Synopsis: As a mermaid with the natural urge to be curious, the reader travels too deep and too far into the sea for some rumoured treasure. A humongous deep-sea squid finds her, but a certain metal-armed mer-shark comes to her aid.
Warnings: SMUT, possessive and yandere Dom!Bucky, merpeople porn, slight blood kink if you squint, age gap ig cuz Bucky’s over 100 in this and reader is assumed to be younger, fluffy-ish ending .
Word count: 1.7K
A/n: Hope you guys like it! The editor is peak <-says the editor (true btw)
He watched you from a corner of the darkened reef as you finally looked less pale, his toned torso vacant of any jewellery mer-people were so commonly seen with. As you finally got to get a good view of who your saviour was, thanks to the luminous shrimp, you were speechless…the rumours and myths were true…a mershark with a metal arm, fierce but icy eyes. However, left out of the tales were his very attractive features: sculpted cheekbones, a slight furrow in his brow, a toned and muscular torso connecting to his strong tail built for fast swimming. You couldn’t decide on what the most noticeable part of him was: his piercing blue eyes, as cold as the stories of the waters up north, or his seemingly silver-plated arm; the scars where the metal met his flesh suggested it was a prosthetic. His gaze softened at the sight of you waking “And what’s a gorgeous little mermaid like you doing here, doll?” You blinked and tried to withhold the strong urge to stare at his toned arm, his metal arm faintly reflecting the luminescent shrimp, his sculpted features, and those gorgeous eyes staring right back at you. You tried to shake those thoughts away; you barely knew him after all, you thought to yourself before noticing your pouch of trinkets was missing. Your already overwhelmed mind jumped to conclusions, “Where is it! Give me my treasure back!” “Watch it, sweetheart. Took a lot of effort just to keep a pretty thing like you alive.” He said, which fueled your frustration and another feeling your body refused to acknowledge. “I appreciate the whole hero thing, but I would really like my things back-” “They’re at the deepest parts of the trenches now; there’s no getting them back. The flimsy little pouch snapped right off when I saved your ungrateful scales.” He cut through, and you felt a wave of irritation and something else sweep you away; it wasn’t fair! His intense gaze that was so easy to get lost in, your missing trinkets you spent so much time collecting, the trouble he went through to save you, and his damn stare, it’s like he was staring right into your yearning soul. “So they’re just gone?” You yelled, “You know you’re making it very hard not to slap you right now,” you muttered at the end. He grabbed your chin roughly and whispered into your ear, “Don't threaten me with a good time, doll”. You felt a wave of heat run down your body, making you shudder against his grip. You bit your lips hard in frustration, where it bled slightly, and a growing aching feeling down in your core. He rubbed his thumb against your lips, wiping the blood off. “Don't bite yourself. Ruins those pretty lips of yours.”, he says gruffly, his voice carrying a slight rasp as his thumb reaches out to slowly swipe away the blood. He could taste you in his gills, the metallic tang making his body tingle and his icy blue eyes narrow. You wanted to slap that handsome face of his for talking to you like this, but you just couldn't, with the absurd amount of desire building in your body. “Fuck off”, you manage to utter, looking away. But he pulls your chin to look at him again, as his metal hand finds its way to your waist; the cold fingertips make you jump slightly as he leans in, “What was that? Couldn’t hear you”. Your breath hitches as you force out a harsher “fuck you”. But something glints in his eyes, “You tempt me so, doll”, he whispers against your ear as he pushes you against the edge of the coral reef. The intense eye contact made you frustrated, but now, for an entirely different reason, your chest rose and fell in sync with his quickened breathing. His metal hand still tightly squeezes your waist as the other slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your gazes both laced with a now-burning desire, and his self-control breaks as your lips part to let out a small, frustrated sigh.
He smashes his lips against yours fiercely, claiming you. You can't help but moan into the kiss, accidentally granting him access into your mouth as his tongue pushes in and clashes against your own. You could feel him harden against you as you whimper softly, feeling his length against you. His hands find their way to the piece of fabric as your makeshift top; he pulls it off, letting it float away in the water. He lets out a low groan of desire as his eyes take in your body like a man starved. “Fuck, stop looking at me like that, He growls raspily, as he gently runs his fingers over your breasts. Your mind refuses to give him satisfaction by moaning, but your body says otherwise. “Let it out, doll… I want to hear all the sounds you make…they’re mine…all mine,” he growls lowly. Bucky latches onto your nipples and sucks them harshly, making you cry out in surprise; his other hand goes to your core. Tracing teasing circular motions, your back arches beautifully. He rubs his palm against your clit, giving you enough friction to feel good but not enough to quench the burning desire. He suddenly stops, making you whine needily. “Are you still pissed at me for saving those pretty scales of yours?” He rasped right next to your ear. You shake your head profusely, “Thank you!” You whine desperately, “For what, doll? Tell me...use your words.” “For saving me!” you utter. He pushes you down so you're face-to-face with his fully hardened cock “Show me how much you mean it, doll,” he said bluntly, nothing else. You wrap your lips around the flushed tip of his cock, licking, teasing him in a way that makes him inhale harshly. “Fuck…doll…keep teasing like that, and I’ll make you my personal cocksleeve”. Those simple words were your undoing, making you suck harder and attempt to take him in better. He groans; his hands find their way to your hair, gripping it tight as he first does shallow thrusts into your mouth; he starts getting impatient and fully thrusts into you, and you gag as your eyes well with tears. He wipes your tears away and mutters lowly, “Such a pretty doll, made just for me… mngh…you look so beautiful when you cry”, grunting as he starts thrusting, his cock hitting the back of your throat. As you take him full, his balls tighten, and he sucks in a breath, “fuck I’m close”, he grunts. You suck faster, more desperate, bobbing your head up and down on his length. His head falls back as his climax reaches, painting your throat white, groaning your name like a prayer. You swallow it all greedily, and he pulls away, leaving both of you breathless.
He pushes you against the kelp-formed bed; making you gasp softly. He gets on top of you, with a dominating presence “ Doll… going to ruin you, make you see all the stars…You’ll never feel pleasure the same way again. No other man nor woman will be able to make you feel the way I do. I’ll have you screaming my name, Bucky.” “You hear me?” he says possessively. You nod as you whisper, “Bucky”. “Say it again.” he demands. You utter his name louder, and suddenly he thrusts into you, making you scream in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head as they water from the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure. He starts at a steady pace, not allowing you time to get used to the intrusion. But fuck, you couldn't blame him, it felt too good to be true; his name kept rolling off your tongue mixing with your moans and his grunts. “Harder”, you begged, and he delivered. Thrusting into you harder, hitting that spot that made your breath catch and your core tighten. Your moans grew louder, each one growing more and more desperate and needy. His breath quickens as his thrusts start to turn erratic and messy, as he leans down to mark and kiss your neck. The pleasure was too much, too good. “ Fuck, I can feel you tightening….you like that, doll? Go on, cum on my cock, Y/N, and you'll be mine forever." He growls in your ear, combined with the rapid thrusts, it was all too much for you to handle and sent you over the edge as your back arched beautifully, clenching around him. Bucky moaned into your neck, and with one final thrust, his hips stuttered as his cock twitched in you.
His gaze flicks down upon pulling out, watching in satisfaction as his release slowly flows out of your slit. His gaze trails over you r form with satisfaction. “You belong to me now, filled with my cum, my essence, my pretty doll. All filled up f’me…” he says breathlessly, the possessive words igniting a shutter down your spine. “ Now let's get you cleaned.” he says softly, the tenderness of his hold contrasting with how he just blew your back out. He licks the cum from your core and goes back to kiss your lips, making you taste his, once again. The desire fades into the kiss as love and possession take over. His metal hand caresses possessively as he bites your neck, making you wince as he leaves bruise after bruise, growling the words “mine”. His gaze scans your body, covered in his marks, as he lets out a sigh of satisfaction, pulling you into his arms. “You won’t need to go back, doll, it’s too dangerous out there for such a pretty little mermaid.” Bucky muttered, his voice raspy and gentle “No one can protect you like I can…” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as your eyes grew heavy.
Hey, do you think you'll write a part 2 to the grumpy!reader story?
I'm still thinking about it but I'll most likely do a Loki version of this AU :)) just because i think it'll be fun to write Sunshine!Loki. I will take awhile though because I'm still working on another fic currently. Will be keeping you guys posted :)))
Hey, , i wanted to ask if you could write a story with sunshine!bucky x grumpy!reader dynamic. Like, often in fanfics he is the grumpy one, understandably because of his past, but i think a story where Y/N is the grumpy one (doesn't show much emotion, cold demeanor) and bucky is just head over heels for her and tries everything to get her attention, but he can't concentrate around her so he just embarrasses himself. After a while she thinks its pathetically cute and maybe she plays (manipulates) a bit with him but yes, they end up together and he still acts the same way and she shows affection in her own way. I would love to read this (even more if its a longer one), but no pressure, just if you feel like it. Or with Loki would be just as perfect. Sorry for bad english. Thank you, bye bye
Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, a bit of manipulation, slight suggestiveness, second-hand embarrassment, one-sided enemies to double-sided lovers.
Word count: 4.1k
A/n: Thank you for the wonderful request, it's a really unique one, and I love that! Hope you guys like it :)) We would like to dedicate this section to the absolute legend, icon, and undisputed GOAT who edited this project. While most people spend their days relaxing, this editor willingly sacrificed over 8 hours of their life every single day just to help us transform this project from a collection of questionable grammar, chaotic formatting, and enough spelling mistakes to make a dictionary cry into something that actually resembles quality work. Somehow, they managed to fix around 800 mistakes every single day, and they did it with the patience of a saint and the determination of someone on a mission. At this point, we're convinced they don't just edit; they perform miracles.
Their attention to detail is genuinely unreal. They caught mistakes we didn't even know existed, rewrote sentences that somehow made sense only in our heads, and somehow managed to decipher our thought process, which is honestly an achievement worthy of its own award. If editing were an Olympic event, they would not only win the gold medal but probably rewrite the rulebook while they were at it. Their work ethic, dedication, and commitment deserve recognition on a global scale.
Without this editor, this project would probably still be sitting in a folder somewhere, held together by hope, autocorrect, and blind optimism. Instead, thanks to their incredible effort, it became something we're actually proud of. They truly carried this project further than anyone thought possible, and no words could fully express how grateful we are. Future generations should study their editing skills, universities should offer courses based on their methods, and historians should document the heroic effort that went into fixing our countless mistakes. To our editor: thank you for your endless patience, your unbelievable dedication, and for somehow surviving the experience. You are, without question, the greatest editor of all time.
“So you would need to use your com link to inform the team that you landed…”
God, those lips of theirs looked so soft… “Mr Barnes?” Those cold eyes only drew him in more- oh, they were glaring right at him now; it would be so easy to get lost in those icy pools-” Mr Barnes. Are you listening?” You set the mission folder down with a strong thud, now standing in front of a very much dazed Bucky with a lovesick look on his face. “U-Uhm.” he clears his throat in an attempt to save the awkward silence that now stretched on “Yes, of course…um… something about com-links and landing.” He flashed a charming smile in your direction, although the uncaring look in your eyes and slight frown of disappointment on your face made it slip a little. You held your gaze for a while as he took this chance to admire those mesmerising eyes of yours.
“Fury will be expecting a full mission report by the end of the mission day.” You said monotonously, sliding the heavy mission folder towards him, “I believe you need this more than I do, Mr Barnes.” “Bucky is fine.” He smiled warmly. “ As I was saying, you’ll need it more than I do, Mr Barnes.” Your heels clicked as you walked away without another word. “Oh, you wound me so, doll,” Bucky whispered to himself as he flipped through the mission folder, trying and failing to suppress the incoming grin at the thought of sharing another mission with you. He didn’t know what drew him in so intensely; was it the cold eyes? The stern and assertive demeanour? Or was it the way you glared at him that tugged, no, absolutely ripped at his heartstrings? Bucky wasn’t dumb; he knew you weren’t fond of him, or anyone, for that matter, especially Stark, who got on your nerves so much he almost rivalled Bucky, almost. But something just wouldn’t let him let you go; he was ready to launch himself at any and every chance for even just a millisecond of your attention. Even if the only reactions he got from his smiles or jokes were a glare or a “Mr Barnes”, he’d take it.
It was smothering, all that attention Mr Barnes was throwing at you. You started noticing the first time you had locked eyes with him on a mission, his warm demeanour towards you bordering on a human space heater, absolutely suffocating. His icy blue eyes gaze at you as if you had hung the stars and shown him what love truly was; you’re pretty sure he’d get on his knees if you even just thought about it. You didn’t understand the appeal to him; you tried to keep it professional, just like you did with everyone else, “Mr Barnes,” and minimised unnecessary interactions. He proved to make that extremely challenging, though, every morning, your favourite drink was made exactly how you liked it. How did he know the exact way you liked it? Please don’t ask; he’s definitely not been watching you this whole time, expectantly waiting for your reaction like an excited puppy. During missions, he always managed to have your back even though you didn’t need him to. Sometimes, you would turn around and almost run into him. “Just sticking close” was always his excuse.
It was 3 a.m., and Bucky couldn’t shake the image of your cold gaze glaring right into his own, even if he wanted to. The gym seemed to be his only solution for his restlessness; training was the only thing that could temporarily take his mind off you. His heavy boots echoed through the halls as a sigh escaped him. The light was on in the training room, not a rare sight in the tower; people were usually up at odd hours for whatever reason. Mostly Stevie in the gym at this time, though, Bucky smiled, pushing the door open “Hey, Stevie-” He stopped in his tracks, being met by your alert gaze snapping to the sudden intrusion. “Mr Barnes.” You said, simply acknowledging his presence before going back to the punching bag. He felt a slow heat creeping up the back of his neck. Oh God, he had just called you Stevie… Your gaze didn’t linger on him as you didn’t give the punching bag any mercy. The sight stirred something in Bucky, the ripple of your forearms, and beads of sweat starting to form above your brow. He tried not to stare, he really did, but it was hard when you were in the same room as him, looking as perfect as usual. It was mesmerising, really. Your form was perfect, your senses sharper than the edge of a knife, eyes locked onto the target like a hawk. “Spar with me?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself, a light flush dusting his cheeks as your gaze lifted to meet his almost nervous eyes. He was expecting a “No, Mr Barnes,” or maybe even only a shake of your head.
“Sure.” You said with a soft pant from your training, “I won’t go easy on you, just so you know, Mr Barnes.” You wiped the sweat off your brow, holding his gaze. Speaking of his gaze, it held the most passion anyone has given you in forever. You held the gaze with your usual coldness. “Don’t worry, doll. Never need to go easy on me; I can handle it.” Bucky sighed, the nickname escaping his lips. “We’ll see about that, Mr Barnes.” You replied coolly, raising an eyebrow at the nickname but not questioning. Bucky's eyes flicker with realisation, a blush creeping up, and he looks away to pull himself back together.
He pulled his punches- well, he always did when it came to you; it’s not like he couldn’t take the hits, and as much as it embarrassed him to admit it, he didn’t mind it much when you were holding the practice mock knife over his throat while pinning him down. Your eyes darted to him. You had seen that look before; it was the gaze of someone who wholeheartedly believed the sun rose and set on you, like you were the heart of the universe, his universe. You smirked internally to yourself; as stoic as you were, the urge to just tease him still lingered. Wouldn’t it hurt, right? Just a little something to keep him on his toes, you told yourself as you leaned down slowly “Too slow, Mr Barnes, I hope this isn’t going to be your performance on the mission.” You said tauntingly. Bucky’s ears turned red in disbelief at your words: “I-of course not!” He chuckled, “Just hard to actually bring myself to hit you.” He muttered the last part, " You climbed off of him, reaching for your water as you felt his eyes almost burning into your form.
The mission day came quickly. After suiting up and getting into your tactical gear, you headed down to the kitchen for a quick lunch. That was until you collided with something that felt close, adjacent to a brick wall- Bucky’s chest. “Whoa! Sorry about that, agent. Didn’t see you coming.” He helped you up with a grin on his face “Must be destiny, you know I was just going to go find you.” He held out a zip-lock plastic bag with a sandwich in it. “Thought I’d might as well since I was in the kitchen.” “ You didn’t have to.” “But I wanted to.” “You really didn’t need to. I can pack my own lunches.” “You were already so busy with the mission prep.” Bucky finished, insistent on stuffing the sandwich into your hands. The trip to the mission site was silent except for the low hum of the jet engine. It was only you and Bucky on this mission. Steve said it was for efficiency, but you suspected he was attempting to give his best friend a hand. Bucky’s stares were painfully obvious even if he tried to hide them; they seemed to always trail back to your form, that stray strand of hair that escaped, your gaze that flicked out to the window occasionally, the tapping of your foot when the turbulence made you slightly uneasy. He wanted to reach out and take your hand in his so badly, to tell you that the turbulence would be fine, among other things. As the jet opened its
Rear hatch, Bucky handed you a parachute before you could even think about getting one, offering you a warm smile that greatly contrasted the freezing temperatures harshly blowing into the jet. You muttered a thanks as you strapped it on, checking your gear one last time before jumping out of the jet, Bucky following closely behind you. The objective was simple: land in the snowy plains, find the abandoned Hydra base, infiltrate, extract information, and destroy what was left of it. You landed successfully in the soft cushioning of the snowy plains, Bucky, a few feet away from you. The thick snow made it hard to navigate, and you reluctantly took Bucky’s hand as he helped you up. Thankfully, the Hydra base wasn’t too far away, the thick and rusted padlock suggesting that it was an older branch and had been untouched for quite a while, only being visited by the merciless weather and harsh grasp of the years that had passed. To your dismay, it wasn’t any less cold in the base than outside, although the steel doors did block out most of the freezing winds. Bucky took the lead, as he usually did when you had missions together, taking it upon himself to try and protect you. It was a primitive Hydra lab at best, left abandoned before anything was packed up. You let out a strong sigh when seeing those old computers and bins of file folders. “I’ll deal with the computers; you can sort through the folders, Mr Barnes.” You said monotonously. “Don't touch anything,” you warned Bucky lowly. Bucky lifted both hands in surrender, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite your warning. “Wouldn't dream of it”. The promise lasted all of twelve seconds. The moment you crouched beside one of the dusty terminals, a loud metallic clang echoed through the room. Your eyes closed for a brief second before you slowly turned your head. Bucky stood perfectly still beside a fall pipe, looking almost offended that Gravity had betrayed him. “...it rolled”, you said at last, your voice carrying that familiar disappointed edge. “I gave you one instruction.” A sheepish grin spread across his face. “Technically, I didn’t touch it on purpose.” Your expression didn't change. Somehow, that made his grin widen.
You exhaled through your nose, already turning back towards the computer terminal. “If we survive this mission, it’ll be despite your best efforts.” Bucky places a hand over his chest. “That almost sounded like concern”. “It wasn't.” “Could have fooled me” Before you could deliver another dry remark, the old monitor flickered to life beneath your fingertips. Folders of faded Hydra files were scattered across the cracked screen, accompanied by the low whir of an ancient hard drive struggling to wake after years of neglect and frost. The playful atmosphere disappeared almost instantly. Your shoulders squared, every trace of the bickering gone as you focused on decrypting and downloading the files. Bucky noticed the shift immediately. Without another word, he moved to the doorway, his posture switched to something far more familiar, a soldier standing guard. His eyes swept the dark corridors while his metal fingers rested tightly against the rifle slung across his chest. Even in silence, he found himself glancing back every few moments, just to make sure you were still there.
Your fingers danced across the worn keyboard, the glow of the monitor reflecting faintly in your eyes as files slowly began to decrypt. “Almost there,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Bucky. Behind you, the silence stretched just long enough for him to relax- until the faint crunch of boots and the strong aroma of gunpowder lingered somewhere deeper in the facility. His expression hardened in an instant. “We've got company,” He said quietly. You didn't look away from the screen. “How many?” Bucky leaned just enough to glance into the corridor. “At least four, maybe more.” A beat of silence passed before you answered with the same calm tone you always used. “Buy me two minutes.” Bucky couldn't help the small smile that slipped onto his face despite the situation, no hesitation, no panic, just complete confidence that he could handle it. “Anything for you,” he muttered under his breath before stepping into the hallway, his footsteps disappearing into the darkness as the first alarm finally roared to life throughout the abandoned base. He moved with that cold precision you had only seen on missions, the muscle memory of the Winter Soldier coming to life and flowing through his veins. One, two, three and the last shot echoed throughout the frigid base; muffled thuds hit the ground without any sort of struggle. Bucky marched back into the room, “All taken care of.” He smiled warmly, contrasting the acts that had just commenced a few seconds ago. A rare and faint smile graced your lips, catching Bucky off guard “Thanks, Barnes.” It slipped out absentmindedly from your mouth, surprising even you as you cocked an eyebrow at your own words. Bucky was in a very good mood for the rest of the mission, bounding along beside you as you two rendezvoused with the Quinjet.
The silence inside the aircraft was heavy, not with the tension of the mission, but with the sudden jarring shift in Bucky's demeanour. He moved with a lightness that seemed entirely out of place for a man who, only moments ago, had been a terrifying force of nature. As the ramp hissed shut, sealing out the harsh winds of the extraction zone, he leaned against the bulkhead, his metal arm casting the dim interior light with a dull, rhythmic light. He didn't look away from you, his gaze lingering with a curiosity that felt almost heavy. “You don't say that often”, he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, gravely register that echoed in the small space. “The Barnes part, usually, it's Mr Barnes or just nothing at all” You busied yourself with your gear, unbuckling your harness with fingers that felt less steady than they had during the mission. The adrenaline was receding, leaving behind a strange annoyance. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and found that warmth had not faded; it had deepened into something more intense, more personal. “Don’t take it personally,” you countered. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly dominating the small cabin, and for a fleeting second, the mission felt like a lifetime ago. He reached out to steady a piece of loose equipment near your shoulder, his fingers brushing your tactical vest, “Then I suppose I'm guilty." Your eyes narrowed at him as you grabbed his wrist and shoved it away from your equipment, “Personal space, Mr Barnes,” you said clearly, getting annoyed.
“Yes, agent,” he said and moved back to sit down, still watching you with those eyes filled with hope. The same hope you always felt like to crush between your thighs, him right between your legs. “Get it together. What am I thinking?!” you think to yourself and look away from Bucky, refusing to mentally acknowledge whatever that was.
A while later, you were in your quarters, a mission successful, the debrief finished. But fuck, all you could think about was bucky. James fucking Barnes. God, that name irritated you badly, but fuck, you could not get it out of your mind. Why was he always just following you around, like a mutt? You scoff to yourself, a sound that almost sounds like a laugh. Something about the way he looks at you with hope and that lovesick smile makes something sinister stir in you. You just want to wipe it off and break that hope in his eyes. The thought of that sends shivers down to your core. You lie back on your mattress, the cool sheets doing nothing to soothe the heat blossoming under your skin. You rolled onto your side, propping your head up with one hand as a slow, wicked smirk pulled at your lips. The urge to test his limits, to see exactly how much control you held over his fragile mind, was entirely too tempting to resist it. It wouldn't hurt to toy with him a little; after all, he practically begged for it. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, typing out a brief message: My quarters. Now.
It took less than three minutes; a soft, hesitant knock brushed against your door. You didn't stand up. Instead, you draped yourself across the pillows in a posture of deliberate, relaxed authority. “Come in”, you called out, keeping your voice low, almost bored. The door slid open, and Bucky stepped inside. He has already showered, dressed in a soft, faded grey henley that clings to his broad shoulders, his vibranium arm gleaming under the dim overhead lights of your room. The moment his eyes landed on you, that familiar, hopeful expression softened his features. It was a look of pure, unadulterated devotion- the lovesick smile of a man who believed he finally found a safe haven. It made your stomach twist with a dark, delicious thrill. You wanted to ruin it. “You called, doll?” Bucky murmured, stepping further into the room, though he kept a respectful distance. His metal fingers twitch slightly at his side. "Close the door, James," you commanded softly, using his first name, something you never do, just to watch the subtle shiver it sent through his frame. He obeyed instantly, the door clicking shut behind him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, thick with an unspoken tension. “Sit,” you said, gesturing to the floor right beside the edge of your bed. Bucky blinked, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes, but the hesitation was gone in a heartbeat. He sank to his knees, his large frame folding easily onto the cold floor. He looked up at you, his chin resting near your mattress, completely vulnerable. You reached out, your fingers slowly tangling into his dark, damp hair. Bucky let out a soft, shaky sigh, leaning his head into your palm like a dog craving a touch. “You did well on the mission today,” you murmured, your thumb outlining the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the rough scratch of his stubble. Your eyes glance at his lips deliberately, suggestively. He involuntarily leans closer. Your thumb traces his lips sensually, as you lean down closer, your breath hitting his face. His lips tremble at the slight contact; they part slightly as his breath hitches, his pupils dilating at the mere breath. Something swirled within you; your thumb slipped into his mouth involuntarily. A soft sound escapes Bucky's mouth, his tongue twirling against your thumb slightly before you pull away slowly, putting your thumb in your mouth, as you pull away and mutter “You taste sweet”. A pink tint covers Bucky's cheeks. “Y/N… he barely whispers” “Yes, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice sweet. As you look into his eyes. Bucky stays motionless, words jumbled, heart racing. He leans close, on the verge of kissing you, but you pull away in time and pat his cheek and say. “I want those mission reports on my desk before tomorrow; you're dismissed, Mr Barnes”. You say. The softness in your voice is replaced with the same monotone. You stand up and leave your room, going to the mess to grab dinner to end the night with, leaving a stunned Bucky. You don’t glance back.
Bucky returned to his quarters. He was hot and bothered, his tongue twisted, not knowing what even happened, but god you looked attractive, more attractive than you ever have been. It stirred Bucky more. He wanted to press his soft lips against yours, he wanted you to dominate him, He wouldn't even mind if you treated him like a puppy, at least he would be your puppy. His shirt felt tight, and so did his pants. The room felt smaller, and his breathing was deep and heavy. His eyes carried a certain lustful haze to them as his hands snaked down his body sinfully.
The next few weeks, he's noticed how something has changed between you, if it was any more possible, you grew distant. It ached his heart; he missed you, even your glares and your cold remarks. That night was surreal. He still remembers it like it was yesterday. He noticed how you avoided eye contact. That wasn't something you did.You had always been the one to hold his gaze without wavering, forcing him to look away first. It had always been him, not you. Now, your eyes drifted past him as though he were another stranger in the hallway. He didn't understand. You didn't mutter sarcastic comments under your breath anymore. You didn't throw playful taunts his way. You didn't glare at him over morning coffee. You simply…stopped. And somehow, your silence hurt far more than any argument ever could. Bucky tried talking to you. A quiet "Morning." A hesitant "You okay?" Nothing. You walked past him as if he hadn't spoken at all. Every unanswered word chipped away at him until hurt curdled into frustration.
By the time lunch ended, he'd had enough. He caught up to you as you headed back toward your quarters. His hand closed around your wrist, firm but not painful, pulling you into an empty corridor tucked away from wandering eyes. The door closed shut behind you. You looked up."...Y/N."His voice cracked despite himself. "What is it with you ignoring me?" he asked, searching your face. "Why are you ignoring me? Just...talk to me. "Your expression remained unreadable. Mr Barnes," you replied coldly, tugging your wrist free, "I have work to do. Not fix your pathetic excuse for feelings." The words landed like a punch. Something inside him snapped ."Feelings aren't pathetic," he shot back, his voice echoing off the metal walls. "The fact that you won't let yourself feel anything is pathetic." Your eyes narrowed; he'd hit a nerve. A dangerous one. "So that's what you think?" you murmured. Bucky didn't back down. "I think you're pushing everyone away before they get the chance to leave first. "Your jaw clenched."I think you're terrified of caring." Another step closer. "I think you've convinced yourself that being alone is easier than admitting someone matters to you."Enough.""I think you're lying to yourself every time you pretend you don't-"Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt. In one swift movement, you spun him around, slamming him against the wall with enough force to rattle the metal panels. His breath caught. Your forearm pinned against his chest, your face inches from his. "You think you know me?" you hissed, every word dripping with restrained fury. "You think you've got me figured out because you can read a few expressions?" Bucky didn't struggle. He simply stared at you. Really stared. Your breathing was uneven. Your hands trembled despite how tightly they held him. Your eyes...They weren't angry. They were exhausted. Hurt. "You don't know what it's like," you whispered, your voice finally cracking. "To let someone in...only for them to become another thing you lose." The confession hung between you. Your grip loosened. "I'd rather people hate me," you admitted quietly, "than give them the chance to matter." Bucky's expression softened instantly. The anger drained from his face, replaced with something infinitely gentler."...Is that what this was?" he asked softly. "You were trying to push me away?" You looked down, unable to answer. A bitter laugh escaped you. "You should've just left me alone." “No." His response was immediate. Firm. He slowly lifted a hand, giving you every chance to pull away. Instead, his fingers gently rested against yours where they still clutched his shirt. "I'm not leaving because you decided to build another wall. "Your throat tightened." You make me so damn angry," you muttered. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I know.” "I hate how you always see through me." "I know." "I hate that I wanted you to chase me." "I know."
The words barely left your mouth before he closed the distance between you. Not out of impulse. Not out of desperation, slowly. Giving you every opportunity to stop him. Instead, your grip shifted from his shirt to the back of his neck. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting second. Then you kissed him. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't graceful. It was months of fear, frustration, longing, and relief colliding all at once. When you finally pulled away, your forehead remained against his."...You are unbelievably irritating," you mumbled. Bucky chuckled softly.
A/n: This was so fun to write :)) Requests are open so feel free to ask away!
Synopsis: As a mermaid with the natural urge to be curious, the reader travels too deep and too far into the sea for some rumoured treasure. A humongous deep-sea squid finds her, but a certain metal-armed mer-shark comes to her aid.
Warnings: Deep-sea, deep sea exploration, possessive and yandere Bucky, age gap I guess cuz Bucky’s over 100 in this and reader is assumed to be younger, descriptions of gore, little bit of corruption kink if you squint real hard near the end, and cringe :))
Word count: 1.5k
A/n: First Bucky fic so I'm a little nervous :) Hope you guys like it!
Teeth sharper than razors, ruthless claws that would skin you of your fluorescent scales, and ruby eyes that pierced into your soul if you were ever unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, deep in the Leviathan trenches where many lay slain.
At least that's what the rumours whispered in the seawater reefs, myths, of course, you assumed. Your eyes swept over already scavenged sunken ships; the siren mercenaries must have already hit this place; nothing remained of the treasure and fine contraptions you sought so dearly. The jewellery polished by time, locks gently held by rust, the wood corroded by the embrace of the saline. Your curiosity drove you to yearn for exploration of the marines around you: pearls, lost gold, memories swept away off their feet by centuries just as your longing for oddities did you. Often deep in the midst of kelp and schools of sardines, sunken ships lay to rest, victims from yet another vicious storm commanded by the unmerciful heavens. Humans were fragile and curious beings; they couldn’t swim well yet still explored the vast unknown, whether that was incredibly idiotic or courageous, you still couldn’t wrap your head around. But you didn’t complain; they ventured on their own accord, and when their boats flipped, you would get a new wave of trinkets. Human inventions fascinated you: the extravagant daggers and swords, intricate little circles made of metal that ticked curiously, a starchy substance that gooped up when wet but preserved fine in dry glass bottles. Your side pouch, which contained the fruit of your explorations, clinked mutedly against your fluorescent scales. Eyes flicking to a nearby rock formation, you recognised where you were, not too far off from the trenches the reef spoke of. An immortal cyborg mershark was rumoured to inhabit those deep and dark trenches, slaying anyone who ventured into his territory. You scoffed to yourself, “Immortal cyborg mersharks? What am I, five years old?”
Those weren’t the only rumours of that trench; the mercenaries yearned to travel there for the lost riches of vast boats, said to be from waters far away, brought into the trenches by strong currents of the olden ages. Siren mercenaries often told stories in the cities they stepped into; other than the usual tales of sunken ships, some would gather around the local biofluorescent corals to share their anecdotes of the deep seas. Unfortunate souls were said to venture too far into the abyssal zone, only returning as fragments of the past in memories of the present. The Leviathan Trench held similar stories, rabid and ruthless monsters guarding treasures of untold value. The stories never frightened you; the promise of more otherworldly trinkets and oddities was too alluring to dismiss. Which was why you were currently heading into the Leviathan Trench, a jar of biofluorescent jellyfish you had caught late last night tied securely to your waist, one of the daggers you had found sheathed next to the glowing jar. Trophies of your latest escapades were adorned on your body: intricate chain necklaces, rings and arm cuffs of various metals you never knew the names of, a long stick-like contraption, one of your favourite human inventions, although common in sunken ships, you favoured it for its ability to shorten distances for your eyes. As you wandered farther into the trench, the only lights emanating were from your jar of jellyfish and the occasional small school of glowing shrimp. It was dead silent; life seemed less and less observable as you progressed deeper into those abyssal trenches; the water untouched for centuries was so fresh it almost pierced through your gills. The pressure of the water grew heavy, and it was slightly harder to swim. Every time you wished to turn back, your mind called out to you, “But the lost treasures! Swords still preserved from their days of glory on the surface! Ornaments and precious stones of fine craftsmen's ships!” You could be the first to discover what once was on those ships, swept away and forgotten by the tides but never forgotten by your curious soul that sought the ultimate fulfilment in the fragments of time.
After an hour of feeling around in the dark, you finally found a humongous sunken ship made purely of dark oak; the masts that once proudly carried the sails many decades ago still stood mostly intact. The ship was preserved well, untouched by mercenaries, and pitied by time. As you ventured into the interior, you were pleasantly surprised with long-forgotten gold and silver coins, intricate rings, sculpted bangles, and types of contraptions you hadn’t even seen before. You giggled to yourself excitedly, taking many of the oddities you found fascinating. Then the small schools of shrimp wandering in the waters around you scattered; you whipped around, the dark oak floorboards started to creak ominously, and a low hum vibrated through the water. Before it could close in on you, you quickly swam towards the exit, as fast as your tail could take you. Upon making it out, it wasn’t any better, and you were met by the sight of a humongous deep-sea squid, its deep orange flesh standing out in the otherwise now vacant abyssal waters.
You screamed as the squid's tentacles shot out in an attempt to grab you; the pressure of the waters muted your cry for help as it struggled to echo away. You tried to swim away, but one tentacle wrapped around your tail; you struggled against it and tried stabbing your dagger into it. It was useless; the dagger could barely even scratch the thick flesh, hardened by centuries of roaming these deep, dark waters. Your eyes felt another tentacle snake up your scales and latch onto your neck, your vision now turning spotted and blurry. However, a sudden jolt of the squid prompted you to open your heavy eyes, struggling to see what happened; a blur of silver and slate flashed before your eyes as you felt the grip of the squid suddenly go slack. The taste of iron filled your gills before passing out; the only thing you could recall was the feeling of cold metal wrapping around you.
(BUCKY POV)
That sound…one I’ve never heard for centuries in this cold and unforgiving void. There it was again… muted, but the tone gave away something, or someone was in danger. Before I knew it, I had left my alcove in the dense reef of my territory, harpoon in hand as I sped off towards the muted but desperate screams. “It can’t be..” I muttered to myself, “There’s no way someone was dumb enough to venture down here…” I was soon proved wrong by the sight of a pretty little mermaid currently in the grasp of a long, overgrown sea squid. My harpoon flew and lodged into the eye of the squid; as it was blinded in one eye, it loosened its grip on the mermaid in its grasp, and I took this chance to launch myself at the tentacles still holding them captive. My metal arm reached it first, quickly ripping it apart, the metallic taste of blood filling my gills. The squid took this as its cue to leave and never return. My metal arm pulled the mermaid close to me, as I swam towards my alcove.
What was I thinking? I huffed to myself; it was a waste of a perfectly good harpoon. All for what? A pretty little doll? They weren’t even waking up, curled up in my only spare kelp bed, their gills still lightly working. My gaze trailed down their form, adorned with many forms of jewellery, impractical, I thought to myself. But a part of myself seemed to like it, their fragile form all dolled up and pretty, such a gorgeous sight…shame to let them return to the warm and shallow waters. Such places would never welcome me, I thought to myself almost wistfully. I couldn’t put a finger on why, but I didn’t want to leave them. Their iridescent scales sparkled under the dim lights of the luminous shrimp wandering around; I felt my chest tighten in a way that I hadn’t felt since… forever. I should let them go; they’d be scared of me anyway, I muttered to myself. But as they started to stir in their sleep, I realised that I didn’t have to let them go…it would be a pity for what's going to be mine to venture out into those treacherous and merciless waters…After all, who would protect such a fragile little doll like them?
Would you rather infinite beans and no games or infinite games but no games
Very good question, goose-theduck :)) I think I'd rather have infinite beans and no games because even if I have no games, at least I'll have beans :))
Synopsis: After finding a portal that allows him to travel between the realms, Loki uses it as an escape to a quiet haven, with a vacant library on the outskirts of Alfheim ....But is it as vacant as he thought?
Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff, a little bit of Thor and Odin hate if you squint real hard, but its loki are we surprised?
Word count: 2.9k words
A/n: This is written as pre-Thor!Loki, who never found out his Jotun heritage and never let the Jotuns into Asgard. Also, the Lightelves description in this isn’t completely accurate to traditional Norse mythology, and is changed a bit to fit the story better. My first attempt at fanfiction :)) hope you guys like it!
Loki hated it. Loathed it even, the loud, boisterous feasts Asgard seemed to hold almost every day and night. Sure, the honey wine was good in small amounts, and the roast lamb never disappointed, but it seemed to be the company that was the problem. Loki stood in a vacant corner of the banquet hall, sipping his ale, his eyes sweeping over the warriors that slammed their dishes and yelled for more food, downing their flagon of mead before one could blink. In the centre of the lively crowd was Thor, soaking up all the attention he so desperately craved from his peers and the Allfather. Loki didn’t mind it much; it was better than having all the attention on himself after all; he could already feel the headache just from thinking about swarms of drunk warriors surrounding him, hooking their sweaty arms around his shoulders while they sang about their oh-so-precious glory and honour from the battlefield. Putting down his now empty ale cup, Loki quietly retreated from the feast and made his way down to the library, the noise behind still following him. He tried, he really did, to focus on his book in the farthest corner of the library, but the off-tune singing echoed through what seemed like all the nine realms. Loki huffed, whisking his book away with a spark of green and gold.
Throwing on a cloak for warmth, he mounted a horse and set off towards the forest. He had been here many times, seeking peace, and peace it gave. It was silent, satisfyingly so, with the only noises being the crunch of leaves beneath his boots and his soft breathing in the chilly night air. He got to his usual spot of soft grass underneath a large oak tree; the candles sparked and came alive as he approached, and a small but sufficiently warm bonfire was conjured. Although this time Loki didn’t sit down, he paused, emerald eyes quickly flicking cautiously to a low humming noise coming not too far from him. “Who’s there?” He questioned, the air seemed to thicken as he slowed his breathing and calmed down, his dagger in hand as he inched closer to the humming noise. He caught sight of it, a vertical strip of something that seemed to bend space itself, and Loki noticed it glowed, sort of like the Bifrost. “It can’t be.” He whispered to himself, picking up and throwing a small rock into the supposed portal. It vanished in a flash of rainbow light, with a louder bass-heavy sound that seemed to make the ground vibrate.
“Just like the Bifrost,” Loki smirked. This changed things; he now discovered the possibilities of this power. To travel freely between the realms without Heimdall’s knowledge, because if he knew, surely Heimdall would appear right in front of him and put a stop to this possibly unstable and dangerous power. The gears began turning as Loki’s mind filled with plans; could he invade a realm and claim it as his own? Midgard was rumoured to be a defenceless world filled with mortal peasants, although never having been there himself, Loki wondered what it would be like: the power, the honour, the glory of ruling his own world. Would they worship him? Would they fear him? He chuckled at himself; it would be a perfect plan if the Allfather weren’t so cowardly in invasion. If news spread fast enough, the Allfather would know within a few hours of Loki’s new reign as Thane of Midgard, Heimdall would see the disturbance, and Thor would likely be sent to retrieve him. “Glory and honour? Now I’m starting to sound like those ditwits in the banquet hall.” Loki muttered to himself.
As ideas flowed, Loki sought to stabilise the portal first; after all, it would be useless and possibly a hazard if something wasn’t done about it. It took him two continuous nights of magic and spells to have it hold open, the opening now large enough to let himself walk through. However, it seemed to lead only to Alfheim; judging by the leaves that blew into the portal and reached Asgard, they shimmered and faintly glowed in the night. Warmth spread through Loki’s fingertips as he picked one up and inspected it. After a great deal of debating and throwing assorted objects into the portal, Loki decided to go through and explore his newfound escape from the noise of Asgard.
The grass was soft under his fine leather boots; the air itself seemed to carry a certain glow and smelled of the most pleasant florals of all nine realms. The sun was radiant but never blisteringly hot, a gentle warmth washing over his figure, the sweet melody of birdsong echoing in the distance as Loki stepped forward. This was the peace he was looking for: the tranquil waters near the weeping willows, the vacant woods, with nothing but the sounds of nature to keep him company. Alfheim was breathtaking, Loki thought to himself. The low humming brought him back to reality; he turned around to check if the portal was still open. Not only was he met with the sight of a stable portal, but a towering building was also right in front of him, its ivory pillars catching the afternoon's setting sun and scattered rays of brilliance across the woodland. It was worn, but still standing soundly; the waves of time seemed kind, and it melded right into the forest around it, long vines comfortably circling around the structure as if it were in an embrace.
The years of silence in the structure finally broke as Loki’s footsteps echoed throughout the interior. To his delight, there were shelves, dark oak bookshelves that were far from vacant as the exterior of the building suggested. The books were worn, well-read by time, and even contained titles that were lost for decades, written eras before he was born. It was vast, possibly once part of a proud village now washed away by the tides, rediscovered by one who was eager to comprehend.
Loki spent the night there, eventually letting fatigue sweep him away into the night, only stirring at the beams of the early morning’s light softly prodding at his sculpted features. For a moment, possibly from the sleep still in his eyes, Loki thought he saw a glowing figure, peeking from behind the willows outside, not hostile, just observing; before he could reach out or determine if it was a dream, they vanished. Blinking away the warm embrace of sleep, Loki got to his feet and quickly moved to the same willow he had last seen the figure. They weren’t present, but the soft scent of lavender lingering was the only trace of them left. Before Loki could think too hard about it, he remembered that he had just stayed the night in Alfheim, and should be heading back before anyone had noticed his quarters were missing a certain raven-haired someone. He gave one last fleeting glance towards his newfound safe haven, promising to himself that he would be back that night before ducking into the glowing portal. The low bass sound made the ground vibrate, as it muttered a welcome home to him as he was back on Asgardian soil. Mounting his horse, he rode back to the kingdom in the slight mist of the morning dew.
No one suspected anything; most were still drunk from the feast the night before to even be awake. Loki made his way down to his alcove in the library, picking up a book or two from the towering shelves. “Lightelves… ah, here.” he muttered to himself. The books in his arms read: “Alfheim Unveiled” and “A Lightelf's Guide to Lightelves”. Lightelves were curious beings, Loki thought to himself, described to be fairer than the sun, holding light and nature close to their hearts. Although nothing pointed to them being specifically shy, Loki decided not to let that linger; they could have just been cautious. The morning slowly transitioned into noon, and Loki quickly grabbed lunch, choosing to ignore the questioning looks he got from his brother as he hurried back into the library. The books about Alfheim weren’t nearly as enchanting as Alfheim itself, but they sufficed in quenching his current curiosity. The terrain, the local creatures, the food, and most importantly its residents- the one resident in particular that couldn’t seem to leave his mind.
The night air of Asgard was as crisp as it was the previous night, mounting his horse and pulling the hood of his cloak over his head, Loki rode off into the distant forest. He was giddy for some reason; he hadn’t felt that sort of feeling for some time and couldn’t tell if it unsettled him or just made him more excited, maybe both. The cold and slightly damp night air quickly faded away as Loki stepped out of the portal; even in the veil of night, it was never dark in Alfheim, being the realm of light; even its trees glowed with fertility, keeping the library dimly lit. His boots echoed off the walls as he made his way to his spot near the window last night, his footsteps slowing as he saw what lay on his seat. A small pile of assorted fruits he had only seen at diplomatic banquets, half a loaf of rye bread, and a block of cheese. They were neatly arranged on a big lily pad used as a makeshift plate, and a note was tucked between the bread and the cheese. Loki unfolded it.
Dear Raven-haired man not of this realm, please accept my humble gift,
I welcome you to Alfheim.
Sincerely, Y/n
A smile spread across his face; warmth spread from his chest and expanded towards his cheeks. Why was he feeling so happy from just a note and gifts? Loki didn’t know the answer for once, and for once, he didn’t yearn for it. The warmth settled comfortably in his chest and the tips of his ears as he looked around for the figure. You were radiant in the night, too radiant to go unnoticed, behind the same willow tree observing his reaction to the food. Loki smiled, “Thank you…” he whispered before you shyly vanished into the forest.
This turned into an exchange of sorts; Loki came back the next night with Asgardian honey wine and roasted lamb he had snuck from yet another celebratory banquet. Notes were exchanged between the two curious souls from different realms, and each time Loki was able to get closer, talk more, even get a few words out of the radiant Light elf who was now slowly more comfortable around him. The first time you ever spoke to him was engraved in his memory; it was the fifth night, and Loki had brought an assortment of pastries he thought you might like. His steps slowed as usual, cautious not to scare you away. You were looking through books near his seat, the faint glow of your skin taking his breath away. “Hello, again.” Loki said softly, breath hitching as you turned around to meet his emerald orbs. As they swept over your form, he was speechless for a moment as he observed your features and tried his best to commit them to memory. “I brought you something…” He smiled, “I thought you might like them; they’re Asgardian pastries.” He handed you a bundle of cloth, the pastries wrapped in it as the sweet smell hit your senses. Loki patiently waited for you to try one before asking, “Well? Do you like them? If you do, I can bring more next time-” “They’re wonderful.” Your voice carried through the air, the most beautiful melody that had ever graced Loki’s ears. He let himself pause and smile, letting out a breath he never knew he was holding in. Giving a small chuckle, the same warmth spread through him again, just as it did the second night, the third, and anytime he caught sight of you. “I’m glad you like it, Y/n” Your name slipped from his lips, leaving both of you now smiling at each other like love-sick idiots. The rest of that night was filled with comfortable silence with both of you reading next to each other, and the occasional chatter about book topics.
He had to leave in the morning as he always did; it pained him; he could feel it in his heart as it beat against his ribs, aching for you again. Last night you had let the comfort of the night sweep you off your feet just as Loki had with his charming smiles and delicacies from another realm. He didn’t dare to move the whole night when you rested, leaning against his shoulder as the sleep consumed you. When the morning made its arrival on the doorstep of the library, Loki had to leave, carefully lowering you onto the soft cushion of the chair, and taking off his cloak, then draping it over you as a blanket for the time being. He let his gaze linger on you for a few moments; pink dusting his ears, you looked so peaceful and ethereal under the morning brilliance it made his heart ache to leave. “I’ll see you tonight, Darling,” Loki whispered softly, brushing a finger over your cheek before going back to the portal, with one last fleeting glance towards the library.
Frigga was never one to be suspicious of her sons, but as Loki greeted her in the morning, she could smell something floral on him, a fine smell that reminded her of the perfumes from Alfheim, mixed with a sweet and soft lavender. She didn’t question him, just held her gaze as he took off to the castle’s library; after all, it wasn’t all too bad if he found someone; it had made him happier than who he once was, which was all that Frigga needed to know.
As the days went on, you started to open up to Loki, telling him about how you lived in a small cottage in the forest, which you planted a patch of lavender in front of, and you loved the Asgardian pastries, which he made sure to bring more of every night. He adored the way your eyes would light up when he approached you, the faint pink in your ears and cheeks when he handed you your favourite pastries, the quiet moments where you two were comfortably leaning against each other while reading. The part he enjoyed the most was when you occasionally gave in to the grasps of the night and let the sleep cradle you as the presence of Loki lulled you to a dreamless rest. You hadn’t dreamt in so long; why dream? When the man of those dreams, the kind you only read in books, was right next to you? It had been a month already, and you felt as if you knew Loki for half your life, his emerald eyes never wavering from yours even if his flushed cheeks betrayed him; he loved the gifts you gave him- food, flowers, the lavenders from your garden woven into a crown; he loved them all. And tonight he brought something special with him, “I’m back again, Darling.” Loki smiled, the term of endearment his way of teasing, as he knew it never failed to fluster you. And indeed it never did; you stepped out from behind a bookcase, ears slightly warm, “Welcome back.” A smile graced your face, that smile that Loki yearned to see every night, every day, and in his dreams. “I have something that I hope will be of your interest.” He smiled back, holding out a music box, an enchanted one at that, with different songs on it, best suited for slow dancing. You gasped excitedly, and Loki’s heart skipped a beat or two when your hands cupped his, inspecting the contraption, “A music box!” You grinned, “A music box indeed.” Loki set it down and opened it, letting it play. He turned to you, green cape that matched his eyes swishing behind him; he bowed down, extending a hand, “May I have this dance?” His emerald eyes met yours.
Warmth spread through both your cheeks. “Could you teach me? I’ve never danced with anyone before.” You said softly, taking his hand and savouring the sensation of his hand gently holding yours as he guided your steps. As you learned a simple slow dance and let him dip you, you glanced up to meet his eyes while he held you in his arms, Loki already holding his gaze on you fondly. It was magical: the soft music, being in his arms. As the dance slowed to a simple sway, it felt like time slowed down; the eye contact between you two was electric as you leaned closer, Loki’s eyes flicking to your lips then back at you. A dreamy sigh escaped his lips as his hand grasped your chin gently, his hands warm and tender. Tilting your head up to meet his softened gaze. “Darling… my dear, has the Allfather painted the heavens anew? Let me worship you as lightning loves the heavens, igniting light wherever it touches. I find myself drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Let me taste your lips on mine.” He whispers hoarsely yet it was full of a now not so unspoken love as he glances at your lips with barely hidden desire.
Your body shuddered at the mere words; a rush of ecstasy flushed your face. You felt your defenses falter as his hands found your waist, leaving you exposed in a way that was both terrifying and comforting. You felt yourself longing for more of his touches. Your body involuntarily leaned closer to his. Chest pressed against chest. He chuckled lowly. “Darling? Your blush is like the sunrise”. If your blush could deepen any more, it just did. You glanced up at him, once again, this time with burning desire. Your eyes flickered to his lips as your tongue grazed your own unconsciously. With a blink of an eye, his lips collided with yours in such intensity it felt so tender. His tongue pressed against your lips in the kiss, pressing against your lips, seeking entrance; your lips parted slowly, and his tongue swirled in your mouth, making you gasp softly but lean in closer, as your arms wrapped around his neck. You both lean away to take a breath, a heavy breath.
I love you, Loki… you whisper.
I love you too, so much more than words can express, Loki whispers against your lips as he pulls you back into a kiss.
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