbacks to the film with this, but some of you wanted this so here it is.

btw I listened to The Songcord and cried while writing this. if you want a good cry, listen to it while reading lol

TW : bleeding, death

Initially, you hadn't felt the injury. Your only priority was to successfully jump over the railing and follow your brother into the sea. With one hand gripping the railing, you hoisted yourself up, using your limberness to your advantage, before kicking your legs over. Once your upper body followed, you released your grip and allowed yourself to plummet towards the water. Within the time that you fell, you crossed your arms over your chest before straightening your legs and squeezing them together. The position, which was modeled to resemble a spearhead, was meant to help you reach the water faster.

Your pointed feet were the first to spear through the water's surface. Soon after, the rest of your body followed. As the crisp water rose above your head, the cold temperature sent an electrifying shock through your body. However, that shock was quickly replaced with a massive wave of relief.

I made it! you thought to yourself.

Looking up, you saw your eldest brother, Neteyam, break through the water's surface. Like you, he sunk underneath the surface, but not as deeply. After stretching your arms above your head, you lowered them forcefully before kicking your legs, giving yourself the momentum to swim to the surface. Once you'd finally broken through the water, you inhaled deeply--opening your mouth and blinking your eyes rapidly.

"There she is!" Spider exclaimed.

"Good you finally joined us, baby sister!" Neteyam teased, making you turn to him, "You had us worried there for a moment!"

"Well, I actually dived in with the correct positioning to go deeper, big brother!" you teased back, swimming closer to him, "You just cannonballed in like a child."

"Hard to make those quick decisions when you're getting shot at," he replied with a smirk before placing a hand on your head, "but I admire your quick thinking."

"Hello? Are we gonna get out of here or not?" Lo'ak stressed, raising his hands in exasperation, "In case you can't tell, we're not out of here, yet."

Neteyam nodded. "You're right. Let's go find Dad."

You smiled, preparing to swim alongside your brothers when a sharp burning sensation pierced through the middle of your chest. The searing sensation came suddenly, and its intensity increased immediately. This ache, this red hot fire--which had initially been burning your chest--began to move through you before igniting a prickling pain in your back.

Releasing a gasp, you looked down at your chest, hoping that it was a simple fluke. However, after you lowered your gaze to your skin, ice ran through your veins.

It was unmistakeable. Even if you'd tried to convince yourself that your eyes were playing tricks on you, the red liquid that was seeping into the water proved otherwise.

The shock of the sight produced a domino effect, and it quickly impaired your entire body. Treading water, something you'd been doing so mindlessly before, suddenly became a challenge. The air, which you had been effortlessly breathing into your lungs, became much harder to consume. Everything seemed to come to a standstill as you stared at the red river, which started just below your collarbone, emptying into the blue sea. When the redness reached the blueness, it spread out, refusing to dissolve and disappear. It remained constant as it made its way around your body, sealing your fate.

"Y/N?" Lo'ak called, turning around when he noticed your lack of movement.

Upon hearing Lo'ak's call, Neteyam turned around, as well. Since he was the closest to you, he was the first to begin swimming back to you. As he grew closer, his gaze grew uneasy as he took in your expression.

"Baby sister, what's wrong?" he asked, reaching you before placing a hand on your shoulder, "Come on, we must go."

Your eyes, which had temporarily locked with his, dropped back down to your chest. This time, he followed your gaze. When alarm overtook his expression, you knew that you weren't hallucinating things.

"Oh no," he breathed, "Shit! Lo'ak! You skxawng! Get over here now! Spider, you too!"

The world was moving at a slower pace than usual. At least, that's how it looked to you. The slow movement of Neteyam wrapping an arm around your waist before pressing his palm against your wound. Lo'ak and Spider splashing through the water, swimming back to you with frantic eyes.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" Lo'ak shouted, closing the distance between all of you.

However, he answered his own question by looking at Neteyam's hand on your chest, and the red liquid seeping through his fingers.

"She's hit!" Neteyam stressed, "We have to go now!"

Lo'ak cupped your head before turning away and clicking his tongue. Spider replaced his hand on your head while Lo'ak set up his ilu, preparing to lift you onto its back. Your gaze grew blank as your panic reflex wore off and it manifested into a weighted acceptance.

"Baby sister!" your brother's voice called, "Baby sister!"

Neteyam's face grew in and out of focus. Processing your surroundings, you realized that you were laying across his lap. Spider and Lo'ak were holding on to the front ends of the ilu, and you were moving through the water.

A hand was placed on your cheek, forcing you to turn your head.

"Look at me!" your brother's voice demanded, "You're going to be alright!"

An instinct within you wanted to nod, but your body resisted, deeming that as too difficult of a task. Instead, you released an incoherent moan.

Leaning your head back, you let your eyes focus on the eclipsing sun. It would be dark soon. As you processed the darkening sky, your mind wandered to home. The forest, which lived and breathed on its own, always seemed to reach its climax at eclipse. The swaying tendrils of the tree of souls glowed with an unprecedented luminescence. Fan lizards and seed spirits delicately danced through the sky, never passing by without briefly landing on your skin. Their gentle touch filled you with an all-embracing aura.

"Dad! It's Y/N! She's hurt!"

You were jolted out of your vision as you felt yourself being moved again. With drooping eyelids, you tried to fight the increasing fatigue that was overwhelming your body.

"Watch her head, bro! Watch her head!"

The echoing voices grew clearer as you forced your eyes open. A large body hopped over your head before settling itself by your right side. The body reached out, gripping your shoulders before gently tipping your body and rolling you on your side.

"Oh no," the body breathed.

As you were rolled back onto your back, your brain processed the voice you'd just heard. When a large hand cupped your cheek, your vision finally cleared. Yellow eyes, tormented by grief, looked back at you. Those familiar yellow eyes, slightly smaller than other members of your family's, caused relief to wash over your body.

"D-Daddy?" you choked out, cutting yourself off with a fit of coughs.

You were shushed as the comforting yellow gaze glossed over.

Tilting his head, Jake's voice cracked as he responded. "It's me, babygirl." His hand moved beneath your head, cupping the back of your neck. "Don't worry. I got you, I got you."

Neteyam, who was sitting on your left side, close to your head, had never lifted his hand from the wound on your chest. His pressure was consistent, but you felt the fatigue growing stronger as a foreign force pulled at your mind.

A large shadow flew over your body before landing on your left side.

"No, no no, no, no!"

That was your mother's voice. Within a few seconds, she appeared next to Neteyam, eyeing you with wide eyes.

Your breathing grew shallow as you struggled to tilt your head up, making sure that Lo'ak and Spider had made it alright. Both boys were on Neytiri's opposite side, maintaining quivering grasps on your legs.

"Lay back, baby, it's okay," your father's trembling voice spoke, bringing your attention back to him, "We're all here."

Gasping for breaths, you gripped your father's wrist that was closest to your face. "Daddy, I-I . . . I'm scared," you wheezed, "I wanna go home."

He nodded, using his free hand to grip your hand. "I-I know, baby. I know," he soothed shakily, "We're going home. We're going home."

The fatigue was immense. Panic was returning, but its intensity was far less than its original state. Your organs panicked as they fought a cyclical battle. Your body wanted to take in air, but the action of breathing was too taxing, which caused it to weaken further. As it weakened, it begged for more air, but the cycle repeated itself.

The longer Jake watched you, the more he understood the internal battle you were facing. As he locked his eyes with your exhausted, panicked gaze, the weight of the situation dawned on him. Forcing a thick swallow down his throat, he promised himself to make sure that your departure was peaceful.

"Look at me, baby," Jake rasped, gently coaxing your head to turn towards him.

As you eyes locked, he cupped your neck again. "It's okay. I got you," he whispered, becoming choked up as he raised your knuckles to his lips and shook his head, "You don't need to be scared."

His words were like a warm blanket, engulfing you as your consciousness grew weary.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered, "Daddy's here."

Following those last two words, your hearing was no longer coherent. Your gaze shifted above Jake's head, watching as the eclipsed sun seemed to grow closer to you. Distant voices echoed, but you could only make out a few words.

"Oh, Great Mother! No, Great Mother! Please!"

Your brain could no longer comprehend the meaning of those words, or any words. The distant sound of wails grew fainter as the pain in your chest faded.

A white light overtook your vision, and the feeling of a welcoming embrace consumed you.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxi@egirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus

#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully daughter #protective Jake sully #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #avatar way of water #avatar 2009

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ode2rin · 10 months

Text

MAKE YOU MINE .ೃ

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. best friends to lovers | pining | light angst to fluff

in which: rin was never ready, so he watches you go with your boyfriend, wishfully thinking it was him instead.

💭 thank you for the request @/saetorinrin (unaffectionate)!

best friends are supposed to knock some sense into you, that's what they're for.

fortunately for you, your best friend of twelve years, itoshi rin, has always been quite good at it. right now, you're hoping he'll at least be kind while doing so.

“i don't know why you keep on going back to him. he looks like a fucking bull reincarnate, and he treats you like what? yeah, like a pup he dogs around.”

that’s wishful thinking, though. none of rin's words are known for their kindness.

you've known since a tender age of ten that both itoshi brothers have a knack for colorful insults — or rather, they insist it's a form of descriptive artistry. moments like these make you wish you could smack your younger self for befriending your teal-eyed neighbors. you really should have avoided them like the plague from the very first glare they shot your way.

if you did, you wouldn't find yourself sitting on a swing in the park near both of your houses, while rin spends the past few minutes expressing his displeasure about you getting back with your ex.

but what’s done is done. growing up with them wasn't all bad, except for that messy fiasco between sae and rin that left you caught in the middle, trying to mend their broken bond.

in the end, you chose rin’s side. for what reason? that's a reminiscence best saved for another day.

right now, your priority lies in letting rin hear a piece of your mind for his way of describing your ex — or boyfriend? actually, you're not sure anymore.

“you’re being mean, rin.”

“and you’re being stupid, y/n.”

“you won’t get it.”

“won’t get what? that you’re being treated like absolute shit?”

that’s it. he pushed enough buttons now. you stood up from the swing to face the 6-foot tall man in front of you.

“you won't get it because you’ve never loved anyone before! and you sure as hell have never been fucking loved!”

rin, before this moment, was sure he's accustomed to pain.

but now, he realized he wasn't.

realizing what you've just said to your best friend, your eyes widen, and you immediately reach out to touch his arm, frustration turning into regret. you didn't mean that — god, you really didn't.

“rin, i... i didn't mean—”

“save it.”

you were right about the latter. but the former? rin wants nothing but to let you know otherwise. if only you goddamn knew. but that's just it for rin too — wishful thinking.

because you're not done loving your boyfriend, and he knows he's merely using that as an excuse. if honesty were to intervene, he wouldn't be ready to let you know.

how many years does one need to be ready to confess to their best friend of more than a decade anyway? he doesn't want to find out.

rin heard your whispered apology, and his heart sank. he watched as you lowered your gaze to the grass beneath your feet, the weight of regret palpable in the air.

“come on, it’s getting dark. let’s go home,” he suggested, voice tinged with concern.

“actually, he’s picking me up here. mom knows already.”

of course. of course, he's picking you up blocks away from your house. is that how things work now? if it were up to rin, he'd personally ask your mom to take you out on a monday evening. you know, like a respectful person would do?

yet again. if it was him. another wishful thinking.

“where the hell is he, then? i am not leaving you here,” rin stated, his frustration once again seeping through his words.

“he's just a little late —”

“or ditching you again?”

“rin, please. just leave. i don't want to start again,” you pleaded, the exhaustion evident in your voice.

“fine.”

every step rin took away from you felt like chains dragging along, pulling him back with reluctance and impending regret. but he knew he had to leave.

he didn't have a place to stay here, not in this park, and certainly not in your heart.

it had been a week since you got back together with your ex, and in that time, rin hadn't uttered a single word to you. his silence was a constant presence, weighing heavily on the air between you. in the past, you found solace in his silence, finding comfort in the unspoken understanding that existed between you. but now, it felt suffocating, as if every attempt to say his name would only add to the tension.

you didn't blame rin for giving you the silent treatment. after all, the hurtful words you had spoken had cut deep.

rin had been harsh, yes, but you knew it came from a place of concern. he was your best friend, and looking out for each other was what you do. deep down, you couldn't deny that there was some truth in what he had said about your boyfriend. there had been moments when he treated you poorly, but that was normal, right? every relationship had its ups and downs, and this was just one of them. and perhaps, in rin's eyes, you were being stupid, but when weren't you, in his opinion?

still, you should have known better. you shouldn't have said what you did. not when you know yourself that he’s been loved. even if it was hidden and unspoken, it still counted, didn't it?

but despite the silent treatment, rin never failed to walk you home. even when he was wearing his sweaty jersey after a rigorous practice, he would be there outside your classroom, waiting for you. walking behind you, not saying a word, but his presence was felt. occasionally, he would walk beside you, especially when you were about to reach the busy side of the neighborhood.

every single day of the past week, he had walked you home.

and even back then starting from the days of school, rin never lets you walk alone in the dark.

today, however, you had to tell him that you wouldn't be walking with him. you had a date with your boyfriend, and he was waiting for you outside the school.

grabbing your bag and heading towards the door, you caught a glimpse of rin's duffel bag and his back. he was waiting for you again. rushing over to him, you spoke up.

“rin, i won’t be able to walk with you today. we’re going out. he’s waiting for me outside.”

rin simply looked at you, then nodded. he turned his back to you, but you could swear there was something he wanted to say.

that was the thing with itoshi rin. he never spoke when you needed him to.

rin was right. he had always been right. and you, well, you were just fucking stupid.

as you reminisced about the earlier screaming match with your now ex-boyfriend, tears threatened to well up in your eyes.

i’m such a fucking idiot.

you had known deep down that you had settled, but you never expected him to stoop so low. part of you wanted to say good riddance, but the truth was that time spent with a person would always leave a mark, whether you wanted it or not.

it was past 9 pm, and that prick had the audacity to drop you four blocks away from your own house. you wanted to scream at him, to demand basic human decency, to drop you off at your doorstep. but another part of you, fueled by the remnants of pride, refused to beg for the bare minimum again. so, despite your nervousness about walking alone in the dark, you slammed the car door in his face and decided to walk the rest of the way on your own.

it had only been five minutes of walking when you felt the first raindrops fall on your forehead. the realization of what was about to happen made you want to scream at whoever was watching from above. how dare they make you this unlucky?

great. just great.

the drizzle quickly escalated into a full-blown rain, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. a few blocks ahead, you spotted the park where you and rin used to hang out.

even in your darkest times, he’s still in your mind. it’s funny as it is ironic.

if only you had stayed content with loving your best friend from afar, maybe you wouldn't be feeling this hurt, right?

maybe you wouldn't have ended up looking for love in all the wrong places when the only place you truly wanted it to blossom had been right beside you all along.

exactly ten minutes before rin’s usual bedtime, his phone rang, your name shown on the screen. and for some reason, he could feel his heart leap out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

something was wrong.

without wasting a second, rin answered your call on the second ring.

“hello?” he said, anticipation heavy on his heart. he needed to hear your voice.

but anticipation was immediately replaced by seething anger and heightened worry as he heard your sniffs on the other end of the line.

“where are you?”

“rin... i know you're mad at me, but i didn't know who else to call–”

“it's raining. where the hell are you?” rin's voice grew heavy with indescribable anger, each word dripping with his overwhelming emotions.

“he dropped me off near the school, but i'm here by the park now. i–”

"stay where you are. i'm coming. don't end the call. i need to know you're safe." or else i will fucking lose it.

it’s these times that rin was glad he’s an athlete. within five minutes, he arrived at the park, his strides quick and determined. he would have reached you even faster if it weren't for the umbrella he was holding and the sound of your sniffs and sobs on the other end of the line, causing his heart to sink and his steps to falter.

he doesn't even let a goddamn mosquito come close to you, but that asshole had the audacity to make you cry? how dare he.

the rain had lessened compared to its earlier downpour, it was now more of a drizzle. but if you had been here before calling him, that meant you had been standing under the rain for almost an hour. with that realization, rin thinks your ex should watch his back from now on; he would never know when a ball might come flying straight at him — accidentally, of course.

as rin reached the park, his eyes scanned the area, searching desperately for you. and there, in one of the benches, he saw you. your head was tucked into your knees, one hand hugging them tightly while the other clutched the phone to your ear.

he swore, he fucking swore, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of you.

ever since you entered rin's life, you taught him a lot of things. you taught him everything about how life was better when you had someone to lean on.

but most of all, everything rin knew about love, he knew from you.

and when he realized he loved you but couldn't let you know, the love he knew became intertwined with all the pain he learned.

this is hurting him. you, you were hurting him.

maybe you were right all along.

“you're right, y/n,” rin whispered into the phone, his voice barely audible as he stood a few feet away from you, the umbrella slipping from his grasp. he still had his phone pressed to his ear.

rin couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his own heartbeat and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the ground.

how many damn years does it take to work up the courage to spill your guts to your best friend of more than a decade? rin found out that sometimes, all it takes is one look at them in pain to make you throw caution to the wind. screw all the timing and planning.

“rin…” you called out, looking around to locate him.

locked in a gaze, time seemed to stand still as rin's eyes traced the contours of your face. your eyes, red-rimmed and soaked from the rain, revealed what you had endured. your drenched clothes and disheveled hair painted a picture of you running around in this rain. he couldn't help but think that you looked like a wounded soul, stripped of your own heart.

“you're right,” he repeated once more, and he was certain you could hear him, judging by the look of confusion on your face.

it wasn't a “now or never” moment for rin.

it was a now or never love another soul ever again moment. because to rin, it will always be you and him in the end. and that’s no wishful thinking, but a promise he made to himself.

there will be no after you, but just you. that was it for itoshi rin.

so he has to let you know. the hell with what happens next.

“about last week, you’re right about that. i would never get it,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “i would never get how someone could ever treat you this bad by someone who claims to love you. because i have loved you since we were kids, and i would rather die than leave you out here alone in the pouring rain.”

if this was what you called love, then maybe you taught him wrong.

rin could see how your eyes widened at what he said. and right then and there, he prepared himself for the worst.

it’s happening.

rin ended the call. he couldn't bear to hear your immediate response, fearing the rejection he had long braced himself for. with the umbrella in hand, he made his way towards you, his eyes focused on the wet ground, avoiding direct contact with your gaze.

you can reject him later. he needs to get you home first.

“come on, let’s go,” was the only thing rin said. he placed the umbrella over your head, shielding you from the rain while he stood exposed, allowing the droplets to soak him further.

you gazed up at him, seeking his eyes, “can you look at me, rin?”

and see the look of pity in your eyes? even at these moments, you’re cruel to him.

“i don’t want to.”

undeterred, you persisted, “why?”

because i’m about to lose you.

“i made peace with it a long time ago,” rin admitted, “let's just go. you're going to get sick.”

“say it again.”

your gaze held unwavering, demanding more from him. there was a longing in your eyes, a hunger for honesty. you craved his words, his confession – you need rin to speak now or else you will never know peace.

“no.”

“then i’m not going anywhere. say it agai —”

“fine! i have loved you since we were kids and i have loved you ever since i'm yet to even know what it was i was feeling for you! now, please, let’s go!”

silence enveloped the park. but rin could hear his own heart beating in rhythm with the soft pitt patts of the rain.

this was it then? twelve damn years. all those years, now dissipating like raindrops lost in the drain.

the rain continued to pour, serving as a backdrop to the delicate dance of emotions unfolding between you. each droplet seemed to echo the passage of time, washing away the years of looking at you in a lovelorn gaze.

rin knew where this was headed. he may not have watched many romance movies, but confessions like these – he had seen them before. this was yet another addition to the countless stories of shattered dreams lost to the rain.

but then as fate would have it, it will always intervene.

and so, as if a radiant sun had broken through the stormy clouds, a smile bloomed on your face, casting away the shadows of doubt in rin's mind.

“i’ve been waiting for those words my whole life, itoshi rin.”

rainbows really do appear after the pouring rain.

but only for a fleeting grace of moment in the sky.

“but i can’t, rin. not now. i’m too hurt to love you freely.”

the confession escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of past heartbreak and lingering pain. and to rin, it felt as if the rainbows had faded, leaving behind a somber reminder of the scars etched deep within.

it would be a lie not to admit that he was disheartened, but nonetheless, rin understood.

but rin was no saint; he can be selfish. he wants to be selfish for you. so there he knelt, bringing himself eye to eye with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks.

“i’ll wait. i can wait,” it’s not a lie that the younger itoshi had a penchant for being selfish as he is selfless.

but he has waited for you for as long as he has learned to kick a ball. so what's a little more?

“are you sure?” the question escaped your lips, a plea for reassurance.

if it means it’s you and him in the end after all, then he’s nothing but definite.

rin's hands on your cheeks tightened gently, his voice a gentle murmur that danced along the edges of your heart, “take all the time you need. by the time you're done, i'll make sure to make you mine.”

the raindrops, cascading around you like tears from the heavens, seemed to pause in reverence as rin's words hung in the air.

as the rain began to subside, rin leaned closer, his forehead gently pressing against yours. your eyes closed, feeling his breath mingling with yours, you hear him softly sighed against your lips.

“i’ll treat you so good, y/n. so good. fuck, you have no idea.”

sure, you’re the first person itoshi rin has ever loved. but he can show you. better than your shitty ex ever could.

if there’s anyone who can most definitely show you what love was truly like, it will be him.

for a few precious moments, time seemed to stand still as both of you remained in that intimate embrace, rin's hands tenderly cradling your face, and your gaze locked in the depths of his teal eyes.

“let’s go home?” rin asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“only if you’ll walk with me.”

rin's lips curled into a small, affectionate smile at your hushed response. he reached out, extending his hand toward you, a silent invitation. “i've been doing that for the past years.”

and he’ll continue to do it.

few years from now, he will make sure he’s the man you’re walking with. be that on the way home, or down the aisle.

because to itoshi rin, it will always be you and him.

note. no thoughts, just pure vibes here. just kidding! here's the first request in my milestone event, and i enjoyed writing this despite it being shitty as an outcome. thanks for reaching this far!

💭 back to: milestone event

#☁️ my ode to you #first milestone event!#writing: 001 #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

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edenesth · 4 months

Text

The Key Keeper

Pairing: royal guard!Mingi x keykeeper!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Mingi, you're injured!"

Your eyes widened in horror as the head of the royal guard shielded you from an oncoming arrow, taking the hit in his back. Gritting his teeth, he reassured, "I'm fine. You go first; I'll catch up with you soon."

Panicked tears welling up, you shook your head and protested, "No, how can I leave you behind?!"

He softened at the sight of your tears, realising that your distress hurt him more than the arrow in his back. To assure you, he smirked teasingly, "What's this? Are you worried about me? I thought you hated me."

Clenching your fists, you resisted the urge to hit him, "Stop, this isn't funny! We need to get out of here together!"

Against his better judgement, he cupped your face and pressed his forehead against yours, "Listen to me, you're the royal key keeper, and these keys should be your top priority. Protect them with your life, and I'll protect you with mine," His heart ached as he saw your teary eyes tremble, "I promise I'll be there with you before you know it. Now go."

Left with no choice, you clutched the palace keys tightly and ran as you were told. Your heart broke as you threw one final, painful glance back at Mingi to see him forcing himself back onto his feet.

Everything happened so quickly. Just moments ago, he had approached you at your workstation, clad in full armour.

"Why are you here, Song Mingi? Don't you have better things to guard?" He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, "In case you missed the memo, word got out that the pirates are heading for the King's blade."

Your eyes widened at the revelation, "The King's blade? Are they out of their goddamned minds? How ambitious can these fools get?"

He sighed, "As much as I agree with you, we don't have time for idle chatter. We need to secure the blade and move it to a safer location. On your feet now, keykeeper."

Shaking your head in disbelief, you hurriedly gathered all the keys that held access to every corner of the palace, following him as you both navigated a secret passageway leading to the King's treasury.

Just for now, you had to set aside your disdain for Mingi. Despite being longtime rivals in your respective roles – him holding the highest position among male palace staff and you, his female counterpart – the urgency of the situation demanded cooperation. While he focused on the palace's security, your responsibility lay in safeguarding all the keys.

You did your best to remain civil, but his incessant commands were testing you, "Could you move a bit more quietly? It's almost as if you're trying to tell the whole world where we are." He hissed, shooting a frustrated glare in your direction.

Suppressing the urge to retaliate physically, you scoffed, well aware that engaging in a physical confrontation would be futile given his status as the strongest guard in the entire palace, "If my presence is such a burden, why not assign someone else to guard me? You could be safeguarding the King himself, but no, here you are..."

He halted suddenly, causing you to collide into his back with a yelp, "Hey! Why'd you—" Your words were cut short as he turned around, casting you an intimidating gaze, "Wishing the general was here with you, huh? Dream on; he's happily married."

Your jaw hung open at his victorious smirk as he continued on his way. Battling the surge of embarrassment, you reminded yourself that your crush on the renowned general was merely a passing infatuation. After all, he was currently deployed in the war zone, accompanied by his devoted wife.

How dare Mingi bring up that old crush? It was just innocent admiration, and you certainly weren't the only one captivated by the formidable military leader.

Before you could reprimand him for his unprofessionalism, the unexpected attack unfolded. It all happened in the blink of an eye; the only memory etched in your mind was him swiftly wrapping a protective arm around you, turning you away just as he jolted from the impact of an arrow piercing his back.

Now, tears streaming down your face, you fought the urge to run back to him. The sight of him being hurt affected you more than you had anticipated. You never knew you would ever be capable of feeling this way for him, considering how you were constantly at each other's throats for as long as you could remember.

He always found a way to get on your nerves, and you couldn't stand the sight of him. So, it bewildered you why your chest now throbbed with worry for him. Perhaps, in the face of his sacrifice, you realised that there was more to your daily banter than met the eye.

If only you knew how much jealousy flowed through the royal guard's veins whenever he thought about your stupid crush on the general, how much he enjoyed watching the fire in your eyes during your endless silly exchanges, and how much it scared him to think about the danger you were in when he found out about the pirates.

Yes, he could have assigned someone else to protect you, but he didn't trust anyone to keep you safe. The mere thought of anything bad happening to you before you were aware of his affection haunted him. He couldn't fathom forgiving himself for such a failure.

When he saw the genuine concern you displayed for him, a glimmer of hope kindled within him. Perhaps, hidden beneath the surface, you felt the same.

Before reaching you, Mingi made sure to eliminate every single trespasser; he would die before allowing any of these imbeciles near you. A sigh of relief escaped him as he recognised that these were merely amateur pirates; the situation might have taken a perilous turn if the notorious pirate king had been involved. Fortunately, the captain wasn't foolish enough to attempt robbing royalty.

"Hey, it's safe now. You're safe."

Springing up from your crouched position, you dropped the keys in your hands without a second thought, rushing to throw your arms around the royal guard's neck as soon as he entered the treasury. He held you close and wondered if you could sense the rapid beating of his heart.

You sobbed miserably against his shoulder, "You idiot, you could've died out there!"

He chuckled, feeling his heart melt at your worry, "Why? Would you miss me if I was gone?" The question left you momentarily silent, prompting you to pull away slightly and face him.

"I..." You blinked rapidly, attempting to change the topic, "H-how's your injury?"

Dismissing your concern, he shook his head, holding you firmly when you tried to check his back, "I told you I'm fine; my armour shielded me. I'm not hit directly."

"But still—"

Cupping your face with both hands, he made you look at him, "Stop pushing me away! I'm in love with you, okay?" Your movements stilled, and he reached to wipe away the tears you shed for him.

Frowning, you protested, "That's a lie... if you were, why'd you annoy me all the time?"

He broke into a smile, "I thought it'd be the only way to get your attention."

You scoffed, "Well, that's just stupid."

He grinned, retorting, "But it worked, didn't it? You can't fool me; I know you care about me too."

Left speechless, you felt your heart race when he leaned closer. Your breath hitched as your noses touched, and he whispered, "I was afraid of losing you."

You nodded in defeat, finally admitting, "Me too, Mingi. Me too."

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, he finally kissed you, just as he had wanted to for so long.

While you were engulfed in each other's embrace, some of the royal guards arrived just in time to catch both of you in a flustered state, grinning knowingly. Unbeknownst to you, the entire palace staff had been placing bets on the two of you all along. It appeared that everyone would have a lot to celebrate soon.

✨ Bonus ✨

"You know, you may be the keeper of all palace keys, but I'm the only one with the key to your heart."

"Oh, shut up, Mingi."

Aaaand that's a wrap! Hope the final part's decent! Also, damn, Mingi's been wrecking me lately like what the actual frick. Man definitely knows what he's doing to us.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading every part of this series! Do let me know which member's part is your favourite! Don't be shy, I'd love to hear all about it!🤭

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x you #mingi x reader #ateez fic #mingi drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #mingi imagines

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straykeedz · 5 months

Note

felix the typa guy to hug you tight, get teary eyed and whimper so cutely when he's about to cum.

type of guy to hug again and say things like "it's okay" "let it all out" "pretty girl" and stroke your hair when you're about to cum.

type of guy who feels guilty easily if you feel the slightest bit of difficulty walking the next day.

"I'm sorry baby I didn't mean to hurt you:(" aww.

kind of guy who sometimes gets shy midway and hides his face in the crook of your neck or cover your eyes. "don't look pleease" "i feel so shy" bro we fucked so many times already?

gets even more turned on when you slide your hand down to grip his balls and coo him to let it all out when he's about to release inside you..

sometimes even gets SO turned on that his ears and cheeks get visibly red.. almost like he has a fever. even his chest area turns a pinkish tone. cute! he cannot hide it even if he wants to, his face says it all :(

his priority is to make it as intimate as possible and make you comfortable.

he's a sweetheart like that.

-🍓

this was 😵‍💫 thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me, 🍓. ❤️‍🩹🫂

oh, my sweet boy felix 🥺

he’s a a sweetheart indeed… lets out the softest sounds in bed because he gets so shy, but he can’t hide the way you’re making him feel so good every time. how do you do that? hides his face in the crook of your neck as he cums - you think it’s because he’s embarrassed to be seen in such a vulnerable state, but it’s actually because he needs to feel you even closer, he needs to breathe in your scent until it makes him dizzy. grips you tighter as he releases, and his orgasms with you are always so intense that every time he thinks he’s about to pass out.

and oh, he’s the sweetest when you’re about to cum… gaze on your face to not miss a single reaction from you, he wants to see every single face you make. he praises you so much, whispering sweet words in your ear as he focuses on your pleasure only. “you’re gonna cum for me, love?” “you’re so beautiful, my sweet angel” “cum for me, love, let go. i’m right here, you’re safe”. he’s so giving in bed he’ll probably make you cum a couple of times every time you have sex. it’ll nearly send him over the edge if he sees you roll your eyes in the back of your head as you’re releasing around him, and he forces himself to shut up so that he can hear the sweet sounds that fall from your lips.

aftercare is also a must with him, and he’ll feel so guilty if he sees you wince in pain after you’re done having sex 🥺 asks you a million questions like “was i too rough? did i go too hard?” “why didn’t you stop me, love?” “does it hurt that bad?” or probably feels guilty to the point he says things such as “ah, i knew i should’ve been more careful”. no matter how many times you tell him that you’re fine, that he didn’t hurt you and that you’re just a little bit sore because the sex was just so good, he’ll feel guilty nonetheless and spends the rest of the time smothering you with kisses and cuddles and even runs you a warm bath.

oh you’re right 🍓anon, he gets so shy sometimes 🥺 it mainly happens when he’s too much inside his head, wondering if he’s enough for you or if you still find him attractive. to you, it sounds completely absurd when he tells you, but at the same time you know that insecurities are a bitch. so you come up with a plan - show him how perfect he is, and how incredibly hot you find him. of course he gets shy and whiny at first, but then starts relaxing under your touch, and believes every word that comes out of your mouth. “how could you think i don’t find you absolutely perfect, hm?” poor boy gets so red in the face 🤧 “these arms? absolutely perfect. they hug me perfectly, and so tight when you make love to me.” “your body? stunning. every time i see you changing i have to wipe the drool off my face.” “your cock? perfect. the perfect size for me, reaches all the sweet spots and makes me cum so hard every time.” “oh, and don’t even get me started on your cute face!” the best part is that you mean every single word.

and oh - if you touch his balls… he’s cumming on the spot, there’s no way he can put off his orgasm. it’s his most erogenous zone. his balls are just so sensitive, there’s no way he can stop himself from shooting his load once you touch him there. he doesn’t tell you about it. you find out one day, when you’re giving him the most intense blowjob of his life. you cup his balls as you go down on him and before he can warn you, he’s releasing in your mouth, letting out le loudest sounds you’ve heard from him as his fingers grip the bedsheets. of course he gets embarrassed about it, tip of his ears turning of a bright red shade. you actually think it’s hot, though. so, whenever you want him to just lose control and let go, or whenever you find yourselves in a particularly heated session, you just let your hand travel all the way to his balls. you cup them, massaging them lightly and extremely delicately as you whisper in his ear things such as “mhh, be a good boy, felix, let go for me” or “give it to me, all of it, fill me up”.

intimacy is the keyword in your relationship with felix, both inside and outside the bedroom. but especially in the bedroom he needs to feel you close, to get lost in the feeling of your bodies intertwined, of the scent of your skin, the taste of your lips. he needs to feel close to you to the point it almost feels like your bodies are melting and fusing together. it’ll leave you breathless, dizzy, your body will feel as light as a feather once you’re done - and he’ll be there, by your side, taking care of you, because you’re his priority.

i need… i need to go outside and touch some grass… but thank you once more for sharing your thoughts with us, 🍓🩷

#📨: 🍓 anon #lee felix hard thoughts #lee felix hard hours #felix smut #felix hard thoughts #felix hard hours #lee felix smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #felix drabble #felix x reader smut #felix x you

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peachypinkygloss · 9 months

Note

Hi! congrats on 2k followers ♡ The trope would be Idol!Namjoon x non Idol!reader, and actually just something smut & fluff is okay, like in a new relationship, please.

Thank u ^^

(I'm not a minor dw)

thank you for your support, lovely ): 🤍 means so much to me x love u, mwah 💋 xox

sweaty and steamy

Namjoon is very busy with work so you decide to visit him at his studio. You both end up sweaty and steamy.

pairing: idol/bf!namjoon x non-idol!reader

genre: established relationship, idol au, smut, fluff

warnings: namjoon's the best bf obvi, unprotected sex, studio sex 👀, praising, clit stimulation, a little under 1k.

a.n.: the first thing that came to my mind was studio sex... i mean, can you really blame me? 🥺

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

Namjoon is a very busy person. Not surprising considering the job he has, but sometimes he really dedicates his whole day to his music. It's not a bad thing, he's always productive and hardworking, all of that amplified because he's genuinely passionate about what he does.

You try not to be jealous. After all, he's not replacing you or ignoring you for his lyrics. You know that because he makes it a priority to call you at the end of each day, reminding you how grateful and happy he is to be your boyfriend.

Despite the relationship being new, Namjoon isn't afraid to show his emotions and that's what you like about him. His ability to express what he feels in such a meaningful way, with beautiful and poetic words, makes you fall in love with him over and over again.

Dating an idol is not easy, especially with one who has such a tight schedule, but you both make it work. For example, you like to visit him at his studio whenever you're free from work. You go support him and bring him some food.

You usually don't stay long either because you have to go back to your office or because he has to get back on what he's working at the moment. But sometimes, like right now, it happens you get a little bit distracted and stay longer than you're supposed to.

"Fuck, baby," Namjoon breathes out, throwing his head back against his desk chair. His hands are holding your hips, guiding you over his hard cock. His chest heaves fast, out of breath with you bouncing on his lap. "What a good girl, feels so fucking good."

You whine in response, also having an irregular breath. Your hands are on his naked shoulders, nails digging into his soft and tan skin, leaving behind crescent forms all over his flesh.

You're still not used to his size, being so big he stretches you out really well. It's a bit painful, a burning sensation making you moan, but the feeling is addicting, exhilarating.

"I love it," you admit, having Namjoon's cock nestled deep inside your pussy. You circle your hips, his tip brushing against your sweet spot and making you want more, always more.

He smiles, showing off his cute dimples and straight teeth. "Me too," he agrees. "Love these," he adds on while groping your tits in his big palms, gently pulling on your hardened nipples.

You mewl in his hands, doing a grind motion with your hips. He seems amazed to see you using him to pleasure yourself, finding it hot of you, being so turned on he feels his dick twitch inside of you.

He lets go of your breasts and watches them jiggle on your chest, licking his plump lips at the sight. He won't lie, this must become his new favourite position. The other positions are going to be tasteless compared to that one and all of this will be your fault because you can't just ride him like that and expect him to not become obsessed.

Your slick covers his pelvis and even the inner of his thighs, cock slipping in so smoothly by how wet you are. He knows his studio will smell like sex after that and he doubts anyone who enters won't notice. The odour is strong, but nothing repulsive in his opinion, on the contrary, he adores it.

He won't forget this moment that's for sure. He even believes nothing will surpass it, unless you decide to ride him with that much determination from now on.

It must be because of his work, of how badly you miss him every time he's not with you. He feels guilty, he doesn't like being so busy it stops him from seeing you, especially when you're a new couple. Honestly, sometimes he would drop everything and spend the entirety of his day with you, but he can't do that, which really sucks.

But if moments like these can make up for the wasted time, then he's satisfied.

He feels you clench around him and grip on his shoulders, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "God... baby, are you close?" Namjoon asks and you nod, moaning sweetly against his ear. "I got you," he announces, his voice husky and low, making you shiver.

One of his hands slides between your bodies and reaches for your pulsating clit, massaging it with his thumb. Your moans start getting louder and he grunts, feeling his balls tightening.

He plants his feet on the floor and thrusts up into you, your thighs shaking as your high approaches really fast. "I'm close too, fuck," he curses under his breath, circling your clit as he fucks you, a hand on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

"I'm cumming-!" You squeak, bucking your hips as your orgasm shoots through you. Your walls close around him tightly and he groans, your high bringing him to his own.

His thighs tense under you, big and strong, hips coming to a halt. "That's it, fuck," he moans and he finally comes undone into your pussy, painting your walls white with his cum. His cock twitches, spilling the last bit of cum he has.

He pats your hair, trying to catch his breath as you do the same, boobs squished against his chest. After some time, a comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you push yourself off him.

You face him and can't help but smile, biting down on your lip. You kiss him, a way to thank him for being with you.

You're happy and he is, too.

#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts drabble #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon drabble #namjoon x reader

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emchant3d · 1 year

Text

the aftermath of Steve downplaying his injuries from the bats, a steddie thread 🧵 (also on twt here)

Eddie didn’t get it at first.

Sure, he’d seen Steve after the bat attack. He’d been bloody and a little loopy and bruised to hell, but they’d had priorities.

And Eddie was a little preoccupied, what with the whole being wanted for murder thing. Sue him if he was too self-involved to worry about Harrington’s injuries past shoving the gay panic down when he watched him bite a bat and then rend it in half with his bare hands.

And then he’d known nothing but pain, and then he hadn’t known anything at all, until he’d finally woken in the hospital, his name cleared, his nipple gone, and Steve Harrington sleeping at his bedside.

Several people - Robin most of all, pushy and panicked - tried to get Steve to let the doctors look him over, but he shrugged them all off each time. According to him they’d cleaned him up on the way in, disinfected the bites and slapped some stitches in place.

He insisted that since he hadn’t been admitted, he was fine - shook the orange bottle of antibiotics he’d been prescribed and everything. “Guys, come on,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “Eddie just got out of a coma. Let’s focus on people who actually need medical attention, yeah?”

It had worked. Everyone had swarmed around Eddie to fawn over him instead, and while Eddie had glared at Steve tiredly at the time, he’d admit that he’d enjoyed it.

It was nice to be worried over. Stifling, sure, and he felt a bit guilty, but mostly he was just happy to be fucking alive and happy to have other people also be happy about it.

So he’ll confess - he let himself be used as a distraction. He let Steve deflect. In his defense, it worked on him too. He had no idea how bad Steve’s injuries had really been. Had no context at the time to guess how much Steve would downplay them.

So yeah, Eddie didn’t get it at first. But now, months later, now that they’ve saved the world and they’ve gotten closer and they’re friends, they’re more, he’s starting to understand.

Steve is self-sacrificing. Thank fuck it’s small-scale stuff now, watching him bitch but still drop everything to be there for the kids in a heartbeat, hearing the phone ring and Steve answer with a low “hey, Robbie–” and knowing he’s lost him for the rest of the day.

But then they’re hanging out one day, just the two of them, and it’s late and they're going to bed and they don't discuss it first just like they never do, but they're sharing the bed.

Somehow Steve's avoided changing in front of Eddie, not that Eddie's been waiting for it - he just realizes it when he turns and sees that Steve's dropped his pants.

It's funny. They've held one another and whispered back and forth and traded soft, careful kisses that they don't talk about much, but he's never seen Steve bare. It's an odd thing to realize.

Then Steve pulls his shirt off, and Eddie's stomach lurches.

“Holy fuck,” he says, strangled, unable to hold it back, and Steve looks over at him, immediately on edge.

“What?” he asks, dropping his shirt, hand twitching to the side like he’s going to grab the nearest blunt object - the nail bat is below the bed, Eddie sees Steve’s eyes dart towards it - to use as a weapon. Eddie ignores him, walking instead to him and grabbing his shoulders.

“Stevie,” he says, soft, bodily turning Steve so he can see his back.

The scars are fucking brutal. The skin is rough and discolored, pockmarked with pinkish new flesh that doesn’t blend in with the tan freckled expanse. They stretch down the length of his back on both sides, gnarly and uneven. Eddie swallows hard.

“Honey,” he says, and watches the spine in front of him stiffen. “What the fuck happened here?” He knows it has to be some sort of upside down bullshit, and he tries to fit it in with the horror stories he’s heard, but he’s coming up blank.

Steve is silent. His shoulders hunch a little, making his back bend, stretching the taut skin tighter. Eddie raises a hand and lays the gentlest touch he can to the scars. Steve still flinches. Eddie stills, but he doesn’t pull away.

He lets the quiet sit for a few beats, then steps a little closer, free hand fitting around the jut of Steve’s hip bone to pull his back to his chest. He ducks his head and brushes his lips in the space between Steve’s shoulder blades. Feels the edges of the scars with his mouth.

It’s more intimate than they’ve ever been, but something in Eddie is pulling at his heart, telling him it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be scared of it, not here. Not now.

Steve has trouble talking sometimes. Eddie’s getting better about waiting him out. It’s always worth it and now is no exception. “Do you remember–” he starts, halting and quiet, then cuts himself off. “Of course you remember, sorry - the bats - my bats, not - not yours.”

Eddie just nods. “I remember,” he says. He rubs at Steve’s hip with his thumb, a soft, repetitive motion, the same kind of touch he likes to give the nape of Steve’s neck when the other boy curls up on his chest at night.

It soothes them both, and some tension leaves Steve. “Before, uh. Before you guys got down there - well, you saw them grab me and, uh, pull me down. They kinda…dragged me.” Eddie frowns.

“Dragged you,” he says, soft, and Steve nods. Eddie leans back just enough to see the scars again. They look like fucking road rash - and that’s essentially what they are, Eddie realizes, thinking of the dried-up lakebed, the stone and debris Steve would have been raked over.

He thinks of the distance between the gate and where they found Steve, tries to imagine how far Steve was dragged, and he feels a little sick. “Sweetheart,” he says, soft, and Steve makes a small, pained noise.

Eddie shifts closer again, wraps both arms tight around Steve’s middle, pulls him in close and tucks his nose into his throat. “Musta hurt like a bitch,” he says quietly, and Steve gives a tiny shrug. He lays his arms over Eddie’s, hands over hands, fingers lacing together.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve just shakes his head.

“Too much was going on. We barely had time to wrap up the bites, I wasn’t gonna stop us just to patch up the rest.” Eddie gives a frustrated sound.

“We could have spared a few minutes–” Steve interrupts him before he can get a good rant going.

“We couldn’t. You know we couldn’t.” Eddie grits his teeth.

“Fine. Fine, but what about after? When we saved the world and you were sooo adamant you didn’t need a doctor?”

“Other people needed it more than me. You, Max, fuck - Eddie the whole town was in pieces.” Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about the whole town. Never has. Especially doesn’t now, knowing Steve never got the care he really needed.

He’s gearing up for a whole rant about it, but Steve keeps talking. “Besides,” he says, “I didn’t want anyone to worry.” And oh.

Suddenly, Eddie understands with perfect clarity and hates that he kind of wishes he still didn’t get it.

This was Steve at his self-sacrificing best - or worst. This was the aftermath of Steve putting himself last. Sure, these days it means he’s a little worn out from looking after the kids, or he’s drained from allowing Robin to change their plans on a dime.

But not long ago, the aftermath was this. Bruises, aches and pains and injuries that still bother him now, will bother him for the rest of his life. Repeated concussions and head trauma. Chronic migraines. Blurry vision and weak hearing on his left side.

And scars. Scars that he downplays and hides and does his best to not acknowledge. Something close to rage coils in Eddie, but he tamps it down. There’s nothing to rage against here. There’s only a beautiful boy in his arms who has seen enough anger to last a lifetime.

Eddie takes a deep breath, then turns his head to brush a kiss to the jagged silvery band wrapped around Steve’s throat and gets to feel and hear the soft, surprised sound he makes.

“I hate to break it to you, Stevie,” Eddie says, soft and gentle against his neck, “but people are gonna worry regardless.”

“But–”

“I’m gonna worry regardless,” he interrupts, kisses his neck again, and pulls a hand free to skate his fingertips along Steve’s bare stomach to feel the way he trembles beneath his touch.

“Eds,” Steve whispers, and Eddie hums quietly.

“D’you know why?” Eddie asks him. Steve gives a shaky little sigh.

“...Why?” he croaks, and Eddie can’t help it - he smiles, a little sad, a little fond, and so, so in love.

“Because I care about you, sweetheart,” he tells him, and Steve squeezes his hand so hard it hurts.

“Eddie–”

“I care about you,” he says again. “I worry because I care. And I’m always going to care, so I’m always going to worry.

So if you ever downplay an injury like this again, if you ever hide a hurt like this just because you don’t want someone to worry - well. We’re gonna need to have words, honey.” Steve manages a weak laugh.

“That a threat, Munson?” he asks, and Eddie hums. He moves his hands quick as lightning, grabbing Steve’s hips and spinning him around until he’s facing him, letting him brace himself on his chest so he doesn’t lose his balance.

It startles a laugh from Steve, and the heavy tension surrounding them gives way to something softer, gentler. Steve meets his gaze, teeth sinking into that pretty lower lip, and Eddie just barely manages to keep from getting distracted.

“Oh yeah,” he confirms, grinning softly at the look on Steve’s face, cautious and reluctant but so, so hopeful. “Don’t you know I’m dangerous, Harrington? I’m definitely capable of threatening and following through.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides his hands up until he can lay his arms over Eddie’s shoulders.

“You’re so full of shit,” he says, and it’s the fondest insult Eddie’s ever gotten.

“Maybe,” Eddie allows, and he walks backward, pulling Steve along with him toward the bed.

“We can discuss how scary and threatening I am in the morning, huh?” They climb into the bed together and curl up tight. Eddie’s hand finds the nape of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s hands find Eddie’s chest, fingertips picking out the familiar patterns of Eddie's own scars.

They lay in silence for long enough that Eddie thinks Steve may have fallen asleep before he hears him speak again.

“I care about you too,” Steve says, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Yeah?” Steve hums, nodding where his head’s resting on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Eddie looks down to find dark eyes already fixed on his face. He’s got this intense look to him, and he leans in, pressing their lips together.

It’s not their first kiss, but it feels special all the same. It feels significant, feels charged, slow and deep with Steve’s tongue swiping at Eddie’s mouth until he allows him entrance, teeth giving gentle nips and tugs.

Steve’s hand comes up to rest on Eddie’s scarred chest. Eddie’s touch slips down, traces over the scars along his back.

They’re like wings, he thinks a little deliriously. Like someone took this sweet boy and ripped his wings from him.

“Angel,” Eddie breathes when they finally break apart, lips spit-slick and kiss-swollen. Steve flushes at the name. He tilts his head and presses his mouth soft and sweet to the marred skin that snakes along Eddie’s jaw and cheek.

“Just for you,” he whispers into the kiss, and Eddie swears he feels his heart grow larger, trying to contain all the love he feels for this impossible creature.

In the morning, they’ll talk. They’ll define things. But for now, they have this, the soft, gentle exploration of each other, slow movements that drag even slower as sleep comes to claim them.

#steddie #steve/edde #steve x eddie #steddie drabble #steddie fic #my fic

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lost-and-ephemeral · 2 months

Text

Imagine: Not Yours (ft. main trio)

You chose another man.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, no comfort

A/N: i woke up today and chose pain. it can contain spoilers, content under the cut

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Zayne

He had no right to fall in love with you in the first place.

And he knew it.

But now, watching you walk down the street, holding another man's hand, Zayne felt a suffocating sense of emptiness somewhere in his chest.

It's better this way, right?

His feelings only put you in danger. Over and over again. Loving you was so dangerous and so painful, yet Zayne was willing to give anything to make you happy. Even if it meant letting you go now and live 'your happily ever after' with someone else.

Still, his Evol doesn't hurt as much as this new feeling.

He won't stop looking for a cure for you. Your health will remain his top priority, but the feeling of love will be buried in the depths of his frozen heart.

It's better this way.

Rafayel

Rafayel felt betrayed when he saw you in the arms of another man.

All these long years of painful agony ended in even more agonizing feelings. He's angry, he's desperate. His attempts to bring back your memories have come to nothing. There is no love in your eyes.

Not for him.

Rafayel is ready to turn into sea foam and dissolve again, as in fairy tales, just to end this feeling.

All his new paintings are imbued with a sense of hopelessness and despair, which raises questions from critics and admirers. He can't stop pouring his pain onto the canvas.

And he doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

Only art has always been able to help him cope with his strong emotions, but now there are so many that it doesn't help at all. It seems to be getting even worse.

How dare you forget about him?

Xavier

He shouldn't have been so selfish.

Xavier found out about your relationship with another man by accident. But it put him completely off-balance. It shouldn't have been surprising, since he was the only one who had carefully treasured the memories of your love all these years.

Yet that didn't make the situation any less painful.

It was Xavier who vowed to find you again, no matter what it costs. He was the one who selfishly believed that you would always be his and his alone, even in other universes and timelines.

However, life always has its own plans.

He was willing to do anything for you. Even drown out the glow of his own love if you were happy. Xavier would do anything to protect you so that he wouldn't have to watch you die in his arms again.

Even if it is his last spring on Earth.

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

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Glutton for Punishment | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello, hello! I am back back back again. My life has been busy, y'all. School is kicking my ass. But this fic has been like 94% complete for like a month, and I finally got to finish it! yay!

wordcount: 8939

Warnings: angst, self harm, Bucky's trauma

Bucky collapsed onto the bed with a defeated huff. The mattress rippled under his weight and jostled the computer resting on your thighs. His chest rose and fell with another dejected sigh. His meetings with Fury never went well- but they weren’t always bad. Sometimes, things between them were cordial. Neutral. This was not one of those times. Bucky wanted to sink into the bed and never come out. He wanted to dissolve into the earth and disappear. The only thing anchoring him to reality was, as always, you.

“Hey, how’d it go, babe?” The comforting lilt of your voice floated through the air. Maybe drenching your words in overt positivity was too much, but it seemed necessary. Maybe if you could coat your voice in optimism, it would fix whatever plagued Bucky. But you knew it was useless to hope.

He didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. Coming home to you after a bad day or a shitty meeting was always his saving grace; being near you brought him peace. But he hated bringing the shame home with him.

“That bad, huh?” you ditched your laptop and laid next to him, propped up on one elbow. “What happened?”

Silence. He didn’t tear his eyes from the ceiling. Didn’t even blink. He just gazed upward- hopeless.

In the quiet, your fingers traced up and down his arm. You pressed kisses to his shoulder. He always had a way of shutting you out before allowing you in. It wasn’t personal; it was just his process. He opted to suffer without your help until the pain ate away at him. And when there was almost nothing left, he tore down the walls and welcomed the onslaught of comfort.

“He said it was my fault.” Bucky tried not to sound too pathetic. He knew you worried about him- a lot. Knew that his misery always hurt you. Seeing him in pain brought you nothing but heartache. But his efforts did nothing to hide the anguish in his voice.

You didn’t want to make him repeat the whole ordeal, to relive whatever messed up shit Fury said to him- but you needed context. Your words were soft, your voice gentle. “He said what was your fault, baby?” Bucky didn’t deserve more blame, more guilt. Though none of what he did was his fault, a lifetime of remorse rested heavy on his shoulders after his Winter Soldier days. You wondered how much unjust blame he could carry before it crushed him.

Bucky sighed, “All of it. Everything that went wrong on that last mission- the explosion, all those agents getting hurt-”

“What? You weren’t even the lead on that job- how is any of it your fault?” Heat rose in your chest. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Defending Bucky was your first instinct, your first priority. And while he accepted the shame with which Fury saddled him, you immediately turned to protection. To rage.

Bucky shrugged, “he said I’m the most experienced, so I should’ve known better than to let the lead take our team into the lab.”

“Wait- he said you should’ve argued with the mission lead?”

Bucky nodded.

“But didn’t he reprimand you last month for that exact reason?”

Again, he nodded.

“What the fuck?” Wrath sizzled beneath your skin. No one was allowed to treat Bucky this way- not even Fury. He contradicted himself and put his hypocrisy on full display, knowing Bucky hated himself too much to argue.

“I can-” Bucky’s voice came out hollow. Empty. Guilt had him in a chokehold. “I can see where he’s coming from…”

“No, don’t do that.” It wasn’t a reprimand- but a reminder. You laced your fingers with his, “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

He refused to make eye contact. “I mean, I could’ve spoken up-”

“You weren’t even with them, were you? Didn’t Fury tell you to hit the warehouse on your own?”

He nodded.

“So how is any of it your fault, Buck?” Fury sent Bucky into a tailspin with almost no effort. He knew exactly which buttons to push, which wires to pull. Fury made him his puppet, his scapegoat. He made Bucky work harder than anyone else and never delivered the praise he deserved. Instead, he met Bucky’s efforts with tongue-lashings and bitter insults. With blame.

“I don’t…” he shrugged. “I don’t know- but it feels like it’s on me. A lot of people got hurt and I am the most experienced. I should’ve said something-”

“But if you did, Fury would’ve called you into his office to tell you that you’re arrogant- like he did last time.” A deep breath filled your lungs and calmed your system; anger wouldn’t help Bucky. You needed to channel that energy into comforting him, easing his mind.

You softened your tone, “You know you can’t win with him, Buck.”

“Maybe because I tried to kill him… twice.” Finally, he looked at you, “And I can handle being called arrogant- those agents got hurt, doll. That’s different.”

“I know it’s different. I’m just saying… you weren’t involved. You did what you were told- what Fury told you to do.” Your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into your touch. “And if he wants to get mad at you for that, he’s a piece of shit. He knows he fucked up, and he’s pinning it on you.”

Bucky pulled you close. He curled in on himself with you at his center, his head resting against your chest. The logical part of his brain believed everything you said. It disregarded Fury’s false accusations and willed the blame to dissipate. But the rest of him took Fury’s every word as gospel. It rejected your assurances, categorizing them as obligatory kindness from a significant other. Shame feasted on his soul. He didn’t want to feel this way, but it came easily. By now, it was second nature.

“Thanks, doll…” He lifted his head and brought his face to yours, “I appreciate you.” He meant it; no one ever supported him like this. But you always listened. You were always there for him, even when he was too ashamed to look you in the eye. You showed him patience and kindness and led him out of the dark more times than he could count.

He dotted a few soft kisses to your lips, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Wait-” Your hand caught his as he tried to get up, “I love you.”

A shy smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. He once again met your lips with his, needier this time. “And I love you.”

He stripped off his shirt and, immediately, your eyes landed on it. By now, you knew better than to stare. But sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself.

The first time it caught your eye, you couldn’t avert your gaze. You noticed it right away- how could you not? It drew your focus the first moment Bucky removed his shirt in front of you. You didn’t think anything could ever distract you from his perfect body- but you were wrong.

A massive bruise splashed across Bucky’s skin. The cluster of broken blood vessels was dark at the center- nearly black. It exploded into by purples and blues that stained his right shoulder and eclipsed his chest. Sometimes, an angry, red haze leaked from the edges like a wine stain. Greens and yellows- signs of healing- colored the border every now and then. But no matter how many times you bore witness, they never seemed to overtake the tones of violet and navy.

For whatever reason, this thing refused to heal.

On more occasions than you could count, you asked Bucky about this large indigo mark. And he always had an answer:

“Ran through a wall”

“Jumped out of a plane”

“That John Walker asshole hit me with Steve’s shield”

He did, indeed, have a dangerous job and a penchant for peril. For taking risks. But no one else on the team ever seemed to have a bruise like that. Even you received your fair share of stitches and broken ribs, but never anything as persistent as Bucky’s bruise.

Wasn’t he a super soldier? Wasn’t he supposed to heal fast- really fast? His other injuries disappeared like they’d never happened; why did this bruise stick around?

“I think you need to get that looked at,” you told him once, “it can’t be good that it never heals...”

Bucky shrugged it off with a smile. He kissed you on the forehead and thanked you for your concern. But he didn’t get it checked out. He downplayed the massive bruise eclipsing his body and moved on, just like he always did.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Bucky quirked a brow at you, his shy smile making another appearance.

You shrugged, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s not- it’s not that bad,” Bucky did his best to hide his bruise with his vibranium hand, but the colors extended far past what he could cover. “I’m used to it.”

Something had to be wrong with him, right? Something inside his body had to be out of order. The first time you saw it- the first time you saw him without his shirt- was six months ago. How long could a bruise last? And how long did he have it before he showed it to you?

Why hadn’t the serum fixed it by now?

Bucky was well past his expiration date. He lived more years than the universe intended, and his body suffered enough trauma for a hundred lifetimes. He was strong, he was a survivor. But every time you stole a glance at the inky spot on his skin, anxiety blocked your airway. Part of you wondered if this mark signaled his end. There was a chance that his body already started breaking down, that all those years of abuse caught up with him. Maybe his bruise was a harbinger. Maybe his days were numbered. Maybe he was dying.

Maybe you were about to lose him.

Those kinds of thoughts pushed bile into your throat. You shoved them into the darkest corners of your mind and did your best to lock them away, but they reappeared from time to time just to hurt you. Taunt you. Bring you to tears. And while Bucky made his way into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, you remained fixated on the inky spot. On his demise.

Bucky did his best to let the shower cleanse his mind. He told himself he’d let it all go- all the guilt and the blame. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But his shame didn’t run down the drain. It didn’t wash away with the warm spray of the shower. No, he remained coated in it, dripping with it, no matter how hard he scrubbed. And though it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he never welcomed its reemergence.

A sliver of levity wriggled into his chest as he emerged from the bathroom. He found you reading in bed, your brows knit together in that cute way he loved. But your focus shattered when he stepped into the bedroom. He watched you dogear your page and shut your book as he climbed into bed.

“You don’t have to stop reading because of me, doll-”

“I was only reading while I waited for you,” you extended a hand in his direction and tugged him closer. He didn’t need to know that you only opened your book to distract from your crippling anxiety about his condition. He didn’t need to know that you read the same paragraph over and over and over without retaining a word. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need any other form of entertainment.”

“Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes at you and gestured to the book resting on your chest, “I’m better than Dracula?”

“Way better. So, the guy drinks blood and sleeps in a coffin-” You shot him a wink and knocked your book to the floor, “big whoop.” A dramatic eye roll and a quick laugh accompanied your comments about Bram Stoker’s masterpiece. But a sudden seriousness banished your playful tone as you gave Bucky a once over. He didn’t look any better- not that he ever looked bad. But the hot shower did nothing to help him relax. All his muscles remained taught. His brow still furrowed. The tension in his jaw seemed to turn to concrete. He was hurting.

“How you doin’, Buck?” A gentle hand smoothed over his shoulder and slid down his arm. “You okay?”

A manufactured smile spread across his face. His shoulders rose and fell in an all too casual shrug. “I’m fine- I’m good.” He couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

Another tug of his hand brought him closer. “You don’t seem fine…”

“No, really. I’m okay,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed kisses to your palm. He was the farthest thing from okay; it was written all over his face. And though he did his best to put on a façade for you, you saw through the cracks. A heaviness lurked behind the grin he wore. A deep sadness darkened his gaze. You knew he probably spent the entirety of his shower replaying Fury’s words and berating himself within an inch of his life.

An extra helping of guilt dropped upon Bucky’s shoulders as he studied you. One of your nails dug into the cuticle of another. Your smile remained tight and tense. He could practically see the anxiety surging through your nervous system. And it was all his fault. You were worried about him, upset about him. How could he do this to you when you brough him nothing but peace?

He found it in him to take a deep breath, to let his shoulders fall a fraction of an inch. “It’s just gonna take a little time for me to get out of the shitty headspace Fury put me in. I’ll be alright-” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I promise.”

Fucking Fury. He seemed to allow everyone else chance after chance; he granted grace to every other member of the team. Everyone but Bucky. “You wanna get some sleep, then?” you cupped Bucky’s cheek, “hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Bucky nodded. He reached over and flipped off his bedside lamp before giving his pillow a few adjustments. He got settled under the covers and waited for you to do the same- but you didn’t. You laid there, watching him.

“You gonna turn your lamp off, doll?”

“Not until you’re all situated.”

Bucky looked down at his perfectly arranged covers and then back at you, “I’m um, I think I’m settled, baby.”

You quirked a brow at him, “Are you though? Come on-” you found his hand under the covers and pulled him closer. “Assume the position, Barnes.”

He let out a labored, tired laugh. “Baby, thank you, but I can’t. My hair’s still wet, you’re gonna be cold-”

“I don’t care- you had a rough day.” You could practically see the war raging within Bucky’s psyche. He was dying to crawl into your embrace a disappear into your warmth. But he couldn’t- not tonight.

“It’s okay, doll. You don’t have to, it’s-”

“Come onnn, Buck. You knowwww you waaaant toooooo.” You gave your chest a few light pats, beckoning him to you. “I know it always makes you feel better.”

Of course, he wanted to. Something about resting his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and feeling your hands in his hair eased his soul. Even on his darkest, most soul-crushing days, he found solace with you. But guilt still gnawed at him; Fury’s rant played on a constant loop inside his head. And after what he’d supposedly done, he didn’t feel as though he deserved your love.

“Baby, I know you feel bad; And I know you’re trying to deprive yourself. But guilty or not- which you are not-” you gave his hand a squeeze, “you deserve comfort.”

A touch of heartbreak colored your voice. You were desperate to help Bucky, nearly begging him to grant himself some grace. Some care. In his attempts to hurt himself by staying far from your embrace, he’d hurt you instead. He’d made you sad, filled you with worry. He wondered if he’d ever be able to do anything right.

In an instant, he did as you asked; he’d do anything to make you feel better. His head rested against your chest, his wet hair dampening your shirt. It sent a rush of goosebumps over your skin- but you didn’t care. A deep sigh left Bucky’s chest as he melted against you. He often swore his body was made to fit yours, that he only existed to touch and be touched by you.

“See? Isn’t that better?”

“Mhmm…” he sighed, “much.”

You ran a hand through his wet hair, “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. Okay?” You flicked off your lamp and wrapped your arms around Bucky, willing every ounce of your love into his body. He’d feel better in the morning- you knew he would. He just needed time and rest and a little love. And you gave him more than he ever dreamed of.

But around two in the morning, a strange sound vibrated on the edges of your consciousness. The dense ‘thud’repeated endlessly, like an eternal metronome. It resounded inside your head, mixing itself in with your dream until it finally woke you.

With your face still smushed into your pillow, you muttered Bucky’s name. The sound stopped- maybe you imagined it. Maybe it really was just part of your dream. Silence settled over your room once again and lulled you back to sleep.

But only a few minutes later, that sound woke you once again.

Your words came out sloppy, heavy with sleep. “Whass tha noise?”

No answer.

“Baby,” you said, more alert this time, “You hear that?”

Bucky didn’t respond.

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. There was no sign of disturbance or struggle; nothing out of the ordinary caught your eye. Everything was in its place- except Bucky. And when you pressed your palm against his side of the bed, the sheets lacked any remnants of his warmth.

This wasn’t like him- not anymore, anyway. Back when you first got together, Bucky left the room when he woke from a night terror. He’d slip out of bed and escape to the living room, forcing himself to withstand his panic attack all alone. But one night, you found him on the living room floor- desperate for breath. He clutched the corner of the rug and gritted his teeth, willing the anxiety to receded.

He flinched when you touched him; he didn’t hear you approach over the pounding in his ears. But the second he saw you, he reached for you. His sickly white knuckles regained their color as he released his fists and collapsed against you. He dropped his head into your lap, falling forward with the weight of his trauma. And he allowed your voice to soothe his racing mind. He let you guide him out of the agony.

Of course, he apologized for waking you. For inconveniencing you. Of course, you wouldn’t hear it. And when the panic finally subsided, he let you walk him back to bed. He buried his face in your chest and thanked you a million times over. After that night, you made him promise to wake you when these things happened- no matter what time it was. You made him promise not to suffer in silence. And he agreed.

You didn’t know he had his fingers crossed.

“Buck?” the anxious pounding of your heart boomed in your chest. “Baby?” You kicked the blankets from your body and abandoned your bed. Slivers of light made their way through the blinds and splashed across the floor, allowing you to search through the darkness. He wasn’t sitting on the floor or in the armchair near the window. Nor did you find him in the en suite bathroom.

“Bucky?” The hall was empty and the office void of Bucky’s presence. And while you searched for him, the sound refused to cease. It echoed through seemingly every fiber of the apartment. It haunted every space. Unfounded worries threw themselves at you, fighting to topple you to the ground. What if Bucky was hurt? What if he was gone?

No- he was fine. Of course, he was. Right? He had to be. The home you shared was safe. Nothing here could hurt or harm him in any way.

Well, maybe not nothing.

The thudding of your heart grew loud in your ears, nearly eclipsing the mystery sound all together. Part of you even doubted the existence of the noise- maybe it was just your anxiety getting to you. Maybe Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing a late-night snack, perfectly safe and happy.

But when you rounded the corner into the living room, all doubt fell away. Shards of your heart did the same as you stood in shock, watching the source of the sound reveal itself.

Bucky sat on the floor near the window, his back resting against the couch.

His metal fist hammered against his right shoulder again and again, beating the flesh a sickly blue.

The utter shock stole your breath, forcing it violently from your lungs. A burning erupted from your chest and spread through your every cell like wildfire. The floor seemed to tilt and ripple as a wave of dizziness sent you nearly collapsing into the closest wall. And through all of it, the sound persisted. The sickly thud of metal striking skin, striking bone.

But there was no time for your shock or sadness or heartbreak. Bucky needed you.

“Buck? Hey-” In only a few strides, you made your way to his side. But he didn’t look at you. He didn’t meet your eyes when you sat down in front of him, nor did he stop his assault. “Bucky, baby, can you look at me?”

He didn’t. He simply forced his hand against his chest over and over, no matter the pain.

“Bucky,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It came out more strained, more desperate than you’d ever heard it. The sight of Bucky doing this to himself almost made you sick, the sound covered you in goosebumps. A flood of saliva rushed into your mouth, warning you of the impending threat of vomit- but you forced it down.

Every time you asked about it, every time you wondered what caused that bruise- you never imagined it was self-inflicted.

“I need you to stop, okay?” Your words came out frantic, “Can you- can you just look at me for a second?”

His hollow gaze remained fixed on the floor. Anguish twisted his features, pulling his face into a pained mask. But his eyes held no life.

“Please-” your palm landed on his bruised shoulder mere seconds before the next strike. The force of his vibranium fist was sure to shatter your hand, but you didn’t care. You’d do anything to stop him from hurting himself. Anything to ease his pain. And if you couldn’t make him stop, maybe you could soften the blow.

But just as his fist once again neared his shoulder, he stopped. “Move,” his voice was low, almost timid.

“No.”

“Doll,” his eyes remained downcast, “I need you to move your hand.”

You refused. “I’m not gonna move, Buck. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself.”

Finally, he dragged his shame-filled gaze upward. His despondent look sliced through you, cutting right to the bone. This was worse than the vacant stare he wore moments ago; this was utter misery. “Please…” his voice caught in his throat, barely pushing its way past the tension. “Move.”

But your hand remained; you’d keep it there until the end of time if you had to.

Warm, salty tears breached your lips as you spoke, and only then did you realize you were crying. “Buck, why are you doing this?”

“Because I know you won’t.” He clenched and unclenched his metal fist in a never-ending cycle, itching to resume his efforts. “None of you will. Not Sam. Not Hill. Not ever Fury. So, I have to.”

“Of course, we won’t. Why- Why would we?” It was an unfathomable thought.

“I need- I deserve to be punished. I deserve to face consequences for my actions.” The words fell from his lips in what resembled a recitation, like he had a script to follow. Like he’d said this before. “There are always consequences…” Again, he pulled his hand into a fist; the vibranium whined under his strength. “There have to be consequences.”

“There were consequences- your meeting with Fury? That was the consequence.”

He shook his head, “It’s not enough- people got hurt.”

“It’s more than enough…” With your free hand, you reached for Bucky’s cold fist. He resisted at first, almost scared to be without his method of punishment. But he never could resist your touch. One at a time, you uncurled his fingers from his tight fist. You pressed his cold palm against your chest and held it there, allowing the beat of your heart to vibrate through the metal. “Especially because you didn’t do anything wrong. People got hurt- but it’s not your fault.”

Bucky ached to maim himself. He needed to feel pain. Needed to get what he thought he deserved. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand from your chest. And though you blocked his bruise and made punishment impossible, he liked the way your palm felt against his black and blue skin. It was the one part of him you always shied away from for fear of hurting the already tender flesh. But your touch soothed the deep ache.

“Baby, how…” you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “how often do you do this?” You weren’t sure you wanted the answer; just the thought of Bucky doing this to himself day in and day out filled your chest with storm clouds. But you needed to know.

His words held a deep shame, “Whenever I deserve it.”

“Buck, you’ve had that bruise for at least six months...”

He shrugged, “I deserve it a lot.”

Everything inside you burst into flames. You wanted to tear Hydra apart, to destroy them for what they did to Bucky. They altered his sense of self so violently, so irreparably, that they changed who he saw in the mirror. He viewed himself only as a vehicle for destruction, a receptacle for other peoples’ wrongs. They drilled into him an acceptance of abuse, of pain, of torture. And now, he didn’t know how to operate without it.

“No, you don’t- you don’t deserve this.” A small quiver forced its way into your voice, “even if this whole thing was your fault- which it wasn’t- you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Sometimes, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend the sentiment that he didn’t deserve pain and suffering; that he wasn’t always to blame. It was almost like you spoke different languages. Shuri may have eliminated the Winter Soldier programming and rendered his trigger words useless, but she couldn’t remove his shame. His guilt. His instinct to assume blame.

“I can’t do anything right-” His right hand gripped the edge of the rug. He needed some way to release his tension, his anxiety. The fabric bunched inside his fist and twisted with his every move.

“It seems like no matter what I do- or don’t do- someone ends up hurt. That says something about me, doesn’t it?”

“No. It doesn’t.” You slowly removed your hand from his metal wrist and found his right fist. He eased the tension in his grip with your help and released the corner of the rug. It fell crumpled against the hardwood, struggling to regain its shape. “Buck, you always say that you blame yourself because you think you’re a bad person. But I actually think you blame yourself because you’re a good person.”

He gave a small shake of his head.

“You’re willing to shoulder whatever guilt or blame other people put on you- regardless of whether you deserve it- because you’re not selfish.” He was, in fact, the least selfish person in the world. He’d set himself on fire to keep you warm. Would move heaven and earth to make you smile. He was loyal, devoted. He cared about you, about his friends, without ever putting himself first.

“And you haven’t buried yourself in ego or pride like some of the other guys we work with.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh.

No, he didn’t bury himself in ego; he had no ego. His self-image wasn’t inflated or overexaggerated. He just wanted to do his best. To help. To offset with light some of the darkness he caused.

“And maybe it’s your way of seeking redemption- not that you need to be redeemed,” you gave his hand a squeeze. “But maybe part of you feels like if you accept enough responsibility, it’ll make up for the things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier.”

He let out a sigh from somewhere deep within him, somewhere he didn’t know he had. It seemed to him like he’d been holding on to this truth, this breath, since the day he escaped. And here, in the darkness, he released it. “I just… I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

“That’s the thing Buck,” you gently stroked a few fingertips across his massive bruise, “You never were.”

His forehead fell against yours. The two of you sat there, motionless, for what felt like forever. Cars moved on the streets below. Thunder rolled through the sky. Rain drops tapped against the large windows. But neither of you noticed.

“If I move this hand-” you tapped your once again fingers against his bruised shoulder, “are you gonna do it again?”

He shook his head.

With great hesitancy, you removed your palm from the evidence of his self-inflicted punishment. It looked worse in the eerie 2am lighting, like a black hole formed on his skin; you feared it might envelope him completely if you let it. Your lips replaced your hand, leaving the softest of kisses across his skin. Bucky let loose a small sound- something like a whimper- as you traced the bruise with your mouth. He let a few tears slip down his cheeks.

“Thank you…”

You took a moment to drink him in. He was stronger than humanly possible. Hugely muscular. Nearly indestructible. But in the middle of the night on the floor of your living room, he looked so small. So fragile. His shoulders caved forward, and his read remained bowed. His voice wavered. His right hand shook ever so slightly. He was a man haunted, possessed by his past. Fearing the future. He was hurt. Broken. Lost in others’ perceptions of himself. He lay trapped under his need for validation from those around him. He sought approval from people who never dreamed of granting it.

You wondered if he’d ever be free from his ghosts, or if they’d follow him until he became one himself.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “All I ever want is to be there for you when you need me.” The tremor in your voice matched Bucky’s. Pure hurt rendered the air around you thick and heavy. You ached for Bucky, and he, in return, ached to be anyone but himself.

“What do you wanna do? We can go back to bed. Or if you don’t feel like sleeping, we can hang out in here and watch some tv.” You ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, “Up to you.”

Bucky’s mind still raced. His brain sat stewing in a deep pit of sorrow and anguish. But he was tired- exhausted. And while his mind wanted to stay up for a while, he let his body decide. His chest and shoulder screamed with pain. His skin stung. Each breath forced a sharp agony into his consciousness; he knew he must’ve cracked a rib. “Let’s-” he grimaced as an inhale filled his lungs, “let’s go back to bed.”

As gently as you could, you helped Bucky from the floor. He smiled when your hand found his as you led him in the direction of the bedroom. The two of you shuffled down the dark hall in silence with no clue what to say. Bucky wanted to apologize; you wanted to drown him in promises of your love.

Bucky stopped short when you paused, almost running into you. You turned to him suddenly, eying his bruise in the dim light. “You go ahead, okay? I’m gonna grab you an ice pack.”

“Doll, thank you, but I’m fine-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “does it hurt?”

He shrugged; the motion made him wince. “I mean, yeah. But it’s-”

“Exactly.” You pushed up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m gonna get you an ice pack. You get your ass to bed- I’ll be there in a second.”

Bucky whispered a ‘thank you’ and headed in the direction of the bedroom, leaving you alone. But just as he turned the corner down the hall, guilt wrapped around his ankles like a ball and chain. He was stuck; his need to apologize rendering him frozen. He watched you turn in the direction of the kitchen and wondered what he did to deserve you. “Hey, doll…” he called after you. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I promise.”

“But I-”

“You’re doing your best. You’re coping in the only way you know how. That’s not something to be sorry for.”

Bucky shrugged, winced, and disappeared into the bedroom, eager to escape your line of sight. Everything you did, you did for him. And though that knowledge should’ve eased Bucky’s soul, it only added to his guilt. He marked yet another tally to the long, long list of ways in which he didn’t deserve you.

The walk to the kitchen wasn’t long- but it provided a sliver of extra time for you to cope in private. If Bucky knew just how much this upset you, how heartbroken you were, he’d never forgive himself. He, instead, would add that knowledge to his ever-growing mountain of shame. He’d adopt a new method of self-punishment, something more subtle, easier to hide. And he’d never express his guilt or shame to you ever again, all to save your feelings. You couldn’t do that to him; he deserved an outlet, a sounding board, a space to vent. You’d never dream of robbing him of that.

“Alright, here we go,” you pushed open the bedroom door. “I got you one of the big ones, cause that thing is massive, and-” If you didn’t look up at the right moment, you would’ve crashed right into Bucky.

He stood near the foot of the bed, just inside the door, almost vibrating with anxiety. It rolled through him in waves and placed tremors in his hands. He didn’t stand a fighting chance.

His massive frame looming in the darkness almost blocked your path completely- and scared the hell out of you. “Shit-” You tripped over your own feet and stumbled backward, but Bucky wouldn’t let you fall.

He caught you in the nick of time, snatching you from the air and righting you on your feet. “Oh, hey- I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Without a word, you pressed the towel-wrapped ice pack to his skin. Though he detested the cold, the sensation awarded him much needed relief. A deep sigh left his chest as his pain receptors deadened and the constant, months-long throbbing subsided. This was the first thing to put his pain on pause in- he couldn’t remember how long.

You searched his face for any indicators of discomfort, “How does that feel?”

All he could do was nod. The two of you stood there a while as Bucky drank in the relief. The muscles in his shoulders released their tension, his breaths came a bit easier. But something dark lurked beneath his quiet surface.

“Such a gentleman, waiting for me to come back before getting in bed,” you threw him a wink.

Bucky’s attempted laugh came out broken, disjointed. To his credit, he tried to laugh for real. He wanted to put this whole night behind him and slide into bed with you. Under the covers, surrounded by your body heat, nothing could hurt him. The skeletons of his past couldn’t claw out of the ground and wreak havoc on his psyche. But a nagging dread yanked at his heart.

He couldn’t pretend things were resolved. He couldn’t forget his troubles and intertwine his body with yours like the knit of a well-loved sweater. The crushing weight of Fury’s blame sat atop his shoulders, growing heavier by the second. But he couldn’t find it in him to tell you, to ask you for help.

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep. Okay?” You tucked the ice pack into Bucky’s hand and started toward your side of the bed, “I know you’ve gotta be exhausted.”

But Bucky didn’t follow. He didn’t join you, didn’t even nod. He stood there, stuck, his feet anchored to the floor. The cold pack ate through his nerve endings until his hand went numb. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill his lungs. They felt shallower, somehow- like they lost all capacity.

His deadened fingers fell open, allowing the ice pack to fall against the floor. The sound pulled your focus, halting your efforts to right the sheets and blankets.

“Buck?”

He didn’t answer.

“Hey…” Quick steps brought you face to face with his empty stare. “Is everything-”

His knees met the hardwood as the weight of his anxiety forced him into submission. He fell against the cold floor with a sickening thud, his body shaking with the force. His head bowed; his spine curved forward. Ragged inhales forced their way into his ever-constricting lungs.

“Please-” he begged through choppy breaths, “if you won’t let me do it myself, I need- I need you to.”

“Buck, I’m-”

“I need you to hurt me.”

His words gutted you.

“Baby, no.”

He begged over and over for punishment. For pain.

Bucky fell against you the moment you joined him on the floor. His head lay buried in your neck, his sharp breaths fanning your skin. He begged through the tears, through the torment, for pain. And you refused. Instead, you gave him the lightest, softest affections you could manage.

Under different circumstances, your gentle touch would’ve saved him. It would’ve brought him comfort in his moment of distress, grounded him during a bout of panic. But he didn’t want kind hands. For the first time, your soft touches prolonged the agony. The light circles you rubbed against his back filled him with impending doom. With misery. He wanted torture. Agony.

And even if he were dying, he’d willingly sacrifice his last breath to ask for punishment.

As carefully as you could, you helped Bucky lay down on the floor. How his body continued to run remained a mystery to you. He was drained, physically and emotionally. He was hurt. Panic ravaged his nervous system and pumped him full of cortisol. He was running on empty.

“Let’s try to relax a bit, okay? Let’s try to breathe-”

He shook his head against the rug, “No, I need- I need it. I need you to- can you…” His words came out weak- but desperate.

Your hands raked through his hair and massaged his knotted muscles. Over and over again, you swore your love to him. You showered him in assurances and words of kindness. And though he was grateful when sleep won him over, it didn’t stop his efforts. Even as he finally dozed off, he begged.

“P- please…” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering. “Need you… need you to.” His hand twitched, his brow furrowed. “Hurt- hurt me.” Hearing it didn’t get any easier.

For what must’ve been the millionth time, you refused.

And while Bucky slept in your arms, you remained wired. Every cell in your body swam in a cocktail adrenaline and cortisol. You wondered if you’d ever sleep again. Just when you thought Bucky’s story couldn’t get any darker, it seemed to do just that. His life was all shadows and wormholes wrapped in an inky abyss. No stars, no moon. Just shapeless, unsettling, endless night.

He deserved better.

The sun rose as you fell asleep. Your mind shut off; your body gave out. Thinking yourself in circles while Bucky slept in the safety of your arms depleted your every ounce of energy. Worrying this much didn’t seem healthy; you didn’t think it was even possible to feel such deep concern. You never knew how taxing crying could be. But Bucky was worth it- hands down.

No part of you wanted to fall asleep; Bucky couldn’t be left unsupervised. But a biological need for rest demanded you get some shut eye. And while you slept off the gut-wrenching night you’d spent with Bucky, anxiety seeped into your dreams. Images of Bucky maiming himself flashed behind your eyes. You saw him bloodying his body, abusing himself. His bruise haunted you.

Waking in bed threw you for a loop. Only a few hours ago, you’d dozed off on the throw rug covering your bedroom floor. But when you opened your eyes, you found yourself snuggled under the duvet with Bucky’s body under yours. His arms held you tight, your face nuzzled into his neck. This was how things were supposed to be.

It was then you realized- your head lay against his bruise. Even in your sleep, you did your best to protect him from himself. He wouldn’t dare strike his shoulder and risk hurting you. But the weight of your skull had to hurt him, didn’t it? He was sore, miserably so. Just the pressure of your palm resting against his bruise the night before made him wince- surely, your head was too much. With the utmost caution, you pulled your head from his chest.

“It’s okay- doesn’t hurt,” his voice was weak, full of exhaustion. You didn’t know he was awake.

“Oh. Okay, good. I, um,” you looked around for a few seconds. “I don’t remember getting in bed.”

“We didn’t- well, you didn’t.” He couldn’t believe that after everything he put you through the previous night- all the pain, the heartache, the worry- he let you fall asleep on the floor. It was selfish of him, inconsiderate. He should’ve insisted that you get in bed. He should’ve done what you asked and crawled under the covers with you. He failed you- again. “I didn’t want you to sleep on the floor…”

Your lips met his skin in a chain of soft kisses, “You know I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” he returned every kiss you granted him.

He woke nearly half an hour after you finally dozed off and found you curled up against him. Your head rested against the cold hard wood; the itchy rug left marks against your skin. A small shiver rattled up your spine and pushed you closer to Bucky’s warm embrace; it was too cold for you to sleep without a blanket. His body begged him to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t- not yet. He lifted you from the floor, his shoulder aching with the effort, and tucked you into bed with all the care in the world. Only then could he fall asleep once again.

“I’m sorry about- about all of it,” he said. “Last night was-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you pulled your face from his chest, “I just wanna know what that was about.”

Bucky hoped that acting innocent would save him. “What?” Maybe if he pretended like he didn’t know what you were talking about, you’d move on. Maybe you’d tell him to forget it and save him the explanation. You didn’t.

“When you asked me to…” you gave a small shake of your head, “to hurt you.” The pain in your voice sliced through Bucky. He wondered if words could make him bleed.

“Oh. Yeah. That was… I was out of line,” his jaw tensed. “That wasn’t okay. I know I made you uncomfortable- I’m sorry. I never wanna upset you. I was being stupid. And selfish. It wasn’t fair of me-”

The shame practically dripped from Bucky’s lips. You could almost see in running down his chin, staining his skin. He expressed his remorse for things that weren’t his fault, for things he couldn’t control. He told you how sorry he was for his trauma responses and the anxiety that held him hostage. Maybe one day, he’d believe you when you told him he didn’t have to apologize. Today was not that day.

“I’m just worried about you, Buck. And I wanna help in any way I can-” you took a deep breath, “I just can’t help in that way.”

“I know.”

“Can you maybe tell me- can you help me understand?”

He remained silent for a long while. If he stayed quiet long enough, he could avoid any further distress on your part. With his silence, he could provide solace. But no. You had a penchant for knowing what made Bucky tick, no matter the pain it caused you.

Your unflinching stare drilled through him until he couldn’t take it any longer. “I needed you to hurt me because that’s what I’m used to. I’m used to punishment,” he finally said. “Because when I fucked up at Hydra, there were consequences. They’d beat me within an inch of my life to get the message across.”

Of course, this was a sad truth you already knew. But hearing it aloud- from his lips- gutted you. The image of a cowering, broken Bucky sent bile rushing up your throat. You could see him lying in a cell somewhere, his blood staining the concrete as Rumlow tore him apart. And of course, he’d never fight back- he couldn’t. Not unless ordered to.

“And now, that’s what I’m accustomed to,” he rested a hand against his bruise, almost on instinct. “I don’t know how to operate without it. I thought I’d be happy to never experience it again but… I feel like I need it.”

Showing Bucky kindness and understanding sat atop your priority list- but you couldn’t grasp his perspective. It didn’t make sense. He lived a life so foreign to you, so utterly other, that the things he said often left you confused. While the two of you had many similarities and things in common, some experiences would simply never be relatable. Some stories could never be shared.

And similar to how Bucky couldn’t understand your flagrant disregard for locking the front door, you couldn’t fathom why he’d beat himself blue.

“Why, Buck?” It wasn’t that you wanted to know. No, the truth could only serve to hurt you. But you needed to understand. You needed to untangle every knot within Bucky’s psyche and help mend his frayed edges. In order to help him, you had to first grasp his perspective. “Why do you ‘need’ it?”

“Because I know I deserve it.” The words came out course, almost aggressive. Bucky shot you a sheepish look, his method of a wordless apology. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer, his tone more even. “I’ve been conditioned to expect it. And waiting for that pain is- it’s torture. It’s almost worse than the punishment itself.”

He thought back on all the beatings he received as result of fucking up missions. On one occasion, they broke all twelve of his ribs in one sitting. Another time, they turned almost his entire body blue with bruises. But the times they made him wait it out were far worse than any bloodshed. He jumped at every sound, lost the ability to think. To sleep. To breathe. Every moment fell prey to the anticipation of agony. Bucky shuddered.

“I keep expecting pain. I feel like I have to look over my shoulder.” The urge to tear himself apart scratched at the inside of Bucky’s skull. If he could just deliver his punishment- if he could just get what he knew was coming- he’d be okay. By destroying his body, he could soothe his mind. But with you so close, staring at him with your blood shot, heartbroken eyes, he was stuck. “It’s like this sense of impending doom that doesn’t end unless I get what I know is coming.”

Things fell quiet as you thought over his words. Anxiety was an old friend you knew well. It accompanied you through everything, never leaving your side for more than a few days. But what Bucky described- that was the stuff of nightmares. That was misery.

“Hang on,” you tripped over a detail in his story, “then what happened last night?” You didn’t mean to sound skeptical- it wasn’t like that at all. You believed every word Bucky said. One part, however, didn’t quite make sense. “Last night, you got your punishment. You got the pain. Why did you ask me to-”

He sighed, “Last night was different. You caught me. I had to stop- I’ve never done that before. I’ve never stopped right in the middle. I was only out there a little while before you found me.” His vibranium hand pulled into a fist and slowly released. He did this time and time again as the urge hurt himself gnawed at him. “I didn’t do enough. It felt like holding in a sneeze or something. And when we came in here to go to sleep, I still had this sense of looming pain, an impending punishment. And I knew you wouldn’t let me give it to myself. So, I asked you to do it.”

The far-away look in his eye dissolved as he came screeching back to the present. Guilt dragged his features downward into a near scowl. “But I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” The remorse weighed more than he could shoulder. If he thought he knew what guilt felt like before, he was wrong.

“It’s okay, Buck.” You knew the memory of Bucky begging you for punishment would haunt you forever. It took up prime real estate in your mind and cut you deeper each time you paid it attention. But he couldn’t help it; this was part of his journey. When you started dating Bucky, you knew he wasn’t a ‘regular’ person. Darkness and demons followed him wherever he went, filling his mind with horrors most people could never imagine. Of course, there were going to be speed bumps and rough patches on the road of your relationship. But he never did anything with malice in his heart. He was simply trying to survive. “I know you’re just doing your best-”

“My best is pretty shitty.”

He was always so callous with himself, so unforgiving. It wasn’t fair. “Baby, you’ve made a lot of progress.” He was a completely different person than he was a few months ago. He’d worked hard every day to wade through his trauma and find himself on the other side- all while saving the world. “But it doesn’t all have to happen at once. You can’t heal from everything in one fell swoop. It’s not linear. It’s a slow process-”

“Really slow.” He let out a huff and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Part of him wanted to run; he couldn’t believe he’d subjected you- the kindest, most loving person on earth- to this corner of his awful reality. But he knew being without you was a fate worse than death. Worse than Hydra.

“I don’t want to do this-” he motioned toward his bruise. “I don’t want to hurt myself. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to heal the part of me that’s always looking over my shoulder for a punishment.”

You smoothed his hair back and let your hand drift down his cheek, “You don’t have to do it on your own, Buck. Maybe you should talk to someone-”

He shot you a pointed look.

“Not Dr. Raynor. Someone else. Someone with empathy.”

Bucky gave a firm nod and a quiet laugh. “Okay, yeah. That works.

“And in the meantime, whenever you feel that impulse, I want you to tell me, okay? I want to help you through in whatever way I can.”

He tried to protest, but you silenced him. “I’m in this with you- full stop. I’m with you for all the hard stuff and the things you hate about yourself. I’m always in your corner.”

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you as close as possible, relishing in the feeling of your heart beating against his skin.

“This is a pain-free household, okay? We don’t do punishments here. We don’t hurt ourselves, and we don’t hurt each other.” You wiggled a hand free and offered Bucky your pinky, “promise?”

Not hurting you was a given; Bucky would never dream of causing you pain. But refraining from hurting himself was another story. The need sometimes possessed him, drove him to harm himself when the guilt grew too heavy. The look in your eyes, though, pushed him to promise you. You held such love for him, such adoration. And he knew you meant every word you said. You were going to help him through, to support him, no matter what.

He linked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Good.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away, “hey, do you have Fury’s address?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Uh, yeah. I think it’s in my notebook in the office. Why?”

In one swift motion, you slithered from Bucky’s arms and slid out of bed. “Oh, no reason,” you sighed as you headed for the door, “I’m just gonna egg his house.”

———————

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glorysbox · 7 months

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hi it’s me elias 🙏🙏 i had an idea for a bot I wanted to make but I thought it would be way better if you wrote it ‼️ because I read the one where you’re in the jeep and… well. ANYWAYS

my idea is basically you and Leon are long distance and you barely see each other except for a few times a year, you barely even get to call because you’re both really busy with work. it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re alone (obviously) but you really miss him. he’s not responding to your calls and it’s worrying you, maybe he’s found someone else?? then you hear knocking at your door and there he is!!!! he’s flown to see you for Valentine’s Day to finally spend time with you again. his intentions aren’t entirely sexual at first, he also just really misses you and wants to make sure you’re okay. but then he quickly realizes what he wants (and what you want.) it’s been SO long since the two of you have had sex. like years and he’s been thinking about it so much like all the damn time

you really don’t have to include all the stuff at the beginning but I just wanted to give you like the backstory ig for my idea so you can write it like. so that it makes sense. i’m really not good at explaining things so I hope this makes sense and also i love your writing

this ended up being so long... i'm sorry. right after i said i would only do 1-2k fics

leon x gn!reader (i wasn't sure if you wanted anything specific so i made it as neutral as possible!) wc: 4.6k... warnings: explicitly 18+, cumming inside, hurt + comfort, Leon's a little bit of a jerk unintentionally, make-up sex

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Leon.

You knew that you'd be alone. That he'd go on missions in foreign countries—dangerous missions—and that you'd be left wondering if he was okay or if he was even alive. But you still started dating him.

Because you love him.

Which is why today of all days is especially difficult for you. It's like the world is taunting you—everywhere you turn, there's an advertisement for Valentine's Day specials or a couple making out on the damn corner or a guy beaming as he walks down the street holding a box of chocolates and flowers in both hands.

You love Leon... but god do you hate Valentine's Day. It's one thing to only see your boyfriend a few times in a year, and it's another to be constantly reminded about just how lonely you are without him. Which is why you're currently sat on your couch, lights off, snuggled under the blanket that he bought you some odd few years ago. It still smells like him.

It's not something you've ever bothered to bring up to him. Just how lonely you are and how you miss him so often—he already has so much on his plate, why add more? That's what you tell yourself. Still, the feelings are starting to bubble over into... uncharted territory. Each time your phone buzzes, you find yourself excitedly grabbing it to see if maybe, for once... he'd call you on Valentine's Day. Or call you at all for that matter.

But he doesn't.

He never has.

He probably never will.

You really don't mean to be so upset about it... you knew what you were getting into. But still... at least one call a week, right? That's what he's promised you.

It's been two.

And it's far from the first time that he's skipped calling you. As much as it pains you to admit, there are more important things that he has to deal with—and as much as you want to be, you're unfortunately low on his priority list.

But again, you deal with it.

Because you love him.

Even if he doesn't always get the chance to call you on your birthday because he's so busy with work. Valentine's Day always goes the same. You're alone. Your boyfriend doesn't call you. You're left to watch the stupid, cheesy romance movies that you wish you could force Leon to watch and cuddle up with him on the couch like a normal couple would.

But... you're not a normal couple. You've long since accepted that... or, tried to. You've tried. Here you are, just as you have been for the past however many years, crying on your sofa as you imagine what could have been. What your relationship could be if Leon didn't have such an intensive job. It's not long before the tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

The guilt eats you alive. You feel bad for wanting to demand some of Leon's attention. You feel bad for even feeling bad, for crying out loud. Even though, if Leon were here right now, you know that he'd comfort you and tell you just how appreciative he is of you for even sticking around for someone like him—a government agent with too much baggage.

"Damn it..." The frustration is evident as you speak to no one in particular—the noise coming out of your mouth more of a pathetic mutter than anything as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. Grabbing the remote, you very quickly turn off the scene in the movie where the two leads were about to confess their love for each other and share a kiss. God, you could use one of those right now. Being without Leon kills you. Not being able to feel his biceps around your body, squeezing the life out of you, kills you. Not being able to wake up next to him and see the way that he smiles when you're the first thing he sees opening his eyes.

It kills you so much, in fact, that as you trudge towards the front door after hearing a few short knocks, that you're not even bothering to mask your sniffles or the fact that you're feeling less than hot right now.

You hate Valentine's Day.

Opening the door with a sigh, you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand—again, not being exactly too mindful of the person who's at your front door. Cluelessness and a lack of situational awareness has always, truly, been your downfall. Of course. It's Leon. Now you're just feeling guilty again—having spent the whole day cursing him out in your mind only for him to show up at your door to surprise you.

"Are you..." You feel a familiar hand cup your face, the warmth of his calloused palm pressing and squishing against your cheek as Leon's fingers press into the soft skin. The sound of plastic wrap crinkling fills your ears; if you were to look up from your feet, you would be able to see the bouquet of flowers. Flowers. For you. From Leon. On Valentine's Day.

A part of you wants to jump into his arms. To plant kisses all over his face. To thank him for even thinking of you, even if what he's done is just the bare minimum. Another part of you just can't help but feel frustrated. Knowing that after this, after the one day that you stay together, he'll be called in to another other-worldly mission that leaves you up at night with knots in your stomach anticipating his next call to know if he's okay.

Leon's touch leaves goosebumps in it's wake. His thumb wipes the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, and then trails down to feel the skin of your neck. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of you.

"You're crying." A statement, more than a question. Your eyes are red, your pretty lips turned into a frown, and your red nose is enough of an indication of the truth. How are you going to get yourself out of this one? You really, really don't want to burden him with your feelings. You're happy, really. He doesn't need anything more on his plate.

"I...'m fine. Really, I'm just..." A sigh escapes your lips. An involuntary one. Looking up finally, you meet his gaze. Leon's icy blue eyes bore into your own, his brows drawn in and a taut frown visible on his lips. "Just was watching a sad movie." He hates to see you upset. Leon knows it's wrong of him to neglect you like this. But to see the effects of what he's done... to say that he feels horribly guilty and responsible would be an understatement. And he is responsible.

"A sad movie on Valentine's Day?" He questions, his tone slightly teasing as you step aside to let him inside of your apartment. Leon takes a deep breath—the scent of your apartment and warmth enveloping him, finally, after months. He always preferred your apartment over his... it feels like home, in his words. "I got you these."

You don't respond as he walks in your apartment like he owns it. You follow him as he makes his way into your kitchen, the silence thick and unbearable and equal parts uncomfortable. You missed him. Badly. And yet, still... you're finding it hard to open up to him right now. Maybe it's the years of bitterness of this specific damn day that are catching up to you. Leon opens your cabinet, taking out one of your mason jars to fill with water and put your hydrangeas in. As much as you want to appreciate them... and his presence, you find it hard.

"Leon, I—"

"I'm sorry." His voice cuts you off before you can continue; his tone low and just as apologetic. The mason jar full of baby blue hydrangeas is cast off to the side of your countertop as he makes his way towards you. The scent of his favorite aftershave (that he only uses to impress you) fills your nostrils as he breaches the distance between the both of you.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. I want to apologize. I need to..." His hands reach, gripping the skin of your forearms as he speaks. Leon sighs after a few moments, one of his hands reaching to run through his dirty blonde hair in a rare display of uncertainty from him. He's not good in these situations. "I haven't been the best." That's... certainly an understatement. And he knows it, too, judging from the look of guilt on his features.

Silence fills the kitchen for a few moments. Leon struggles to find the words that he wants to say—and he does have so many things to tell you. He wants you to know just how much he's missed you. He wants you to know how thankful he is for you always sticking around. He wants you to know how sorry he is for not being the boyfriend he thinks you deserve.

But... Leon was never really that good at expressing himself. Communication is one of his weakest points—he's closed off. Hard to read. But he's trying. Very hard, right now, just for you.

Because Leon loves you.

"I haven't called you. I'm sorry. I've been..." Leon swallows, shaking his head for a moment, as he then lets out a sigh. "There's no excuse. I'm sorry."

Eye contact with Leon is something that you've always savored. He's the kind of man that makes you weak in the knees just from the looks that he gives you. Of course, yes—that extends to this very moment. His eyes are full of so much... love, is it? Appreciation for you? Whatever it is, it's making your face turn redder and your heart beat faster and your hands clammier than they have ever been for the past year.

"I know you're busy, Leon... you don't have to apologize to me." The feeling of his hands running along your arms has you breathing a little quicker than before. "I'm not upset at you for it." You are, though. And he knows it. And he knows that you're just refusing to admit it because you don't want to stress him out any more than he already is, considering the state of his job.

Another long, tense silence fills the room as the both of you struggle to find the words to say. This isn't how he wanted your meeting after God knows how long to go—even though, realistically, after being neglected by him for so long... this was the only possible outcome. Still, he savors the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He savors the pretty color of your eyes and the way you look at him so intensely that it makes his knees weak. Not that he would ever admit that last part.

"I love you. More than you know... I'm sorry." Another apology slips from his lips as he continues to feel the skin of your arms. The way his thumb rubs circles on your shoulder makes you want to explode and melt into putty right then and there. "I want to do better. To show you how much you really mean to me."

"How do you plan to do that?" The question comes out softly; the tone of your voice unconsciously sweet as you find the anger and bitterness seeping out of you by the second. It feels good. He's only touching your arm, and yet, it feels too good. You needed this. He needed this more than you did.

Leon, once more, is not a man very adept at communication. He keeps his feelings bottled up. A defense mechanism—he has to, in the line of work that he's in. What is good at, though, is showing you. You barely register it at first, the feeling of his lips on yours. It's so familiar yet alien at the same time. It's been so, so long.

His lips are soft as they're on your own. Leon's hands gently wrap around your body: one clinging to your upper arm, the other perched right on your waist. His favorite place to touch when you're kissing like this—something you'd nearly forgotten. You respond nearly immediately, almost instinctively, as your lips match his own. The tears that were just falling from your face ten minutes ago are long since forgotten now. He pulls away, much to your dismay.

"I missed you." Leon's lips are back on your own before you can respond; his touch and kiss sweet and soft and loving and essentially everything you've ever wanted for the past however long. He pulls away again, hovering over your lips. "I love you."

"I missed you more." You respond, gripping to pull him closer. He leans in again, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the way you quip back at him. These are the moments that he truly relishes in. Being inside of your warm apartment, feeling your lips on him, being able to touch you all over without having to worry about the constraint of time. Just being with you. If he had his way, it would be like this every day. He'd wake up next to you. Tell you how much you mean to him. Feel you. Every day.

"The thought of you is the only thing that kept me going." Leon says softly, his hands riding up your arms to cup your face in both of his palms. He places one sweet, soft kiss on your lips. Then another. "Knowing that I'd be able to come back to you one day."

The admission has you speechless—you think, at least. It might just be the way he's kissing you, the way he's guiding you closer to him and the way his lips are beginning to move with just the slightest bit more passion. You’re putty in his hands, and he's equally putty in yours.

It's not long before his hands start to... travel. He can't help it. Leon is a disciplined man. His job requires it of him; self control is an aspect of his personality that's saved he and many, many of the other people that he's come to work with. When it comes to you, though, he finds it... particularly hard to keep himself in check. It's evident in his restrained motions against you.

The way his hands flutter to your waist, squeezing the flesh slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to not be able to ignore it's presence. His breath quickens, the warmth fanning over your face as you swear his pupils are blown further than you've ever seen them. He doesn't want you getting the wrong idea, though. He really did just come to give you some flowers and apologize... but it's you.

How can he not want to lose control?

Leon is a very selfless man... times like this, however, he finds himself to become increasingly selfish. "I love you," he repeats, his fingers running along the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers press against the warmth of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as they travel further up your torso. "Let me show you how much I love you."

"In the kitchen?" The question comes out more teasing than angry, the breathlessness of your tone making Leon's grip on your skin tighten. There's no response for a few moments—not because he's ignoring you, but because he's focusing on placing wet, hot kisses on your neck and lining them just below your ear. He knows you're sensitive there. He breaks away from your neck for a few moments.

The way his eyes are trained on your own have your heartbeat quickening even faster; the lack of a response making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You're not even naked, and still he manages to make you feel so exposed under his gaze. One of his hands begin to bunch up your shirt, not enough to fully reveal your body.

You try not to focus on his arms too much—try not to focus on the way the veins line the muscles that he's built over the years. You try not to focus on the protrusion in his pants. His labored breathing. The way that he looks at you.

"In the bed." he uses the hand gripping your shirt to begin to guide you down the hallway. Towards the bedroom.

Leon makes good on his promise of showing his love for you.

It's been too long since you've been with him like this. Back flush against the bed, shirt pulled up just under your chin, his hands roaming all over the soft skin of your body, squeezing on the sensitive flesh of your thighs. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your underwear for a few moments, eyes trained on your reaction as he relishes in the way that you squirm under him.

"Just as sensitive as I remember," he muses, his knuckle applying pressure slightly—a smile on his face as he anticipates your reaction. "It's been too long."

"Mm," You can only hum in response, the sound of your own pulse thrumming in your ears as your body unconsciously reacts to his touch. "Yeah. I missed you."

The two of you have said the phrase at least a dozen times by now—and yet, still, the meaning of it isn't diminished in even the slightest. You missed this. And he missed this more than you could ever even know. So many nights of him staying up late, imagining you pressed up against him. Imagining himself between your thighs.. hands pressed under his pants, eyes screwed shut as he reminisced on the sounds that you'd make.

Leon can't wait anymore.

He's toyed with you enough. Propping himself on his knees, slotted between your legs, he begins to pull at his belt buckle. Your breath is shallow, paused even as you watch him unzip his pants. He uses one hand, tugging on the button as the other reaches for you. Leon's fingertips ghost along the curve of your body, feeling along the swell of your hip, reaching to the indent of your waist. His hand presses into your chest, feeling the flesh below him—his fingertips pinching your nipple and eliciting a whine from your lips.

"Leon—" The sound of his belt and pants crumpling to the floor cut you off. You tremble beneath him, body taut and awaiting his touch. The tips of Leon's ears are pink as he wraps his hand around his shaft, breathing labored as his thumb swipes over the slit of his head—collecting the precum that very freely seeps in need for you.

It's big. Like the rest of him. Big enough that each time you two have sex, he has to press inside you slowly, slow enough so that you could adjust to the size. Still, despite this, he splits you open each time.

He lines himself up. Your thighs wrap around Leon's hips, hands perched on his arm that rests on your own. The blunt tip of his cock presses against you, smearing his precum as your back instinctively arches again upon feeling his touch. Leon's breath is very, very audibly labored.

"You okay?" The worry in his tone is evident as his cock spreads you open, slowly but surely slipping into you. Inch by inch. One hand grips onto the skin of your hip, keeping you in place as his swollen cock splits you open. You can't respond, of course. The way that he bullies his way inside of you leaves you all but breathless, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his forearm. All you can do is nod.

"Good," his eyes on you are full of nothing less than pure adoration, his voice raspy and low and full of desire. "You feel so good already."

You're caged between Leon and the bed. The scent of aftershave and his cologne engulfs you just as much as his body around you does, his lips hovering over yours ever so often as he whispers praises in your ear and tells you just how sweet you look under him and how well you take his cock. It's not long before he's fully sheathed inside of you, the imprint of his cock shaping your insides and filling you completely.

"You feel—" Leon sheathes the rest of his cock inside of you, the last couple inches pulling a drawn out whine from you as you take all of him. A groan escapes Leon's lips, his head hanging low for a few moments as he steadies himself and struggles to adjust to just how good and warm you feel wrapped around him. In the moment of respite, his hands roam up and down your body, dedicating the shape and the curve to his memory as he elicits whimpers from you by rolling the peaks of your nipples between his two fingers.

"Leon... please." He slides his length out of you slowly, a sigh to his voice that compliments the whine you let out at the overwhelming feeling of him slipping in and out of you slowly. He craves this; craves the feeling of you under him, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him, the touch of your lips on his own. His obsession with you encompasses his thoughts every second.

"You're too good to me..." Rasp lines his voice as he looks at you underneath him. The way your hair is a mess, the expression of your face as he presses his cock back inside of you. The sight of your body, bare, for him. And only him. It's hard not to get lost in the feeling of you. The slow pace Leon sets only quickens with each passing moment, his hips snapping against your own as he makes a conscious effort to pull out all the way each time to slam his hips back and press inside of you.

The feeling is unrivaled; the sight of this handsome man—your boyfriend—sighing and groaning on top of you at the feeling of you around him. The way that he's splitting you open—his hips brutally pounding into you with all of the strength that he can muster.

Leon hungrily watches you. He watches the way your eyebrows are raised, the way your eyes roll towards the back of your skull with each particularly hard thrust inside of you. Watches the way your body ripples with each pounding of his cock into you. The way you look up at him, your expression so fucked out and pretty... it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

"C—can't—feels too good, Leon—" Your whines and moans come out in unintelligible babbles as the skin slapping sound reverberates in the small walls of your bedroom. Leon doesn't stop—he can't stop, even. The groans from his throat are low are raspy, each one sending a throb of need throughout your body.

"Fuck," His hands pull at your hips, lifting the bottom half of your body up slightly to better angle his cock as it slams into you. "Feel so fucking good. Needed this." The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust of his hips, the springs of your boxboard even creaking as he fucks you into the mattress. Leon is rough.

But you like it.

You like the underlying tender current in his movements, long for the way his hands pull as you and maneuver you as if you weigh nothing. You like the way you can hear the squelching sounds as he pounds into you. You're sure that he's going to leave little finger-pad shaped bruises on your hips by the time that he's done with you—not that you're actively thinking of it; too busy focusing on the mind-numbing pleasure that your boyfriend gives you as he fucks you harder than he ever has before. It'll be a reminder of the night you've shared together.

The pleasure is too much. It's all-encompassing, making your toes curl as Leon's eyes screw shut in response—head hanging low as he struggles to keep whatever semblance of control that he has left. It always seems to escape him when he's with you. Especially when he's with you like this: buried inside of you, making you remember who you belong to, and pulling those pretty noises out of your mouth that he touches himself to every night he's not with you.

Leon's memorized your body by now. He has to, to survive every night he spends away from you. Every crevice, curve, and every motion that you make. From the way your back is arching, the way that your hands claw at his own—leaving angry red marks—it's clear that you're close. The way that you squeeze around him, leak around him... it's obvious.

"Gonna cum in you," he states, doesn't say—doesn't ask, he tells. "And you're gonna take it all." There's nothing you can do but take it. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all down your neck—drawing back for a moment to place another right on your lips. He swallows up your whines, the noises muffled by his lips spurring him onward. His hips twitch, and stutter—but he keeps the pace. Leon wants to show you how much he loves you, remember?

His hips drive into you, burying his shaft to the hilt inside of you every time. It's almost like a game to him—fucking you as hard as he can—the prize being the sounds you make each time he impales you with his cock. You grip at his hands, pulling on them—pulling on his arms, the sheets below you—anything. Anything to ground you.

He doesn't stop. Even as you're whining his name, babbling about how you're gonna cum, even as you're arching and shaking under him as you cum around him—hard. Your hands and fingers are nothing to the feeling of being filled by him. Leon fucks you through your orgasm, his own voice shaky as he talks you through it. Telling you how beautiful you are. How well you take him. Telling you to keep squeezing his cock like that, because he's so close.

Leon's hips sputter and twitch, his pace faltering as he groans—deep and raspy—his balls squeezing as he empties himself inside of you. He presses his hips into you still, buried to the hilt so that not even a modicum of space separates him from you. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spurt inside of you. You can even feel him shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.

Still buried inside of you, Leon leans down, pressing his body on top of yours as he seeks out your warmth and the comfort of your arms wrapped around him. He almost doesn't want to pull out—and in another act of selfishness, he decides to linger in you for just a few moments. You don't stop him.

A comfortable silence befalls the room. Save for the sounds of your breathing, the room is quiet. It takes a few moments of riding out the aftershocks and gaining your conscience back (since he did fuck it out of you) for you to speak.

"I don't want you to leave." Leon knows that you're always sappy after sex. It's why he spends extra time cuddling you. Reminding you that you're the only one for him. That only you make him feel so much love. Your hands hug him tighter, bringing him even closer down on to you.

"Not leaving." He mutters, voice slightly muffled as his face is buried in the crook of your neck.

That's all you needed to hear.

#EXTRA LONG JUST FOR U ELIAS.#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #re #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy smut #writing #nsydfw #resident evil smut #leon scott kennedy x reader

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amasterpieceofmadness · 2 months

Text

period sex - bucky b.

summary You’re on your period and Bucky wants to help you ease the cramps, with sex. You’re insecure because of the blood but Bucky is super sweet and makes love to you

wordcount 1.9k

warnings 18+, smut, period sex, period cramps, slight praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of (period) blood, Bucky being super sweet, fluff ending, aftercare

“Poor baby” Bucky mumbles into your neck, kissing it softly. You two are cuddled up in bed with you being the little spoon, curled up into fetus position with a heating pad on your stomach. Period cramps are the worst. The best Bucky can do is to be here for you and cuddle you as much as he can. And he does exactly that, holding you close to his body. “I will kiss the pain away” He mumbles again, continuing to kiss your neck, your cheek, the back of your head, your shoulder.

You can’t help but giggle a bit. “I wish it was that easy”

“Hm, I think I’m doing a rather good job” Even though you don’t see him you can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice. His hands travel down your arm and back, caressing you. You are enjoying his touch; it’s at least distracting you a bit from your cramps. His hand travels down to your naked hip and then gives your ass a little squeeze which makes you chuckle. But his hand doesn’t stop there as it wanders down your thigh slowly and carefully, his kisses on your shoulder never stopping.

Then you can feel his hand sneaking to your front, pushing the shirt you are wearing (his obviously) up a bit and caressing your stomach. His kisses trail down to your neck again, his hand brushing over the hem of your panties.

“Bucky, stop” you mumble.

“Why?” he whispers into your ear, continuing to touch you.

“I’m on my period”

“I know. And?”

You turn your head slightly to look at him. “I’m bleeding, Bucky”

Bucky nods his head, his tone still serious but soft. “That’s what period means, yes” But his hand never stops playing with your panties.

You then grab his wrists slightly. “Don’t”

Bucky gives you a soft and caring look. “I’ve heard that orgasms can help ease the pain. Let me help you”

You swallow. “But Bucky… I’m bleeding”

Your boyfriend lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, sure. Like some blood would scare me”

“You can’t be serious”

“Why not? I don’t fucking care, baby. Let me ease the pain” He leans in and starts to kiss your neck again softly.

A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand travels down to cup your clothed pussy. “Bucky…”

“I really don’t care, love… We can put a towel underneath, if you’re more comfortable this way” He looks at you with a soft smile. He really wants to help you, and maybe his growing erection a bit too. But his first priority is you after all.

You look into his eyes, searching for any signs of possible disgust. But you see none. So finally, you just nod slowly and Bucky gives you a bright smile.

“Alright. Get comfy while I grab a towel. I’ll be back in a minute” He gives you a short kiss on the nose before getting up and walking to the bathroom.

While he is getting a towel you throw the shirt you’re wearing to the floor. Bucky returns with a towel and a big smile on his face. The towel is quickly covering the sheets, Bucky next to you. His lips are on yours and his hand softly rubbing over your clothed pussy. You let out a soft moan which gives Bucky the sign to move forward. His fingers start to make their way into your panties and you freeze.

“Hey, it’s alright, love. Told you I don’t care” His voice is soft and his breath hitting your cheek.

You nod and start to relax as his fingers continue and soon find your clit, starting off with slow circles. “Bucky…”

“That’s it. Relax, baby” Bucky whispers, adding a bit more pressure onto your clit.

After only a few minutes your first orgasm hits you and Bucky decides not to tease you this time and let you have your release. He wants to help you and ease the pain, after all. As you come down from your high you meet Bucky’s eyes and for a moment you think that’s it. But then you can feel his fingers moving down and before you can protest one of his fingers is entering you without resistance. Your fluids and blood being enough lubricant already so he adds another finger.

“Does it feel good?” Bucky looks closely at your face, making sure you are enjoying yourselves and not feel uncomfortable.

“Y-yes… but… the blood…” You’re torn between feeling insecure because you are on your period, scared he might be grossed because of it, and the heavenly feeling of his fingers curling inside of you.

“Shhh… I don’t fucking care, darling. Just wanna feel you…” His hot breath hits your neck as he presses a few sloppy kisses there and continuing to curl his fingers, hitting the spongy spot inside of you that makes you gasp.

“God…” you mumble, letting your head lean back into the pillow and relax a bit more.

Bucky smiles as he sees your reaction and he continues carefully, knowing you are more sensitive when on your period. He massages your inner walls with his two fingers, sending you over the edge once again. “Yes, baby. That’s it, let go for me”

Your hands grip his shoulders as he rides out your high. He slowly retraces his fingers from you and you want to look down, but Bucky is quick to stop you. “Ah, ah… eyes on me, darling”

And you keep your eyes onto him as he climbs on top of you slowly. You don’t even notice that he wiped the blood from his fingers onto the towel draped over the sheets as you just his muscles flex as he sits up, pulling his boxer shorts down. His body sinks down to cover yours, keeping himself up with one of his elbows to not crush you with his weight.

“You still okay with this?” Bucky asks for your consent and you nod. He then leans down, kissing you softly as his tip teases your entrance. You wrap your arms around his neck and then he enters you with just the tip, making you break the kiss and gasp for air.

“Bucky…”

He continues to look at you, making sure you are still alright and not in pain. As he notices you relaxing, he pushes his cock deeper into you, making your nails dig into his shoulders a bit. His lips meet yours while he bottoms out. “You feel so good around my dick, love”

You nod eagerly, meeting his eyes. “Move, please”

“How could I deny such a lovely plea?” Bucky whispers and pulls back until only his tip is inside of you. And then he pushes in again, making your walls stretch around him until he can feel your cervix on his tip.

As Bucky continues to rock his hips slowly into you, you lift your head, wanting to see how much of a mess you are making. Bucky is quick to lay his hand onto your cheek gently, making you look at him again. “Don’t think about it. Just enjoy it”

With that you let your head fall back into the pillow and close your eyes. His movements are slow yet passionate and his lips are on yours, tongues dancing with each other. This isn’t just fucking, this is making love, and you really do love it. Bucky not only makes you forget about your period, but also the cramps seem to ease.

His breath is hot against your skin, one of his hands holds yours softly, while his Vibranium one is next to your head. Your legs are wrapped around his hips and the room is filled with soft moans and heavy breaths. Bucky’s body is rubbing against yours, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin and making it shine slightly in the light of the lamp on the side stand. His movements don’t falter as he has found the perfect rhythm, not too fast and not too slow, his shaft rubbing over your sweet spot over and over again. At the same time his groin is rubbing at your clit, making the feeling even more pleasurable.

“B-bucky… I’m… I’m…”

Bucky nods as your voice breaks, knowing what you want to say. “I know, baby. Cum for me, let me feel your walls clench around my dick” His own breath is heavy, feeling his own release creeping up on him slowly.

His words are everything you need to hear and your third orgasm of the nights hits you hard. Your eyes roll back, legs trembling and your fingers grip him harder. The moans leaving your mouth are music to Bucky’s ears and he cums, spilling his seed deep inside of you with a grunt. “God…” he mumbles, his head buried in the crook of your neck. His hips are still rocking slowly into you, prolonging your orgasms for as long as he can.

After you come down from your highs Bucky lifts his head slightly to look at you lovingly and he leans down to kiss your nose. “Feeling good?”

You nod with a drained smile. “Yeah” is all you can say. But then you remember that you probably made a huge mess down there and you want to take a look, but once again Bucky stops you with a soft kiss.

“I love baby” He smiles down at you and you can’t help but smile as well.

“I love you too, Bucky” your hand finds his cheek and your caress it with your thumb.

After a moment you can feel Bucky lifting you up and instinctively you wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him tightly. “Let’s take a shower, shall we?”

You just nod and let yourself carry you to the bathroom and into the shower, his strong arms holding you up with ease as he turns on the water. He then lifts you a bit more, letting himself slip out of you carefully and setting you down on the floor again. He keeps you pressed against his body though, giving you no chance to look down and examine the mess you’ve made. So, you let the hot water run over your body and wash away the blood and sweat of the both of you.

After you finished getting cleaned up you step out of the shower and Bucky wraps you in a big towel before drying off himself a bit. “Get ready and I’ll bring you some fresh clothes” He gives you a quick kiss before leaving the bathroom with the towel wrapped around his middle.

You continue to dry yourself off and Bucky returns to the bathroom a few minutes later. He hands you one of his shirts and a fresh set of panties, he himself is already wearing a fresh boxer short.

As you step out of the bathroom dressed in his shirt and a fresh pad in your panties you find Bucky already laying in bed, waiting for you to join him. You look at the sheets, but they are all clean, and the towel is gone. “It’s already in the wash, baby. Now come here” Bucky opens his arms for you and you cuddle into him. “Feeling better now?”

“A lot. Thank you” you smile up at him softly.

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. “Please, don’t thank me. All I want is for my baby to feel good. Besides, there are worse things I can think of then having sex with you”

“Was it very messy?” you ask a bit shyly.

“Baby, told you I don’t care” Bucky reassures you with a gently smile and starts to play with your hair while you lay on his chest.

“Really?” you ask again, not sure if he is telling the truth.

“Really. It’s just a bit blood, don’t worry about it. And the best thing is, it helps with your cramps” He smiles a bit proud of himself and kisses the top of your head.

“Yeah, I guess we need to do that again” you smirk a bit.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got you”