It's Aang! Sokka let me borrow Hawky. Please feed him before sending him back.
I'm writing to ask if it's okay for me to drop by. Except I'll probably be there by the time you get this, because Appa flies faster than Hawky. Still, it's polite to ask!
Write back (or don't.)
Hot regards
Your friend Aang
-
Revered Avatar Aang
Hawky arrived two hours after you left. Never send me "hot regards" again. Like I keep telling you, language has changed in the past 100 years. It doesn't mean what you think. Future historians will think we were having an affair.
It's always okay to drop by. Hawky has been fed.
May your inner fire warm you (write that down somewhere)
Fire Lord Zuko
2.
Hi
need 3 fire benders (zappy) + few construction workers + a lot of copper
Delivr to harbor
sokka
-
Honorable tribesman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, son of Chief Hakoda, Hero of the 100 Year War
No.
May your inner fire warm you
Fire Lord Zuko
-
Dear Jerk Lord of the Jerk Nation, Master Jerkbender and All-Around Jerk
quit being stingy and send me what i need. seriously. the fate of your nation is at stake. LOOK:
[drawing of two pickles, a stick figure and waves]
Hot regards
Sokka
-
Sokka
Your drawing makes no sense. I'm writing a law which bans you from owning a messenger hawk.
I found you three volunteer firebenders who can lightningbend. They'll be there in a week with four carts of copper. If you need construction workers, beg Toph, don't bother me.
Feed Hawky better. He's malnourished, he keeps begging me for more food.
And don't do that.
Fire Lord Zuko
3.
Dear Honorless Usurper
My, how the time flies. It seems as if it was only yesterday that I was supposed to be crowned Fire Lord, and here we are, celebrating the first full year of your doomed reign. I salute you.
Know this: you won't know peace for long. I have entered into an alliance with Admiral Noboru. He is a true patriot and has kindly offered me three ships and 2000 men to retake the throne. He has also generously offered to serve as my consort, "despite my mental deficiency."
I am writing as a courtesy, as it is obvious that the throne will soon be mine. I might even let you live.
May Agni's light shine on you*
Azula
Fire Lord-in-exile
[* common benediction for the dead during Fire Lord Zuko's reign]
-
Dear Sister
Thank you for writing. I spoke with Noboru. I told him that I was allowing an Agni Kai and that you were on your way.
Noboru has fled the country. He gifted you his whole estate, see the enclosed list. He said to tell you he's sorry and not to come after him.
Please come visit any time. I hope your healing is going well.
May your inner fire warm you
Your brother Zuko
[enclosed: A list of assets including a home in the 5th Province, a vacation home on Ember Island, 20 acres of farmland, a substantial amount of gold and silver and assorted property]
4.
Zuko
this is the worst copper i've ever seen??? i want a refund. you're the worst copper merchant ever.
sokka
-
Sokka
You didn't even pay for the copper. I'm not giving you a refund. And I'm not a copper merchant. I didn't even buy it, somebody else did. What's wrong with it?
I can send you more if you need?
Fire Lord Zuko
-
Sokka
I sent you two more carts of copper. This is the best copper we have, so if it's not good enough, you can get your own and stop mooching off of me.
Fire Lord Zuko
5.
[on a thin sheet of metal]
Sparky! Earth Rumble 8 is two weeks from now. I'm coming to pick you up in the morning two days before.
Check it out: I can write now. Katara helped me with the characters but I've got it now. Hawky isn't strong enough to carry these, but Katara's dad is letting me borrow Seabreeze.
It's TOPH.
-
Dear Lady Beifong
You can't just come pick me up! I'm the Fire Lord. Two weeks isn't enough time for me to arrange days off.
I'd like to come watch you knock some heads, but I can't. Sorry.
Feed Seabreeze. Seriously. What's wrong with you people? Every bird you send me is starving.
May your inner fire warm you
Fire Lord Zuko
-
[on a thin sheet of metal]
Sparky. Thanks for sending me a sheet of paper but my privy is stocked. I can guess what it says though: "I can't go I'm so busy and I'm too much of a wimp to clear my schedule"
I'm coming to pick you up. Tell your guards they can either get out of my way or get CRUSHED. It's gonna be fun.
It's TOPH.
-
A painting of Fire Lord Zuko, Lady Beifong, Master Katara, Avatar Aang, Suki of Kyoshi Island and Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. Lady Beifong is sitting on the Fire Lord's shoulders, holding up a decorative belt and smiling widely.
"Just tell me you don't love me anymore." Zayne freezes mid removing his shoes. His head turns slowly to your figure standing in the hallway, arms crossed and practically vibrating with something that looked perilously close to actual fury.
Did he forget something? What day is it?
He sets his shoe down carefully. "I'm sorry, love. Did I do something wrong?”
He reaches for you but you step back before he could. "Don't touch me."
He's confused. He ran through the day in his mind for possible mistakes he might have made, but couldn’t find any. He remembered waking up with you this morning, you had been in a perfectly good mood.
You even laughed at something over breakfast and nearly choked on your coffee, then he had dropped you at the hunter association on his way to work. You had stolen a couple of kisses before saying goodbye.
And today wasn't a special day he could have missed. Then what did he do? “Talk to me, darling. Tell me what I did wrong."
"Tell you what you did wrong? Do you even see what time it is?" His eyes snapped to the clock on the wall— 6 minutes past his usual time, he won't consider that late so he doesn't understand why.
"You never come home on time. You left me on seen for twenty minutes. You rearranged the mugs, why did you rearrange the mugs? And you.. you… you forgot to close the window yesterday, i was -”
"Did you eat today, love?"
"That's- no, I didn't because I was waiting for my husband to come home so we could eat together but apparently my husband has forgotten he has a wife waiting at home.”
Oh now he knows what’s wrong. He is already walking to the kitchen.
"Wow, are you ignoring me, Dr Zayne Li?” You follow him. "Very mature, very-"
He comes back with a slice of cake on a plate. You looked at it. "I'm not hungry."
He holds a bite out to you. "I said I'm not hungry" you said, but your stomach growled immediately after. Embarrassed, you took the bite to distract him from the sound.
You let him feed you, arms still crossed stubbornly while trying to maintain the pissed off look.
"Feeling better?"
"Mmmhm." You finish the last bite and your expression softens. "I'm sorry. You weren't even late."
"I know."
You look down. "I didn't eat lunch either."
He sets the plate aside and pulls you into him, tucking your face against his chest. "You could have just said you were hungry."
"You could have just come home on time.”
He presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'll be 6 minutes early tomorrow."
You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. "Promise?"
"Promise.”
“I love you” you tuck your face back into his chest and pull him closer.
ֺ𓏲𝄢̣̣ the day your sweetheart of a boyfriend finds out that you aren't as into vanilla sex as you seem
bf!jungwon x fem!reader wc 1533 smut (MDNI) softdom!jungwon slight choking/breathplay penetration nicknames degradation (like one word) praise breeding kink no protection oops
Yang Jungwon was the best boyfriend.
He was the absolute sweetest, the literal embodiment of a green flag. He buys you flowers and somehow always knows exactly when to replace them, cooks for you when you’re sick, and orders food whenever the both of you are too tired to be anywhere near the kitchen. He knows your whole person by now—what you like, dislike, your interests. Jungwon knows you in your entirety.
But, of all those things, Jungwon knows your body best.
He knows how hard or soft to go when you’re overstimulated, knows when you need his fingers or his tongue (or both). Jungwon knows every curve and dip on your body so well that you’d think he was the one who created it. He never, and I mean, never, passes up an opportunity to feel you up. To him, your body is a temple, and Jungwon happily worships it. That’s why he’s always so soft during sex. While the thought of being rough has always been something that tainted his mind, poor Jungwon would never forgive himself if he hurt you. Which is why he always sticks to gentle caresses and soft pecks on the cheek whenever he drives into your cunt a little too hard.
Now, the one thing that Jungwon doesn’t know about you? You like it rough.
This was something you’d grown accustomed to keeping to yourself, because it was embarrassing, and Jungwon was the most vanilla person you knew. You didn’t want to tell him that you enjoyed getting pounded into the mattress, because honestly? You might leave him scarred for life. At least, that’s what you think. You couldn’t be any more wrong.
Jungwon likes rough sex just as much as you, just hasn’t been able to express it because he was worried about your opinion, too.
So, he spends another night making gentle love to you instead of feeding into his fantasies.
Jungwon’s hips roll into your own slowly, the tip of his pretty cock kissing your cervix with each leisurely stroke. One of his hands cradle your head, his lips peppering soft kisses onto your face. Jungwon is sickeningly sweet with each press of his pelvis against your own, soft coos and praises being whispered into your ear.
“Right there, baby—fuck, there we go,”
“Mhm, just like that, taking me sososo well,”
Jungwon’s hand sneaks under one of your thighs, pressing your knee further into the mattress beside your head so his cock nestles even deeper into your cunt. The slick sounds of your pussy clash with his soft groans and your high-pitched whines. While his soft thrusts are amazing, hitting that spot deep inside of you with each roll of his hips, it isn’t enough. You need more, need to feel his tip bullying your cunt, need to hear his skin slapping against yours.
“Woniee—mmph—need,” You can’t form a proper sentence with each of his strokes distracting you.
“Hm? What d’ya need, baby? Tell me what you, fuck, what you need,” He groans into the crook of your neck, beads of sweat making his skin glistening. He looks so fucking pretty, you want to lean forward and lick the condensation off of his abdomen. But you can’t, not yet, you have to tell him what you need, first.
“Harder, please, need your cock—” You whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders to steady yourself. Jungwon’s eyes snap open at the request. This was the first time that you had asked him to go harder. Usually, you were moaning and producing noises he didn’t know were possible.
“Y-you sure, baby? I don’t wanna hurt you..” He whispers, pressing a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss to your jaw like it was a natural instinct.
You nod feverishly, nails clawing at his back now. His hips had stilled completely, his cock twitching inside of your cunt.
“Please, Wonie, need it—fuck, want you to be rough,” You finally admit, glassy eyes gazing up at him expectantly. Jungwon can’t say no to his girl, not when you look so cute all fucked out and sweaty beneath him. “M’kay, baby. Tell me to stop, just tell me if I’m being too hard.” He whispers, burying himself into your neck before picking up his pace again.
This time, Jungwon doesn’t take his time. He doesn’t deliver slow, deep strokes. Jungwon isn’t making love anymore, no, he’s fucking.
His hips drive into your harshly, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix and forcing a high moan from your lips. Never did he expect to hear such a pretty sound from you, and now that he had, he was obsessed. Jungwon thrust forward with just as much force as the first time, holding your thigh in place so your leg was folded beside your head. The position allowed him to slide in and out with ease, and he felt so much deeper.
With each thrust, your gummy walls clenched around him, a ring of your mixed fluids forming at the base of his cock. A guttural groan escaped Jungwon as his pace grew faster, the echo of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. “Fuck, baby, this what you wanted? All this time, you wanted to get fucked like a slut?” He huffs, punctuating every word with a deep thrust, pulling back out and snapping his hips against yours again.
When you take a little bit too long to respond, Jungwon's hand creeps around your neck like an anchor, fingers flexing just enough to make you feel hazy. Jungwon relished in the quiet gasp for air that left your lips, making him go even faster.
A soft whine leaves your lips as you nod, the words leaving you just as quickly as they fill your head.
“Fuck, yes—needed your cock, Wonie,” You moan, leg growing numb from how long it had been pushed up next to your head. With each thrust you can feel your climax approaching, his cock bullying that spot deep inside of you just right. The cocky grin that forms on his face makes you clench around him. Jungwon is a sight to behold—silver chains dangling above you, beads of sweat painting his body like a canvas, and dark hair clinging to his forehead. But the most attractive thing? His eyes hadn’t left yours once. The whole time Jungwon was fucking you into the mattress, he kept his eyes on you, watching the way your face contorted to see what you liked.
“Yeah? Needed Wonie’s cock? Don’t worry baby—I’ll make sure to fuck you real good. Make sure you’ll feel me for days.” He murmurs, a hand trailing down to your stomach where the print of his dick was practically branded into the skin. He pressed down, feeling himself pump into you with each snap of his hips. “Gonna fill you up, ‘kay?” He whispers, pressing sloppy kisses against the crook of your neck, all tongue and teeth. “Gonna give you my babies, fuck, you’d make such a good mommy,” He coos, leaning back and looking at you with those chocolate doe eyes. “You’ll let me make you one, right? Gonna carry my kids?” He practically pleads, switching from dominant to a whiny mess in a matter of seconds.
You nod so quickly you don’t know what came over you, nails digging into his shoulders so deep that red welts would remain there for days after.
“Mhm, gonna be—gonna have your babies, promise.” You nod, soft, breathless whines leaving your lips as your orgasm crashes over you. “Fuck, cumming, Woniee,” A high-pitched whine leaves your lips. By now your leg has gone numb, but Jungwon is still driving into you. The slick and your fluids has made it so much easier for him to slide in and out of your swollen cunt. His cock has been driving into you so hard that you’re sure your cervix is bruised. Mindlessly chasing his orgasm, Jungwon isn’t even aware that he’s sending you into overstimulation.
He takes your whines and moans as the say-so to keep going, to reach that orgasm he so desperately needs. His hand around your neck travels back to your nap, holding your head up as he delivered brutal thrusts.
“Fuck, I’m cumming, gonna fill you up,” He groans, delivering one more harsh thrust before burying himself inside you to the hilt.
Warmth spreads throughout your insides as his seed paints your womb, his arms almost giving out beneath his body weight. A breathless sigh leaves his lips, chest heaving and his hair all sweaty. Jungwon pulls out and flops down beside you, watching the combined fluids flow out of your abused hole. “Fuck, didn’t know you were into that, baby.” He manages, reaching in between your legs and collecting the fluids on his middle finger before plugging them right back inside of you. Your cunt twitches from how sensitive it still is, and he lets out a soft chuckle—half amused, half in disbelief. “You okay?” He hums, expression softening when you nod.
“Yeah, felt good.” You murmur, and his lips curl upward into a smirk.
“Get on your hands and knees, then, m’not done.” He whispers, sitting up and giving you a gentle pat on the thigh.
@jeongspetal 4.28.26
authors note: okay hes bias wrecking me if u couldnt already tell (sorry for not uploading in like a week >3<) a little something to put on here while i work on the jayke fic
Summary: you have been Lando's friend, and quite vocal about your interests (in him, persay) for a while now, but he isn't ready to make a move. One interview later, youve decided its time to move on- but why is Lando suddenly coming all the way back to you?
✈︎
liked by lando, yourbsf, and 8.9k others
y/nusername a very papaya celebration @/lando
fan1 WORLD CHAMPION CELEBRATION I SEE
fan2 the cake? icon behaviour I fear
fan3 no cause even I would try to eat Lando's face
fan4 love how shes not being subtle at all
fan5 but SOMEONE doesn't seem to notice
fan6 atp I think he noticed idt he cares 💀
fan7 nahh have you seen the vids of them with each other- someones just delusional trust
fan10 ok but that hairstyle EATS
lando didn't leave much of the cake for me btw
y/nusername not my fault it looked so good
fan1 are we talking about the cake... or the person on the cake?
y/nusername liked
lando posted
someones reflecting
fan1 sooo soft launch?
fan2 nah theyve been doing this for years atp
fan3 omg new video coming soon?
fan5 landoo
y/nusername omg whos that guy on the second slide? hit me up
lando dunno love he might not have your number
y/nusername dm then, king?
lando yes maam
fan8 so I don't go here but no way they aint together
fan9 shes nottttt slickkk
fan10 not a subtle bone in her body she WANTS that man
liked by y/nusername
y/nusername posted
can yall tell walking 5k is not for me
fan1 noo not our queen being bothered by steps
lando photo creds when?
y/nusername partner creds when?
fan2 not the face delivering even with that expression
fan4 omg she was out with lando?
fan5 girl get that ring this month or move onnnn
fan6 like we aint fawning over men who dont care this year plss
fan7 you can do so much better no joke
yourbsf posted to stories
someone come get herrr shes dancing like a ___
fan2 IS THAT Y/N????
fan3 GET IT GIRLLL
fan4 SHE REALLY SAID 'ALR WE BALL'
fan5 love that for her ngl
lando what the fuck?
fan6 SO WHO IS THE MYSTERY BOY
fan7 NO IDEA BUT THAT PICS SO CUTE
fan8 you can only expect a girl to stay for so long
fan9 PREACH
Incoming call from landoaccept decline
lando new times new person
fan1 since when did he watch rugby?
fan3 I read somewhere that y/n loves it
fan4 omg is this an attempt??
fan5 new times new person FOR WHATTT
fan6 girl think about it
fan7 self reflection in each post wdym hes looking down
fan8 he knows he did her wrong
fan9 cant look up till you get that respect back ngl
y/nusername posted
fan1 ORANGE BACK ON THE FEED???
fan3 now who could have possible gotten these
fan4 lando reconciliation attempt
fan5 I believe they call this 'courting'
lando so you liked them?
y/nusername debatable
lando I'll take it for now
lando posted
fan3 isn't this from y/n's favourite book?
fan4 YES IT ISS
fan11 WOW SO OK
fan12 never did I ever think i'd catch lando norris posting book quotes online
fan13 the things people do for love
fan14 I know his playboy feed is crying looking at this post
fan15 we got la 2016 vibes and dark rooms for five years and then boom - loverboy
fan5 doens't he hate reading?
fan6 the way its a second chance romance book to
fan7 ohhh how the roles have switched
fan8 online flirting bro do u think shes going to catch feelings via screen osmosis or something?
fan9 literally like go out together or something?? wtf??
y/nusername did you like it?
lando you might have to explain some parts to me. Wanna come over?
y/nusername and lando posted
fan2 stories at the same time?
fan3 ohh so they were together
fan9 lando pic taking skills are good tho ngl
fan5 the flowers? did not know norris was like that lol
fan7 thats what- the seventh one hes gotten so far?
fan8 seven- that we know off!!
photo credits- given
partner credits- taken 🧡
lando that partners right here btw and has been for four months
y/nusername ur still in probation here
lando this is not a probationary post love
y/nusername time to delete then ig?
lando suddenly u have screen time limits
fan1 OH MY GOD
fan2 RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?
fan3 MY PARENTSSSS
fan4 OHHHH MY SHAYLAAAAS
fan6 THE POWER COUPLES ACTUALLY TOGETHER THIS TIME
fan7 SO THEY GO ON LIBRARY DATES?
fan8 HE CALLS HER LOVE?
fan8 ARE WE NOT GOING TO TAKE IN THE FACT THAT THEYVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR FOUR MONTHS
lando I THOUGHT THE FLOWERS AND THE STORIES AND THE INTERVIEWS WOULD HAVE BEEN HINTS ENOUGH?
Fan9 shes better than me I would have made him wait two years too
fan10 girl its THE lando norris here
fan9 idc bro a mans a man
fan11 SOFT LAUNCH AND YET ITS A HARD LAUNCH
fan12 proof that manifestation does work
fan13 brb manifesting a love like this
✈︎
authors note: did I get this done in record time in the middle of my exams because I didn't want to study? yes yes I did.
am I going to fail those exams? yes yes I am
Jokes aside I hope you enjoyed it:) @callsign-mirage and I hope I stayed true to your request (sorry if its slightly different, i did take a few liberties on plot points)
summary: you have a clogged duct from breastfeeding and spencer helps you with it
a/n: i got a request for spencer as a boob guy and it took my a while to figure out what to do. i ended up seeing a video that inspired this on tiktok and it gave me the idea! 🤍
The apartment was finally quiet.
Not the usual kind of quiet Spencer Reid was used to, library quiet, archive quiet, the hollow stillness of the BAU after midnight. This quiet was softer. Warmer. Filled with the sleepy little noises of a newborn somewhere down the hall and the occasional creak of floorboards beneath Spencer’s socked feet.
Three weeks. Three weeks since your daughter had been born, and Spencer still looked at her like she was something impossible. Like if he blinked too hard she might disappear.
But tonight, you weren’t watching him hover lovingly over the bassinet. You were sitting on the edge of the bed with tears in your eyes and your hand pressed painfully against your chest.
“Spence,” you whispered shakily.
He looked up immediately from where he’d been folding absurdly tiny baby clothes. The second he saw your face, his expression changed, “What’s wrong?”
“It hurts.”
The laundry hit the bed instantly as he crossed the room in long strides, kneeling in front of you. His hands hovered uncertainly over your waist like he didn’t know where to touch first.
“Where?”
You swallowed hard, embarrassed despite being married to him for years. “My breast,” you admitted quietly. “I think something’s wrong.”
Concern flooded his face immediately, “Did the baby latch wrong? Is it mastitis? Do you have a fever?”
“No, I just—” You winced sharply, curling forward. “God, it hurts so bad.”
Spencer’s entire posture shifted into profiler mode and husband mode simultaneously. Calm. Focused. Gentle.
“Okay. Okay, let me think.”
You watched him push his curls back with one hand, already mentally sorting through information at terrifying speed.
“A clogged milk duct can cause localized pain, swelling, hardness beneath the tissue—”
“That sounds exactly like what this is,” you groaned.
“Did you notice reduced milk flow?”
“Yes.”
Spencer nodded quickly, already connecting the pieces, “Okay, then it’s probably a blockage and not an infection yet.”
“Yet?” you echoed weakly.
“We can prevent that.” His voice softened immediately at your expression. “Hey, hey, don’t panic. It’s common. Especially in the first month postpartum.”
Another wave of pain hit and you sucked in a breath.
“Oh my god.”
Spencer looked devastated. He hated when you were hurting. Even before the pregnancy, before the sleepless nights and feeding schedules and diapers piled everywhere. But now? Now it was different. Deeper somehow.
You had carried his child for nine months. You had gone through labor for almost nineteen hours. And now you were in pain again.
“Tell me what to do,” you whispered miserably.
Spencer nodded instantly, “Warm compresses help. Massage can help. Feeding frequently from the affected side usually helps clear it because infant suction—”
You hissed in pain again. “But she won’t latch long enough,” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “She keeps falling asleep.”
Spencer frowned thoughtfully, “There are… other methods.”
You looked at him. He hesitated. And for perhaps the first time in your marriage, Spencer Reid actually looked awkward bringing up a scientific fact.
“What?”
“Well…” He adjusted his glasses nervously. “Technically, stronger suction can sometimes help dislodge the blockage faster.”
You blinked at him. Then realization hit, “Oh.”
Spencer’s ears immediately turned pink. “I’m speaking medically,” he said quickly. “Not—not sexually. I just mean human suction is often more effective than pumps because it can adjust pressure dynamically and—”
“Spencer.”
“Right. Sorry.”
You stared at him for a second, exhausted and sore and desperate enough to consider literally anything. The pain throbbed again.
“Would it work?”
His expression softened immediately, “It might.”
“And you’d… do that?”
“You’re in pain,” he said simply, like that answered everything.
It kind of did. Your throat tightened unexpectedly. Because this was Spencer. Your Spencer. Who stayed awake through every nighttime feeding even when you told him to sleep. Who memorized infant sleep cycle studies before the baby was born. Who kissed your stretch marks like they were sacred. Of course he’d help you. Even like this.
You looked away shyly, “Okay.”
His eyes flickered up to yours carefully, “Okay?”
You nodded once, “Please.”
Spencer moved with immediate gentleness, helping you shift back against the pillows. His hands were careful, almost reverent, as he adjusted the blanket around your waist.
“You tell me if anything hurts worse,” he murmured.
You laughed weakly, “I think we’re already there.”
His mouth twitched briefly before concern returned. When he carefully helped expose the sore side, his face immediately softened with sympathy.
“It looks painful.”
“It is painful.”
“You’re doing really well,” he said quietly.
The sincerity in his voice nearly made you cry again. Spencer pressed a warm washcloth gently against the area first, fingers massaging carefully the way he’d read about earlier while frantically researching.
“You know,” he murmured softly, “approximately sixty-five percent of breastfeeding women experience clogged ducts at some point.”
You snorted tiredly, “Are you giving me statistics right now?”
“It’s comforting.”
“To you.”
“A little.”
You smiled despite yourself. Then he leaned closer, expression turning serious again. The first pull made you tense instinctively, not from discomfort exactly, but surprise.
Spencer immediately drew back, “Too much?”
“No,” you said quickly, breathless. “No, just weird.”
He nodded carefully, “Okay.”
His hand stayed steady against your side while he tried again, gentler this time. The room felt impossibly quiet. Intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Not sexual, Just vulnerable.
Your fingers slipped into Spencer’s curls automatically as another ache pulsed through your chest. He adjusted slightly, stronger suction this time, and suddenly
“Oh—” Relief. Sharp and immediate. You felt the pressure shift painfully before easing all at once.
Spencer pulled back instantly, “I think it cleared.”
You blinked in shock. The throbbing ache that had been tormenting you for hours was suddenly… fading.
“Oh my god.”
Spencer looked up anxiously, “Better?”
“So much better.”
The relief hit so fast you almost started crying again, except this time from sheer gratitude. Spencer exhaled visibly, shoulders relaxing for the first time all evening.
“Good.”
You looked at him for a long moment before laughing softly through your tears, “I cannot believe my FBI genius husband just fixed my clogged duct.”
A helpless smile spread across his face, “There are no profiling classes for this at Quantico.”
“You handled it very professionally.”
“I tried.”
You reached for him immediately, and Spencer climbed carefully onto the bed beside you without hesitation. The second he wrapped his arms around you, you melted against him. Exhaustion settled into your bones.
“You know,” he murmured into your hair, “breastfeeding burns approximately five hundred extra calories per day.”
You laughed weakly against his chest, “Spencer.”
“Hm?”
“Please stop giving me breastfeeding facts while your mouth was literally just on my boob.”
He went absolutely red. And then, to your delight, Spencer Reid started laughing too. Quiet and breathless and completely helpless.
A tiny cry sounded from the bassinet down the hall. You both froze. Then Spencer sighed dramatically, “She has astonishing timing.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
He kissed your forehead softly before standing, “I’ll bring her to you.”
You watched him disappear down the hallway, heart unbearably full.
A few moments later, Spencer returned carrying your daughter carefully against his chest, looking at her with the same awe he wore every single day since she’d been born. And when he handed her back to you, his fingers brushing yours gently, you realized something all over again:
There was nothing Spencer Reid wouldn’t do for the people he loved.
with the LaDS love interests, implied that the LI's are already in a relationship w you
Xavier
Oh he's pulling out the puppy dog eyes immediately, lower lip jutting out and ready to start crying.
"I'm sorry." "What? Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Also, why are you apologizing?"
This guy is ready to admit to any and all the faults he's made the past week, from cooking without permission, eating her secret stash of snacks, forgetting to feed the cat on time, etc.
"Please don't break up with me, please please please please-" "Xavi, baby, calm down, I'm not breaking up with you"
Anyways, the prank doesn't even last a minute because you break the moment he pulls out the kicked puppy look and he starts begging for you.
You guys end up cuddling the entire day because he won't stop sulking and being worried that you're tired of him so you can't really leave him alone because this is your fault.
We love a loser like Xavi <3
Rafayel
Dramatic ass man and pranks like these are like perfect tiktok material.
"Oh, you are NOT breaking up with me. I don't give you permission to." "I don't recall breaking up having to need permission from both parties." "Well, now you know."
Anyways, you're both just bickering over stupid shit now. You've strayed from the "we need to talk" to now pointing fingers at who's the bigger drama queen between the two of you.
Zayne
Oh sweet summer child, takes you very seriously.
"What is it, love? Did I do something to upset you?"
Oh, you just know how guilty you'll end up feeling when you keep up with the prank. You last a solid 3 sentences before you slowly turn quiet because he's listening so patiently and looks like he's truly reflecting on everything you've said.
"Okay, I'm sorry it was a stupid prank but I can't stand looking at you this guilty. You've been nothing but an absolute sweetheart, I could never ask for more."
Zayne sighs, relieved that it wasn't actually something major.
"Please, try not to do pranks like these again. I love you but the way my heart dropped when you said those words is not healthy."
You give him a big hug and lots of smooches to make it up to him, vowing never to do pranks like these on him again.
Sylus
Oh, you are looking forward to this. There's a power trip of sorts when you remember how much power you actually hold over this man. And this is perfect.
Some say this might be a red flag of yours but you're dating a wholeass criminal big boss so it's not really that big of a deal.
When you start the prank, he raises an eyebrow. Feeling like it might be a prank since he did spoil you and didn't do anything to piss you off recently.
"And what is it this time, sweetheart?"
Okay ngl, I think this prank goes way too far because he would correct / contradict / defend every single reason and excuse you come up with. That it just becomes a wholeass debate of whether you even have an actual reason to be unsatisfied with your relationship.
At the end of it all, you are breathless and out of excuses. So you just glare at him. Sylus simply smirks knowing he won this 'argument'.
"I'll get you someday, look forward to the day that you're begging for me on your knees." "Oh sweetheart, I'd get on my knees for you anytime, if you just asked."
Caleb
You feel like this might be the worst idea you've ever had, knowing full well how possessive Caleb can get but anything for the gram or whatever the kids say.
"Say that again, buttercup? I think I misheard you."
Oh, the way his voice dropped an entire octave got you both nervous and also maybe turned on?
You try to be strong and push through, repeating what you said.
"Sure, we can talk. Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? Did you find out about the hidden cameras? Is it the new guy at work, did he give you any ideas? I knew I shouldn't have stopped at a few broken ribs-" "CALEB WHAT THE FUCK"
Prank is forgotten, you are now giving him an hour long sermon about hidden cameras and not beating up every man who has any interaction with you.
What you say is definitely passing through the other ear for him, he's just pleased he managed to distract you from the original topic. Its better that you feel responsible for correcting him and being stuck with him rather than you getting sick and tired of him.
Caleb - 1 : You - 0
(i tried my best but i feel like these are very ooc aaaaaaa)
Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, sex pollen, no use of y/n
Summary/Warnings: Missions involving Hydra often go very wrong. This is different. This is worse. This is a strange bioweapon, nobody telling you exactly what's wrong, and staring at the ceiling as Bucky roars you name. It's echoing in your brain. And you love him.
So you have to fix this.
Author's Note: Sudden rush of Bucky content is doing nothing but feeding my preexisting addiction. Enjoy the result of that!
Word Count: 8.5k
It’s not technically babysitting duty. On paper it’s called monitoring and mediating. Ensuring agents do not get off track or engage in unprofessional actives.
On paper, you were supposed to be waiting in the car. But then Sam had started whining about being put on surveillance duty like he was a five-year-old, and you’d ended up walking them through the forest so he’d have company. Then Steve had pointed out that you’d be best at actually finding the target, and you’d ended up fifty feet underground in a Hydra bunker.
And he’d been right, you would be, but that wasn’t supposed to be your job.
You were supposed to be waiting in the car, monitoring and mediating.
If they’d just let you wait in the car, everything might have been fine. Bucky wouldn’t be strapped to the jet seat with his eyes squeezed tight, Steve wouldn’t be standing between you for reasons you don’t really understand, and Sam wouldn’t be on strict say one word and get stabbed orders.
You shouldn’t have gone into the bunker.
You shouldn’t have gotten distracted in the bunker.
“I just don’t see how this is a useful conversation-“
“You don’t need to see how it’s useful, Cap, you just need to accept that when it comes to pop culture, I’m always gonna be right-“
“But you’re starting from an advantage, it’s not a level playing field-“
Sam had laughed in your ear, and the sound was a little scratchy and static. “This isn’t a war, there doesn’t need to be a level playing field-“
“Well, once Bucky and I catch up on 21st century media-“
“Bucky isn’t catching up on shit, isn’t that right buddy-“
Steve had stopped in the middle of the hallway, and you’d almost slammed right into his back, stopped only by an impossibly strong, cool arm had wrapping around your waist and pulling you back right before the collision.
You’d leaned back to see Bucky still scanning around the dark hallway as he supported your body, he’d smelled so good, and it had been an effort to focus on Sam and Steve’s conversation.
“That’s rude, Sam-“
“I’m not insulting him.” You’d been able to picture the shit-eating grin on Sam’s face. “I’m just pointing out that the last time we tried to watch a movie, Bucky got mad at the CGI-“
“It was stupid.” Bucky had muttered, frowning at the air around him “Movies didn’t need to be doing so much.”
You’d mouthed along to his words—you’ve heard them before, and you’ll likely hear them again—and when you’d caught his eye, you’d thrown him a winning smile that just made him roll his eyes.
He’d still been holding onto you, even though you’d long regained your balance.
You were almost certain you’d seen his mouth twitch slightly in the dark.
“Then we’ll find some other movies, Buck, and-”
Steve had turned around to raise his brows at Bucky, but ended up doing a slight double take at the sight of you. Pressed tight to Bucky’s chest, his arm around your stomach, your eyes wide on Steve’s, and Bucky continuing to monitor the incredibly empty hall.
“I- uh-“ You’d been pretty sure Steve was blushing, and he’d definitely been stumbling over his words. “I can- I’m just gonna turn around-“
“Why?” Sam’s voice had been a little too loud and eager in your ear. “What’s going on? Are they making-“
“I fell.” You’d mumbled, your voice a little frantic. “And Bucky-“
“What did he do? Did he sweep you off your feet-“
“Shut up, Wilson.” Bucky still hadn’t been paying full attention. He still hadn’t let go. “Focus on the mission-“
You could picture Sam’s shrug. “Mission is boring. How exciting, Hydra’s taking up gardening-“
You’d frowned into the air. “It’s not gardening, Sam-“
“Right, sorry,” Sam had said your name, his voice at least a little apologetic. “Didn’t mean to shit on your thing-“
“Yeah, that’s not what I’m worried about.” You’d sighed, leaning your head a little back. You’d almost been resting it on Bucky’s shoulder.
He hadn’t pushed you away.
“Did you read Stark’s mission briefing-“
“No.” Sam had cut you off, and he’d sounded appalled you’d even suggest that. “It’s mostly just Tony kissing his own ass, and you and Golden Boy down there always go cover to cover, so why should I-”
You sigh. “Because then you’d know why it’s not just gardening, dumbass-“
Sam had gasped, and it had been one of the most dramatic ones you’d even heard. “That’s not very nice-“
“Shut up.” You’d raised your brows at Steve, who had been mostly trying to not look you or Bucky directly in the eyes. “Steve, tell bird-boy why it’s not just gardening.”
He’d nodded, staring very pointedly at a spot on the wall. “It’s, uh, they tried to make a bioweapon. With plants.”
“All I’m hearing is gardening-“
“Sam Wilson.” You’d snapped, and that had shut him up. You’d used what Stark called your Mom voice—where you stopped shouting and made your tone firm—and even Bucky had tensed behind you. “Stop acting like a middle schooler, or I’ll make you write a book report about the next briefing. Got it?”
Sam had sighed in your ear, mumbled an agreement, and Steve had shot you a nervous grin before he started shuffling back down the hall.
You’d had to poke Bucky’s face to get his attention, nodding to his arm around your body to get him to release you.
Once he had, you’d just kept walking, because you never allow yourself to think about those odd but frequent moments. The ones where Bucky touches you a little longer than needed, or did something protective that he’d probably do for anyone on a mission, but still made your head feel fuzzy and your gut a little warm.
The rest of the mission had run smoothly. Sam had shut up, and Steve had gotten distracted from the whole Bucky holding you like a doll thing by a few well-timed questions about how he’s doing on his self-inflicted music catch up mission, and you’d taken every single moment Bucky interacted with you and locked them deep in your chest.
You’d gotten good at that. You were a dragon hoarding gold, only the dragon was your dumb little heart, and the gold was Bucky’s attention.
He’d opened at door for you. He’d stayed on pace behind you like a very stoic, grumpy guard dog. He’d pulled you back by the collar of your shirt before you could walk right into a trap, and you’d ended up half off the ground, in his arms, and repeating to yourself it means nothing.
This means nothing.
To Bucky, this means nothing.
Then he’d spoken to you, and you’d almost tripped over your own rapid and electrified heartbeat.
“I read it.” He’d muttered in your ear, and you’d blinked up at him with a frown.
“What?”
He’d been looking at you. His eyes are an always little more than on yours, because whenever Bucky looks at you it’s feels like something’s branding on your spine. Sending tiny little sparking shockwaves through your body, making you stand a little taller and blink a little less, because it seems your body simply refuses to miss a single moment him.
“I read the mission report.” He’d grunted. It had sounded incredibly important for you to know. “I always do.”
“Oh. Good.”
And he’d looked really handsome. His mission suit fit him too well. His metal hand kept flexing, and it was making your breathing a little short. He’d been bullied into a haircut a few months ago, but most of it had regrown, and it framed his face so distractingly well.
And that had been the mistake.
You’d gotten really distracted. Even after you’d kept walking, Bucky’s voice just bounced and echoed around in your head, and when you’d found the bioweapon—it was just a big flower, but Sam never needed to know that—you’d been too slow to react.
The spurt of pollen had been aimed at you.
Bucky had jumped in front of you because he was a dumbass.
And now, you were here.
The moment Bucky had been sprayed in the face—you’ve strictly forbidden Sam from called it being hit with plant jizz—his whole body had tensed, his eyes had dilated, and he’d… taken off his arm. Let it clatter to the floor as his breathing became labored, and his eyes locked onto yours.
You and Steve had stared at him, you’d opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, and he’d raised his hand as if he could physically block the sound of your voice.
“Steve.” His words had been pushed through his teeth, so strained and weighted that it had ached a little in your chest. “Get her out.”
Steve had just frowned at him. “Bucky, what’s-“
“Out.” He’d hissed, and Steve—the loyal fuck—had listened.
You’d been carried back to the jet by Sam, Steve had gone back to get Bucky, and you’d had plenty of time to try and work out what the fuck had just happened.
It was a bioweapon. All of you had known that, but you didn’t know what it did. Bucky could be in pain, he could be suffering, he could be dying.
He certainly isn’t okay. He’d asked to be restrained, every time you speak he flinches, and he’s refused to put his arm back on. Steve keeps trying to ask him what’s wrong, and he just shakes his head and mutters something you can’t hear. Sam tried to sit down next to you and he fucking growls.
“Jesus, Bucky, did you get turned into a dog by the plant ji-“
You slam your fist into Sam’s gut, he doubles over with a groan, and Bucky won’t stop staring at you. It’s worse than the branding feeling. That’s always just from you, and it’s always unintentional. Bucky doesn’t know that you like his pretty face and his grumpy words, that you have very vulgar and inappropriate fantasies about the metal arm, or that every time you draw a chuckle or small smile out him it makes the whole world light up.
But this is brighter than the usual attention. This is a little feral, and he doesn’t look comfortable. Usually when he looks at you his body relaxes slightly, and you take that and bury it in your collection. Right now his stare seems to be carving right into your ribs and wrapping around your skin, like he’s trying to pull you apart with just his eyes. His breathing is ragged and loud, his nostrils keep flaring, and he’s leaning forward in his restraints.
And Steve’s a big guy, but not big enough that Bucky can’t lean around him to keep watching you.
Then his eyes start to droop, and you can see sweat stains all over his suit. He’s still looking at you.
He’s flushed and pale all at once, and he lets out a high, almost whining sound of pain-
“Sam.” You whisper, afraid to look away from Bucky for even a second. “Can you please-“
“Yes, ma’am.” Sam presses his hand to Bucky’s brow, his eyes widen slightly, and you feel a little sick.
“Shit, uh, Steve-“
Steve moves without question, and his reaction is an almost twin look of worry.
“Goddamnit.” He looks back to you, saying your name cautiously. “It’s- he’s burning.”
“FRIDAY,” you mumble, because maybe they’re both wrong. Maybe the jet is warm. “Can you please check Bucky’s temperature?”
“Sargent Barnes has a fever of one-hundred and four point six degrees. Would you like me to alert the Compound to prepare for medical response?”
You swallow, your hand curling into a fist to stop it from reaching out and touching him. He’s got firm lines on his brow and you’d like to trace them. Sooth them out.
“Send his vitals to Bruce and Tony too.”
Steve takes over for you, and you’ll have to thank him later, when your heart isn’t pounding and banging in your ribs, and Bucky doesn’t look like he’s trying to fly out of his skin.
You don’t know why he jumped in front of you. You would’ve been fine. Whatever’s affecting him wouldn’t affect you. And he should’ve known that.
“Why does Stark call you Mother Earth?” He’d asked you once, suddenly a few feet behind you in the kitchen, and you’d blinked at him.
He’d only just moved into the compound. His hair was still a little greasy—he hadn’t been introduced to the wonders of coconut oil and conditioner yet—and there was still a weary, haunted expression on his face almost every waking second. He didn’t talk to anyone but Steve because it was Steve, his government mandated therapist because he had to, and Sam and Peter because they didn’t know how to not talk.
But there he was.
Talking to you.
“Because I have plant powers.” You’d shrugged, turning back to the stove. “And Tony’s convinced he’s a comedic genius.”
Bucky had moved to lean against the counter, and he’d still been watching you. It was the first time you’d gotten that warm, bright feeling up your spine. “What do plant powers do.”
“The technical term Bruce uses is chlorokinesis.” You’d started to fish through the cabinets for a mug, keeping your voice calm and even. “I can control and manipulate botanical life. But I’m also invulnerable. To physical injury and allergies, because I’m basically half-plant myself, so I can like, regrow or whatever. I mean, plant powers is pretty fucking self-explanatory-“
You’d paused, glancing at Bucky with an apologetic expression.
“Sorry.” You’d mumbled. “That was mean.”
He’d given you an odd look, and for a second you’d thought he would leave. Push off the counter and walk away, never sparing a glance in your direction again.
But he’d just stared at you with that unreadable expression. And when he’d finally spoken, his words weren’t clipped or rough. They’d sounded almost easy. Calm.
“Do you need help?”
You’d swallowed, your hand still reaching half over your head. “What?”
“You look like you’re having trouble.” He’d nodded to your outstretched arm, frozen in the cabinet. “I can help.”
You’d nodded, he’d closed the space in one second, and his body had been warm. Almost radiating heat, setting your skin on fire when just his fingers brushed yours. He’d handed you the mug with an expression on his face that was almost a grin, you’d smiled back, and that had been it.
You’d been gone.
You’d barely even stood a chance.
Your heart had passed itself into Bucky’s hands, and he’d held it so carefully without ever knowing. He stayed near you and fed your hunger for him all the fucking time. He literally fed you, because the thing that seemed to fascinate him the most about modern times was the food—to the point that Tony put a weekly cap on his DoorDash account—and whenever he knew you were at the compound, he’d make you eat with him.
And Sam had been right. Bucky did have an odd, amusing determination to remain entirely an old man, but it was also adorable and charming in a way Sam simply did not know how to appreciate. You’d learned that—to make Bucky consume any remotely modern media—you just had to let him show you something in trade. You’d listened to a lot of Bing Crosby and Duke Ellington just to make Bucky experience one Beyonce song.
His eyes had been so wide the entire time you’d been worried they’d pop out of his head.
You’d caught him listening to it again almost two weeks later, mumbling along to the lyrics in a way that was more sound than word.
And you’d fallen a little further. Over and over in small moments like that one, stronger and stronger as Bucky’s smile turned from a grimacing, almost mechanical movement as he relearned how his face worked, into a broad, almost goofy expression that he seemed to reserve for the people that sat with him in silence when he needed it, and smiled at him without expecting one in return.
The list was short. Limited to you and Steve, as well as Sam under very dire circumstances.
You’d never allowed yourself to read too far into that.
But it was hard not to now.
Because Bucky wasn’t looking at anyone but you. Whenever his eyes flutter in his sleep, or he wakes up with a low moan, his gaze locks onto your open expression of worry. He keeps groaning something that sounds like your name in his sleep.
You want to help him.
He curls away from you with almost a snarl every time you try to even get out of your seat.
And you’re so confused.
Steve mutters your name when the jet lands, and he’s not looking away from Bucky as he speaks. “Don’t get out of your seat until we get Bucky sedated.”
You nod nervously, right up until the word sedated catches up with your brain.
“Wait, don’t-“
“We have to.” Steve’s voice is firm. Low and unwavering. “I’ll explain later. Stay in your seat.”
He’s not asking. That’s an order.
And it only takes a few moments for you to realize why.
Bucky fights. The medic team wakes him up as they try to move him out of the jet, and he fights like an animal. This isn’t his usual, controlled and calculated movements. This is wild, with roars and noises that are almost primal ripping out of his chest.
He doesn’t stop looking at you, or saying your name, and the noise is almost pleading.
You have to cover your ears. If you heard any more you would’ve damned it and helped him, and you have a feeling it would’ve made everything worse.
It takes Steve, Sam, the whole med team, and a very concerned Natasha to get him down.
And you’re alone in the jet. Left to wander your way back to your room, your hands shaking slightly and your head spinning.
He would’ve been fine. If you’d just stayed in the car, or you’d been fucking paying attention and had moved faster—dodging the spray yourself or making sure it hit you instead of Bucky—everything would’ve been fine.
Nobody tells you what’s happening. You lay on flat the bed, stare up at the ceiling, and your brain begins to feel a little foggy.
You can still see him staring at you. The sight is almost seared onto your vision, and everything seems to be lined with blue wherever you look. He’d been in pain. This building has the most advanced medical technology in America, and these people have access to all the best doctors in the world, but as far as you know he’s still hurting. Still screaming and thrashing, still burning up and probably all alone, because this is the exact type of thing that can’t happen to him.
Fuck. This can’t happen to Bucky. If it was Steve they’d be worried, but he’d be treated with more care. No brutal slamming of his body against the jet wall, no sedative specifically tailored to make him go down. If it was Sam there wouldn’t need to be as many resources exerted to get him down. Bucky would’ve just punched him in the face with no shortage of glee in his expression, and everyone would be fine.
But Bucky’s going to have to get mental clearance. That wasn’t the Soldier, but they’ll be worried it was. You’d still seen Bucky behind his eyes—simply a panicked and desperate version of him—but no one’s going to see that but you. Even Steve will elect to be safe rather than sorry.
You’d fucked it up for him. He’d been doing so well, and you’d fucked it up with your dumb, distracting infatuation. And you don’t even know if he’s still in pain.
“FRIDAY?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even in the silence, but the AI hears you anyway.
“How can I help you, Mother Earth?”
You’re going to need to stab Tony later. Right now you have bigger worries.
“Is Bucky okay?”
“I’m sorry, agent,” FRIDAY says your last name, and her voice doesn’t sound very sorry. “I have been blocked from sharing any information about Sargent Barnes with you indefinitely.”
You sit up on the bed, glaring around the room. “I’m- what? Why would- what? Who blocked me?”
“The order was issued by Agent Romanov.”
“Can you please unblock me?”
“Unfortunately not. Your admin privileges have been removed from my system until further notice.”
You gape at the ceiling. “Who did that?”
“Dr. Banner put in the request, and it was approved by Mr. Stark. You are also under strict orders not to leave your quarters. I have an audio recording from Mr. Stark for you that can be played upon request. Would you-“
“Play it.” You snap, then flinch at your own harsh tone. “Sorry. Please play it.”
“Hey, Mom.” Tony’s voice fills the room, the usual light apathy in his voice filled with something heavier. Almost tired. You almost forget to be mad about him calling you mom. “Before you get all pissed and turn my house into the Amazon, we didn’t want to do this. Tall, dark, and murdery keeps saying your name, and until we work out what’s wrong with him I’m not comfortable having you wander around. Sorry.”
The audio clicks off, and Tony’s getting stabbed twice now.
“FRIDAY,” you chose your words carefully, keeping your tone even and natural. “Can you please tell me who’s near residential room sixty-seven?”
“Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark are standing the hall, Dr. Banner recently entered the room, and Agent Romanov just left the wing.”
“Can you patch me to Natasha, please?”
“I am alerting the agent of your request now.”
It takes a long, painful second, but Natasha picks up. You barely wait for the static hum of the call to fill the room before you’re talking, staring at the corner of your room where you know Tony keeps the camera.
“What’s wrong with him.”
Natasha sighs over the speaker. “I can’t tell you that,” she says your name in a worryingly gentle voice, and your hands curl back into fists. “You know I can’t.”
“I’m not-“ You swallow, holding your gaze on the camera. “Please. Just tell me what’s going on-“
“We’re going to fix it. Tony and Steve are looking at options-“
“Options for what?” Your voice is pleading. You don’t care. “Nat, I’m can’t- I’m really worried-“
“I know you are.” Her voice is still gentle. You can taste bile in your throat. “Which is why we can’t tell you. I’m-“
“Don’t say sorry.” You snap. “Just, just tell me he’s okay. Please.”
There’s a long silence. It’s an answer enough, and it sinks too deep into your skin.
Natasha’s a good liar.
Why can’t she just lie.
“He will be okay.” Her tone is cautious, and you can picture her frown. “We’ll make sure he’s okay.”
“Can I help?” You whisper. “With anything? Please?”
She’s silent again. You’re going to throw up.
“Nat-“
“I’ll call you back.”
The line goes dead, and that time, she’d lied. She doesn’t call you back. Time drags on and comes to odd, stuttering halts as you sit in the silence, and when you finally clear your throat and sit up once more, it’s dark outside.
“FRIDAY, can you please give me the feed of the hallway outside residential room sixty-seven?”
The AI doesn’t bother to answer you, silently patching you through.
You don’t think she’s really supposed to. But she seems to like that you say please.
Natasha, Steve, and Bruce are huddled outside of Bucky’s room, their voices low, but not enough for FRIDAY not to pick up the audio.
“He’s not getting any better.” Bruce mutters, his head turned down. You can see him fidgeting with his glasses, and you can picture the frown on his face. “And I am beginning to worry. There’s just- there’s nothing else I can do.”
Steve shakes his head, and the panic in his voice sounds a lot like the wired, tense little bubbles rising in your throat. “But- Bruce there’s got to be another option, we work in a miracle factory-“
“And I’m afraid I’m out of them, Cap. I’m sorry, it’s- it’s the only option.” Bruce sighs. “Hydra was very thorough.”
There’s a long moment of silence you can’t understand, the hum of the audio clashing horribly with the ringing in your ears, and then-
“He won’t take anyone else?” Natasha sounds desperate. It’s louder than an alarm echoing through the compound. “What about- Have we tried the pocket pussy?”
“He broke it.” Steve mutters, his face red, and a lot of things click into place at once.
The heavy breathing, and tension in his body, and animalistic sounds and behaviors. The dilated eyes, and restraints, and intense gaze.
Lustful gaze.
Oh.
Fuck.
“And Bucky’s been very clear with us that he refuses to do… that with anyone but her.” Steve’s still talking. The room around you is a little hazy. “Tony even offered to hire someone, and he said he’d rather uh, castrate himself.”
Natasha lets out a slow breath, her words slow and careful. “She’d say yes-“
“I know she would, Nat, that’s not my worry.” Steve shakes his head, frowning at the door. “She’d say yes to help him, and he’d- It would break him. If that was it.”
“And I’m trying to get it into your skull, Rogers, that wouldn’t be it-“
“You don’t know that-“
Natasha lets out a dry laugh. “I’m pretty sure I do. You’d have to be blind not to see it-“
“I’m not blind, I just don’t want Bucky to get hurt-“
“He wouldn’t get hurt, that’s what I’m saying-“
“And when he does? We can’t kick either of them out, and he- You don’t know how serious it is for him, Nat.” Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “He called it a love a first sight thing.”
Natasha rolls her eyes. “That probably makes two of them.”
And Natasha says your name. Everything slows, but not like in a movie. More like being underwater, where it’s just a little harder to see and hear, and you’re pushing against something that all around you, and it’s cool and easy but you’re drowning-
Then you breach the surface.
And the world becomes too fast around you as Natasha just keeps talking.
“She was begging me to help, Steve. She wouldn’t regret it-“
“And Barnes is running out time.” Bruce jumps in, giving Natasha an apologetic look. “I don’t believe he’ll allow another, no matter what levels or heights his desperation reaches, especially if he’s as… infatuated as you say.”
“He is.” Steve mumbles. “It’s… Geez, Bruce, he’s like a lost puppy.”
“So let’s go get his owner.” Natasha gives Steve a pointed look, and you swallow. “She at least deserves a choice.”
You.
You deserve the choice.
The feed drops black, and you’re going to get a choice.
It’s barely a choice. It’s more of an instinct. Steve and Bruce shuffle into your room with nervous smiles, explain the situation—you don’t want to give away that you’d been spying, it would likely just make things more complicated—and the words are Bucky’ll only, well, he’s refusing anyone but you are barely out of Steve’s mouth before you nod.
You say yes. And Steve stares at you, opening his mouth to say something he seems to think better of, and you hold is gaze.
You mean it.
And no amount of shock over the situation, no amount of stunning revelations or Tony’s worrying about you coming out, no pun intended, right side up will make you not mean it.
They give you an escape plan.
You won’t use it.
Bucky’s entirely naked when you walk into his room. Pulling a blanket over his lap before your eyes can wander further down from his darkened, painfully handsome face and broad chest. He’s sitting tall and rigid on the edge of his mattress, almost tracking your every movement as you walk through the door, jaw ticking when it closes behind you.
“You shouldn’t be in here.” He mutters. “I told Steve I’d be alright-“
“Steve told me you’re in love with me,” you blurt, and Bucky stares at you.
You hadn’t meant to just say it. You’d been planning a large build up, where he’d accuse you of pitying him and you’d say I don’t pity you, I love you, and I know you love me too.
But his first few words had been barely a rasp. He was flushed all over his body, his breathing was somehow far too deep and shallow all at once, and you can see the muscles twitching in his body. He seems to be forcing himself to barely even shift on the bed, and the mattress is creaking under the weight of his metal arm.
He put the metal arm back on.
Based on how the sheets are stained and the blanket over his lap has shifted, you have a good idea why.
Your knees are a little weak from just the sight of him.
And it’s no longer just Bucky who needs the whole we’re both idiots, because I love you conversation out of the way quick.
“Steve fucking told you-“
“He didn’t know he was telling me.” Your voice is quick, your eyes widening slightly as you cut off Bucky’s growl. “I may have been, um, spying.”
Bucky scans you over slowly, and his mouth does the small curve that means he’s dangerously close to a real smile. “Spying doesn’t really sound like you,” he says your name, and where it would normally be a drawl it’s a growl. Your legs are going to give out. “Hydra blast you with something too?”
“I’m branching out.” You mumble, playing with the fabric of your shirt and forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “Are you? In love with me?”
Bucky’s nostrils flare, and he’s watching you like he thinks you’ll disappear. Like he’s certain you’re a trick or lie or something sent to hurt him, but he’d really like you to be real.
You’d like to be real. For Bucky, you’d like to be almost anything.
And he nods, and you’re lucky the adrenaline and fear for Bucky’s health are outweighing how your heart is going to beat out of your chest.
“How-“ You have to clear your throat, your voice weaker than you’d like. “How long?”
He suddenly won’t meet your eyes. “You gave me flowers.”
You blink at him. “Bucky, I don’t-“
“Steve was introducing me to everyone.” He mutters, bowing his head. “I don’t even know where you came from, but we turned a corner and you were just… there. Like you’d formed out of thin air or something. We startled you, and you screamed. Really loud.” You think your skin might be burning up, but Bucky’s voice has a soft sort of fondness to it that keeps you from exploding on the spot. “You were really pissed, yelling at Steve about how he should know better, and your hands were full. You handed me your flowers, and you shoved Steve. He didn’t budge, and that just made you angrier. Another flower grew out of the wall. You gave me that one too.”
“Oh.” You whisper, and Bucky just nods. “And you- when did you-“
“The moment you screamed.” He frowns at himself, shaking his head. “Not because of the scream, it was a- You weren’t afraid. You screamed but you were mostly just angry, and you gave me flowers. Helped that you were beautiful.”
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I-“ You swallow. “I thought you didn’t remember that. You asked me what my powers were-“
Bucky’s flush deepens. “Just wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.” You swallow, titling your head at him. “And- When you jumped in front of me-“
“Instinct.” He’s glaring at the floor like it’s personally responsible for this whole situation. “Didn’t think. Saw you were going to be hit. Jumped.”
His words are starting to become more and more clipped and strained, as if your very presence is bending him to a snapping point.
“That wasn’t very smart, Barnes.”
“I know.” He mumbles, shoulder dropping like he’s trying to cave in on his own body, and you sigh.
“But I get it. And I- I just don’t want- I need you, Bucky. Don’t do that again.“
He nods, you don’t think he actually heard you, and you need him to look at you.
When you take a careful step forward, he glances up, but it’s weary.
“You grabbed my mug.” You whisper, giving him plenty of time to stop you before you’re standing between his legs. He doesn’t, and you take his face in your hands, your smile widening as he stares at you. “It felt like I- I could’ve died, Bucky. It was… Very big.”
It’s a strange thing to say, but there’s no other way to describe the true mass and power of how fast your love for Bucky had hit you, how quick it had sunken into your bones and mixed with your blood, and how fast your entire body had been rewritten with that knowledge as code. You love Bucky.
It’s just as natural as you need to breathe air.
He seems to understand, because he nods slowly, but it quickly turns into shakes of his head, limited between your hands.
“You don’t have to do this-“
“I don’t.” You shrug, holding his gaze. “But I’m going to. Because I love you.”
He grunts, his body almost vibrating under your touch, a visible spasm wracking his body at the words. “I- Not like this.” His words are barely audible, pushed through his teeth. “It shouldn’t be like this.”
“Bucky-“
“No. I’m not- I could hurt you. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”
You sigh. “You can’t hurt me-“
He lets out a dry laugh. “As romantic as that is, doll, I very much can hurt you-“
“No. You literally cannot hurt me.” You raise your brows at him, your voice flat. “I’m invulnerable.”
He blinks at you, and somehow goes redder. “Oh. Right. That- I forgot.”
You giggle, running your fingers through his hair and he scowls.
“There are million assholes with a million powers, how the hell am I supposed to keep track-“
“I’m not laughing at you, Buck. You’re cute.” You smile at him, and all the tight annoyance vanishes from him expression in a single second. He’s staring at you again.
And no one’s ever looked at you like that. Like you’re maybe brighter and more critical than the sun, and you’re pulling them in stronger than the moon and the tides.
But he’s still shaking under your touch. And fuck, up close you feel even weaker. You can see every flex of his muscles, every bit of desire in his blown-out eyes and expression, the way he’s poking through the sheets over his lap and how there’s already a dark spot of pre-cum forming a stain-
You cough, your head already going a little hazy. “I want to help, Bucky. I really do, and you won’t hurt me, but if you really don’t want it, I’ll go-“
You’re falling forwards before you know what’s happening. And any yelps or squeaks of surprise are swallowed as Bucky slams his mouth into yours, and everything else in the world fades to humming color.
Everything becomes second to this.
To Bucky.
He mostly tastes like salt from the sweat dripping down his body, but under that is a heavy, strong thing that might just be him. His tongue shoved down your throat and his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline, every low and feral grunt that rumbles through his chest making you moan down into his mouth.
Nothing about this is controlled or careful. It’s teeth and spit and brutal want, bubbling up and bursting over as he nips at your lower lip and you start to grind down against him, his touch starting to wander and squeeze at the skin of your back and ass and thighs, the touch of his metal hand soothing as you scratch at his shoulder, the heat of your bodies feeling strong enough to start a small fire. Bucky’s whole arm wraps around your waist, pinning you to his chest, and when your hands fist in his hair his hips jerk up, the bump of his cock against your core making you almost melt into his body.
He’s throbbing. With the barrier of the sheets gone you can feel every inch of him wedged between your legs, and God, he’s so hard you’d think he was just a stick if you couldn’t feel every jump and twitch of his cock against your clothed thighs.
“Bucky-“ You force yourself to pull back, keep your brow pressed to his as your hips continue to roll against him. “We- Fuck, I-“
Words are a little too far away, and it doesn’t help that he won’t stop kissing you. He’s in pain and you need to fix it, but he also keeps sucking and licking over your jaw and cheeks, he’s dropping down to just bury his face in your throat, and this isn’t about you but fuck, that feels good-
You give up on words. You’ve spoken enough for now, and right now you just need to-
Bucky grunts your name as you push him off of your neck, squirming back until you’re falling to your knees before him.
“What’re you-“
You trace one hand up his thigh, trying not to spend too much time marveling at his dick. You’ve dreamed of this moment, devoted whole long and boring meetings and sleep cycles to it, and it’s still better than you’d imagined.
He’s perfect. Not big enough that you’re worried for your health, but enough that you might need to be carried around tomorrow. And he’s thick, and firm in your hand, and when you swipe your thumb over the weeping head of him, Bucky makes a sound that settles right between your legs-
“You don’t-“ He groans as you pump him once, twice, squeezing at the base of his cock and rubbing his thigh with your free hand. “Jesus, this- you’re not playing fair, doll-“
You smile up at him, and you’ve really never seen anything better than Bucky’s wrecked and desperate expression, his hair sticking to his brow and his jaw clenched so tight you’re shocked he’s able to speak.
“I think you’ll live,” you whisper, letting your hand drift down to cup his balls. “And I want to.”
Something like wonder glows behind Bucky’s eyes as he hisses your name, and the sound quickly turns to the loudest, most primal sound you’ve ever heard as you take him in your mouth in one movement.
You set a quick and even pace, bobbing up and down his cock until he’s bumping the back of your throat before pulling almost all the way off and licking a long stripe along the underside. It only takes a moment for Bucky’s hand to shoot in your hair, not guiding your movements but almost trying to keep you steady around him, his grip tightening every time you squeeze and play with his balls, his movements still painfully controlled against you.
He needs not to hold back. You don’t want him to hold back.
You reach back to hold his hand on your head—it’s the right one, and you make a comfortable bet that it’s on purpose—tangling your own fingers in his, and you start to move. Properly fucking your own face against him, squeezing his hand in silent encouragement whenever you almost choke on him, grinding your hips near his calf in silent encouragement.
Bucky moans you name when you swallow against the tip of his cock, and it’s a final warning.
You moan around him, and that’s it.
He starts to slam up into you, and you have to grab his knee to keep balance, tracing small circles with your thumb to let him know you’re okay.
You’re more than okay. Every sound Bucky makes is slurred and unintelligible, but you can get the idea. It’s odd combination of your name and praise, all sparking further heat in your gut as Bucky grows sloppy, his cock jumping and twitching in your throat.
He roars your name as he cums down your throat, and you need to hear that sound again. It spurs on your desperate grinding—half against the air, your clit bumping against Bucky’s leg if you get the right movement—and you barely manage to swallow all of his release before he’s pulling you off his cock and hauling you back up like you weigh nothing.
The kiss he moves you into—your body curled back on his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist—is a little softer than before, and you think you managed to take just a slightly edge off his problem. It’s still devouring and deep and filled with so much passion you might cum just from the feeling of Bucky’s tongue tracing over your lips and teeth and throat, but it’s slower.
“So fucking good, doll.“ His voice is a growl down your throat, and you wiggle in his hold, every bit of your own need suddenly slams into your body. “God- Don’t know how I got you, but I’m never- Wanna keep you-“
You nod, not really registering anything but Bucky saying your name and a warm feeling of good. Bucky and good, that’s burning and rolling around in your chest and stomach.
“You like that?” Bucky squeezes at your ass, and you whimper. “I’m gonna take care of you, sweet girl, make you feel just as good as I felt, seeing those gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock-“
You’re not sure how he’s capable of speech right now, but he’s talking and it’s ignite every fiber of your body, and you can only barely shake your head, pulling at his hair as you try to drag yourself together, because this isn’t about you-
The sound that leaves you when Bucky flips you over—pinning you between his body and the mattress—isn’t dignified or coherent, but you don’t really care. Not as his knee moves between your legs and your clothing gets ripped off of your skin in effective and feral movements, leaving you a puddle of need and loud moans beneath Bucky’s touch.
He’s hard again. You can feel him poking against your lower stomach as he kisses you into a dazed and high mess, and it must be painful but you still can’t really figure out how words work. How to say anything that isn’t a loud moan of Bucky.
You try to squirm, to off him at least a little friction because this is supposed to be about him, but his metal hand traps your hips, halting your every movement as he hauls himself up.
He’s just staring at you. You’re drooling a little, your chest heaving as you try to get in a breath, and your hands are still tangled in his hair for balance.
You’re lying down, but you need balance.
Because Bucky rolls his knee against your bare pussy, and your back arches off the bed with a gasp that makes his eyes flash, his dick pulsing right on your skin-
“Please-“ The word is barely audible, but it’s all you can manage. “Bucky, I- You need to-“
He nods, diving down to a long, heavy kiss and groaning as you try to grind up into him, but then he’s gone.
Not gone.
Moving down to settle between your legs, his breath hot over your cunt and his eyes wholly black as he takes in the mess between your legs.
“Wait, Buc-“ You whine as he pulls your legs further apart, the metal hand dragging two fingers between the soaked folds of your pussy. “Shit- You don’t- This is supposed to be about you-“
“This is about me.” He grunts, his right hand trailing slowly up your inner thigh, and when you crane your neck to look at him there’s almost a fascination on his face. “Said you’d feel good.”
“I do- I am good-“ Your hips fly off the mattress as he kisses right over your clit, and the metal arm moves to pin you back against the mattress. “You don’t need-“
He latches his lips over your clit, sucking and licking as his free thumb presses right over your entrance, and you choke on the air.
“Bucky- fuck-“
“Want to,” he growls, the sound humming and deep and right over your pussy, and you can’t gasp his name enough. “Hold on.”
Your hands blindly follow his order, one fisting in his hair as the other grips his metal arm, and you’re not sure how you don’t black out.
There’s something a little clumsy to his movements–decades without practice will do that—but that only seems to make it better. He’s not calculated and deliberate. You’re not a mission or a means to an end.
Bucky eats your pussy like he wants to. Like he’s been starved for it, and there’s nothing more he needs in the world. It’s not gentle but it’s attentive, he’s keeping you right on the edge—pulling his hand away and replacing it with his tongue, letting his nose bump you clit until he moves back to pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering cunt—and you can hear the bed start to squeak as his own hips rut against the mattress.
You try to moan his name, but you can’t think, so all that comes out is a high, needy whine.
He understands. His metal hand moves to tangle with yours, grounding you slightly as you hang right over the edge of release, and when his finger crook on that one, sensitive spot deep inside of you, fireworks burst in over your body as you cum with a strangled scream.
Bucky makes a deep sound against your pussy as you start to roll in his hold, and you don’t get a chance to catch your breath before he’s crashing back up to your mouth.
He moans your name against your lips, his cock pressed right against your still fluttering cunt, and you nod.
“Now,” you manage to whisper, spreading your legs widen in a silent invitation. “Bucky, need more-“
Whatever amount of control he’d had only a few minutes ago is almost completely. Bucky flips you onto your stomach without effort, hauling your ass into the air with firm but gentle hands, and slams himself into you with one movement. You gasp as he bottoms out, and he doesn’t move.
Somehow Bucky manages to still have enough of a hold over himself to give you time to adjust, even if it’s not without effort. You can hear the low grunts leaving him as he half folds himself over your body, kissing slowly up your spine and resting his brow on your shoulder, his breathing ragged and sharp as you clench around his cock.
“Fuck-“ Bucky hisses your name, shaking his head. “Can’t do that, I’m not-“ You do it again, and he moans. A real, loud moan. “You’re- fuck-“
“Please,” you wiggle your ass against him, and his hands tense on your body. “I- I’m good-“
“Yeah, you are.” His mutter is filled with low wonder, and it just makes you squeak. “You want it, babydoll?”
You moan, nodding stupidly. “Yes-“
The word is barely out of your mouth before Bucky starts to move, and you’ve never been higher. He’s in so deep, and you’re fuller than you’ve been in your life, and drunk on how big he is, how he hits every right spot and how he keeps grunting low praise and moaning your name against your skin-
You bury your face in the sheets to try and muffle your whines of desperation and Bucky’s hand catches your jaw, turning your head to capture your lips in a long, searing kiss as he hammers into you.
“Bucky-“
“Feel so good,” he mutters again your lips, thrusting with a brutal movement and groaning when you squeeze around his cock. “Jesus, you’re so good, doing so well, pretty girl, so fuckin’ close-“
The Brooklyn accent is coming out, and his words are starting to slur, and you only manage to moan down his throat in a silent plea of more.
Bucky’s pace picks up into uncontrolled and frantic movements, his skin slapping against yours as his metal arm snaked around your stomach and his fingers start to rub furious, impossibly fast circles around your clit-
Your second orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, and the only thing in the world is the dizzying and perfect pleasure washing over your body as Bucky roars your name, something warm filling you up and dripping down your thighs with your own release.
Bucky tries to move away—pulling out and pushing off of where he’s wrapped himself around your body—but you grab his arm, keeping him splayed over you.
“Need to clean you up-“
“I’ll be okay,” you mumble, a dazed smile covering your lips as you reach back, trailing your finger through his hair. “Stay.”
He pauses, but only for a second. Then his weight is settles back over your body, and everything is alright.
Bucky’s alright. His cock in still twitching and jumping near your ass, and you think it’ll take a while to fully fuck the bioweapon out of his system, but you’re more than up to the task. For now you can just drown in his warmth, half petting his hair and humming as his lips trail over your shoulder in featherlight kisses.
“Did you mean it?”
You twist your head, a small frown on your face. “Mean-“
“The-“ He sighs, staring at you like he’s trying to pry something inside of you out. “The thing.”
“That I love you?”
Bucky’s throat bobs, and he nods.
“Of course I did.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth that takes only second to turn into Bucky rolling your onto your back, his tongue pressing on your lower lip in a silent request-
You push on his chest slightly, holding his gaze as he pulls back with a frown.
“Did you mean it?”
He looks almost offended. “Yeah, I meant it. I’ve never meant anything more-“
You tug him back down, and that can be the end of it for now. It could be the end of it forever, and you’d be happy.
You don’t need a long explanation about it. You don’t need justifications for why neither of you ever said anything, or to repeat it until you both believe it.
You already believe it. And telling Bucky won’t do anything, so you’ll just have to spend a long, long time showing him.
And as long as you have that time, with Bucky, you’ll be happy.
End Note: Love making Steve talk about pocket pussies. That's an America I want to be a part of <3
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