This.

hi, gorgeous. currently daydreaming about steve’s innocent, shy girl climbing on top of him while he’s in a chair and she’s ready to ride him but his huge hands settle on her hips to stop her and she’s looking at him all confused and ready to do her part but he just says “just sit here and look pretty for me,” before he begins to absolutely pound into her, one hand on her hips and the other holding her jaw to make her look at him. he’s just praising the hell out of his little angel baby for taking him so good because he’s just so big. the mental image of his furrowed brows and clenched jaw as he watches her completely melt on his lap from pleasure has me clutching my peARLS

– sittin’ pretty

U KNOW WHAT!! UR THE DEVIL! THE DEVIL!! anyways this request had me feral the moment i started writing it… it gets a little soft at the end tho fem!reader, light choking, hella praise kink, what the request says basically <3 and around 1.7k MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s hard to press down your shyness as you tug the tight elastic of your underwear down your calves. They pool at your ankles. You step out of them and resist the urge to cave in and cover yourself. 

“C’mon, c’mere sweet girl,” Steve says softly, his hands smoothing over the top of his tan hairy thighs. He pats them to urge you over. 

Everything feels a bit stilted as you tiptoe over to the big comfy armchair he’s seated on, with his thighs parted. You can feel a surge of slick between your thighs at the sight of his aching cock, the head all pink and drippy just for you. It lies back against his happy trail, the vein on the side prominent. 

Steve offers you his hand, palm up. You take it and let your knees gently find either side of his hips, hovering hesitantly above him. Heat swirls between you, mixing with the fog of lust that emanates heavily from Steve. His adoring face gazes up at you, but his are eyes dark in a way that makes your tummy twist up. 

“Hi, pretty.” He murmurs, guiding your face down for a kiss. You sigh into it sweetly, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Hi.” You whisper back, against his lips. His kiss and reverent gaze give you courage, leaning back to plant one hand on his knee. Your other hand reaches between your two bodies and curls around his throbbing cock. It’s warm and hard, twitching at the sudden stimulation. Steve hisses lowly, his tummy flexing as pleasure jolts through him. 

Even though you’re shy, that doesn’t mean you’re not impatient. Today, there will be no working him up til he’s begging to be inside you, no matter how much you desperately want to. Instead, you waste no time, tilting your hips forward to let the head of his cock catch against your entrance in a way that makes you moan. Your thighs ache a little with the slow pace you lower yourself — but Steve’s cock is always a stretch. 

It stings, just the slightest, but enough to make you revel in it. You sink down, hand shifting forward to hold his hip to prop yourself up, and your eyes flutter shut in pure ecstasy as his hard cock stretches you open— unaware of how Steve fights to keep his eyes open, drinking in every minuscule expression on your face. 

“That’s it, honey,” He coos, sweeping his hand up your hip to tug you down an inch more. You mewl, body shuddering as you clench around him. It feels fucking mind-melting how good he feels filling you up. “That’sssss it.” 

You’re whimpering by the time he’s fully hilted in you, your thighs pressed down against his own. Steve’s panting a bit, hairy chest rising and falling as he struggles to keep himself in control. You’re so wet, so warm, and god, you’re still so shy even when you’re sitting on his cock — averting your eyes even as your tight little hole clenches around him. When did he get so lucky?

Try as you might, there’s not stopping the pitiful gasp that comes out when you lift yourself back up, his cock gliding almost all the way out of your cunt. You can feel the mess you’re already making on him, can already feel the subtle ache in your thighs but none of it deviates you from your plan. You’re going to ride your boyfriend like there’s no fucking tomorrow. 

But right as you prep yourself to sink back down, Steve’s hands stop you, shooting out to grab you by the hips. You pause. Shyness creeps back in. 

“Wha…? Is something wrong?” You ask. 

Steve’s quick to comfort, one of his hands reaching up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey, everything’s fine. I just—“ He shift his hips up a bit and you shiver, eyes fluttering closed without thinking. When you open them again, he’s grinning. 

“I just want you to sit here and look pretty for me, hm?” He leans up to kiss your cheek and it makes you entirely too distracted for what happens. 

His tummy clenches, muscles tightening, as his hips suddenly snap up, thrusting his cock back deep into you. You squeal. 

“Steve!” Your hands propel forward, grasping his shoulders, but he doesn’t pause. His hands on your hips tighten as he holds you in place, drilling up into your wet cunt, hard and fast. Pleasure dribbles through your core, hot and melty. His thighs slap against your own, causing them to buckle and you sink down a little lower — only forcing his cock deeper inside you. 

You whine, all of a sudden overwhelmed, and tuck your face away— all too aware of how every time he fucks up into you, you make a needy little uh. 

And, well, that just won’t do. With one hand keeping your hips secure, his other wanders up, creeping in around your neck. Even as he fucks you roughly, his touch is still gentle. His big hands can stretch across the expanse of your jaw— and he uses it to coax your head up. You’re already looking teary eyed, warm enough in the face that he can feel it with his hand, all from how much you’re enjoying it. Steve loves it. 

“Baby,” He manages to rasp out sweetly. You gasp, hiccupy and high pitched, embarrassed by the wet squelchy noises he’s fucking out of your cunt. “Look at you, my baby. Doing so good for me, huh? Taking it so well, angel.” 

You lean into the hand around your throat further, letting him curl his fingers around it a bit tighter. One of your hands flies up to grasp his wrist, needing, craving the connection. 

“Steve,” you cry, delirious from the pleasure. His cock fills you over and over, unravelling you from the inside. “Steve,” You repeat his name uselessly, mouth hanging open as a whiney moan takes over. 

“I know, I know.” He coos, sweet as he can be while ruining you on his cock. He’s got a furrow in his brow, his jaw set, perfect brown eyes searching your face— always looking for which button to press next, which way to make it better for you. God, you love him. 

“So fucking good, isn’t it angel?” He grunts. “Perfect fuckin’ cunt, just made to take my cock, isn’t she?” 

“Yes!” you keen, the words tearing from your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck,” Pathetic whimpery noises flow out freely, your grip around his wrist tightening as you feel heat gather low in your tummy. 

“G-God, fuck,” Steve groans, the first hint of desperation leaking into his words. His hand around your throat tightens in the slightest, a soft pressure that has your head spinning. “Can fucking feel you getting close.” 

His words make you moan, your thighs slipping further down — your hand shoots out to brace against the arm of the chair, desperate to keep him going, to reach your peak. 

“Your—“ A whimper slips into his voice. “Fuck. Your pussy gets all tight when she wants to cum— y’wanna cum?” 

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished his sentence. With how hard he’s fucking you, hips thrusting up against yours, it’s a wonder he can even see it. You whimper out a “Yes.” just in case. 

“I know you do.” He groans loudly. “Deserve to, too. You’ve been so good, so fucking good, yeah?” 

His hand holding your hip slips forward, snaking towards your clit and pleasure twists the coil in your tummy up tighter and tighter. His rough thumb pushes against it, sloppy but effective. You wail. 

“Y’deserve to cream all over my cock like a good girl, don’t you?” He rasps, throat a bit wrecked from every sweet sultry noise thats passes his lips. 

You’re not even sure if it’s words coming out your mouth anymore, just a whiney mess of yes’s tangled up in your moans. Steve whines, the rhythm of his strokes beginning to falter as his own orgasm begins to rear up. You whine and your hips move on their own accord— bouncing down on his cock to meet his thrusts midway. 

“Yes, yes, fuck, you’re so good, y’look fucking perfect bouncing on my cock,” Steve rambles, that perfect pussy-drunk expression beginning to take over him. His moans turn to whines and with one desperate whimper of your name, you topple like a house of cards. 

Pleasure unravels you. Your hips stutter and drop down, trying to cram every inch of Steve into you as you can, while your other hand claws weakly at his tummy. Heat scorches every nerve inside you, delicious and overwhelming all at once. 

The scratch of your nails, the clench of your wet cunt, the pitiful crying noise you make, all of it sets Steve off — his back arching and hips bucking up, trying to get more of your hot, wet pussy. His face screws up, a high whine tearing out his throat as his hands grapple to circle around your back, trying to get you closer.

It’s a sweat press of skin, chest to chest. You twitch and moan, face tucked away safely in his neck, as Steve lets all his noises out into the curve of your own. It’s deeply intimate — enough to make your shyness peek back up when Steve digs his face out after a minute of laboured breathing. His face is pink, his expression blissful. 

“You,” He huffs tiredly, eyes scanning your face worriedly. “You okay? Wasn’t too rough?” 

You melt a bit, a breathy laugh escaping you. “Yeah, I’m okay.” You chuckle. Nerves rear their ugly head within you before you can flatten them. “Was I— that was good?” You check. 

Steve laughs softly, nuzzling in closer to you. He smells fantastic. You can’t help how you mirror him, nosing along his cheek, letting your eyes slip shut. 

“Baby, I think you melted my brain.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

In the Sheets | Azriel x reader

Summary: To put it in SJM's words: Azriel is a freak *wink wink nudge nudge* and his mate is a lucky lucky girl

A/N: This is honest-to-god faerie p0rn and it gets progressively worse. It's filth. No plot whatsoever. Don't come at me, I'm ovulating and have therefore decided to dump all the smut into one glorious fic. You're welcome.

(public service announcement: the smut does NOT contain degradation and/or the daddy kink because I don't roll that way and therefore our girl Y/N doesn't either)

Word count: 3506

Warnings: SMUT (18+!!!) it's nothing hardcore, just a lot of it, so (respectfully) fuck off if you're under 18

-

"So, enough with the chitchat," Mor proclaimed as she set her empty glass down on the table harder than necessary and proceeded to lean forward as though scheming. "You've been mated to Azriel for over a year now, and so far, I've been patient with you." Y/N blinked slowly, and Mor made a sound that immediately disproved her previous claim of patience. "What's it like?"

Feyre giggled from where she dipped into her third drink of the night, but Nesta sat quietly, a look of mild interest in her eyes as she locked them on Y/N.

An uncertain expression had entered the face of Azriel’s mate. "What's what like?"

Mor huffed. "What's he like. Azriel. The sex." Her eyes seemed aflame with a mixture of wine and the warm glow of Rita's faelights as she stared at her friend as though expecting her to sprout horns any moment now. "Is it good?"

Feyre sighed, though she couldn't quite keep the amusement from bleeding into her words. "Mor, that's an incredibly invasive question."

"And also unnecessary," Nesta added, her voice calm as she stirred the very tip of her finger around the clear contents of her glass. "We didn't see them for almost six months when their bond snapped. Of course it's good."

"But I'm so curious." Y/N smiled into her drink at the deep sigh Mor exhaled. "It's Azriel. The man's been a mystery for more than 500 years and now we finally have an agent on the inside."

"An agent?" Feyre asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, you know what I mean." Mor waved a dismissive hand, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "I desperately need some details."

-

"Arch your back for me."

The soft fabric of the sheets brushed against her skin as Y/N stretched out her arms and let her body glide to the mattress in a slow arch from where she kneeled before him. She could feel the rough skin of scarred hands on her, broad palms pushing down the length of her back to follow the curve of her spine before retreating to hold her hips as though they'd been carved from the most precious of gems.

Her cheek lay pressed to the pillow, her hands twisted into the sheets, and when she felt featherlight kisses on the base of her spine, her back arched further down.

"You're so beautiful like this," Azriel breathed into her skin as his knee appeared between her legs to nudge them further apart. She felt him then, hard and heavy against her centre, and she shivered when he pushed forward to run his length through her folds once, twice, three times.

She sighed his name, closing her eyes at the heavy drag of him against the most sensitive part of her body, and when he finally nudged at her entrance, she did her best not to thrust her hips backwards.

Azriel hooked his hands into the flesh of her ass, grip firm enough to leave red marks, firm enough to sting in just the right way, and when he loosened his right hand, she knew what was to come.

His palm made sharp contact with her skin, and she couldn't help the quiet moan that passed her lips when he repeated it and her body gave a slight jolt.

He gripped her tighter then, pulling her apart. His voice was quiet when he spoke, deep enough to fog her mind with his words.

"Ready for me, my love?"

She was certain he felt her overwhelming need for him pulsing through the bond, because the breathless "yes" had barely just left her lips when he buried himself to the hilt with a single long thrust. She curled her fingers harder into the sheets and the moan that tore through her had Azriel's hands on her tighten even further.

As he ground into her with one harsh snap of his hips after the other, and as she moaned her pleasure into the pillows, she relished in the thought of finding his fingerprints glowing on her skin later.

-

"Don't close your eyes. Look at us."

When she pulled open her eyes, the world lay on its side and the picture that revealed itself to her brought heat to even the last inch of her body.

She'd been wondering why Azriel had relocated the huge, golden mirror that Feyre and Rhys had gifted them for Solstice, but as her gaze caught on the delicate golden edges now, she understood.

She caught her own gaze, and the version of her that was caught inside that magnificent mirror seemed delighted at the fact. She lay on her back, her head turned to the side, her legs wrapped around Azriel while he kept his own face buried in the side of her neck she couldn't see.

She licked her lips at the image. At the sinful roll of Azriel's hips, burying himself again and again in slow thrusts that had her mind swim. At the way majestic wings flared behind him as his hand held her thigh and his chest rubbed against hers with each move.

Her stomach gave a delicious pull when Azriel lifted his head to meet her eyes in the mirror, his own gaze darkened with hunger, his pupils blown wide.

"Look at you," he murmured, his lips close enough for her to feel them move against her cheek. "See how beautiful you look when you take me?"

He punctuated his words with a harder thrust, and her lips fell open at the jolt her mirrored counterpart gave, at the sounds she made, and the way Azriel's hips met hers again and again. The way each muscle in his legs, in his back, in his arms worked beneath tanned skin, it was ... breath-taking.

"Look at this," he now all but whispered as he hooked his hand beneath her knee to lift her leg higher and press it further towards her chest. She dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders at the change in depth, and when Azriel angled his hips slightly to the side, she could see the way his thick length glided in and out of her. He glistened with her arousal, his movements smooth, and she whimpered at the sight of his intrusion.

Azriel lowered his mouth back to her neck and drew her skin between his teeth.

"Keep watching, my love," he murmured into her, and as his hips snapped firmer against her, she didn’t take her eyes off the mirror once.

-

"You're in no position to tease, baby. Remember that."

A shiver ran through her body at the lips that hovered just barely above her breast. His low words washed over her nipple in warm puffs of air, and her thighs pressed together tightly in an attempt to create some friction.

"Azriel," she whispered, a plea evident in the way she spoke his name. She lifted her chest, but Azriel mirrored her movements and lifted his head a bit further, always keeping the distance between his lips and her skin.

She pulled on her restraints, but the shadows that kept her wrists locked to the pillow above her head didn't budge.

Azriel hummed, his wings tucked in closely, his eyes never leaving her face. He was careful not to touch her, his arms digging into the mattress on either side of her shoulders to keep his body hovering over her.

"Yes, my love?"

She couldn't keep the grin from her face as she sent all her desire shooting across the bond, accompanied with echoes of her moans, and flickering sensations of the pleasure she knew Azriel could draw from her.

When he shuddered against her, he finally lowered his mouth to the soft flesh of her breast, though it was only to give a sharp pinch of his teeth that had her jolt.

"Touch me," she pleaded.

A corner of his lips curled into a smile, and she watched closely as he lifted a hand only to weave his fingers through her hair.

She gave a frustrated huff. "Not like that."

Azriel tilted his head, and when he didn't say anything, she knew that he was waiting for her to specify.

"I want your tongue on me," she said, her voice breathless. Tension reached to her very fingertips as Azriel finally lowered his face far enough for his tongue to dart out and kitten-lick her nipple.

Her eyes fluttered at the sight, a full-body-shiver rolling through her at the brief, wet touch.

"Gods, you're such a fucking tease, I swear to—"

A grin flashed, and then finally, finally Azriel lowered his mouth to her breast, licking, and biting, and sucking her until her head swam and her arms shook from his mouth alone.

"Do you want me to fuck you, my love?" he hummed against her, his eyes locked with hers as he once again bit the sensitive skin of her breast, and, Cauldron, the image was sinful. Dark strands of hair fell into his face, his sole attention on her.

"Yes—Gods, yes."

She could only just refrain from whining when Azriel sat back on his feet and took all the warmth with him. He tilted his head as he trailed his eyes along her bare body.

"Open your legs for me, then."

-

"Come with me."

She hadn't heard him approach, the room filled with noise as the crowd of court visitors chatted and drank its way through the evening. She felt fingertips trail down the back of her arm until his hand found hers and he interlocked their fingers. Goosebumps arose in his wake.

"What's wrong?" she asked, having heard the urgency in his tone. When she turned, however, Azriel's heavy-lidded gaze told her the purpose of his proposal.

She smiled and put down her glass to lift her now free hand to cup his face, her thumb running along a sharp cheekbone. "Now?"

Azriel's eyes fluttered at her touch and when she let her thumb slip lower to trail along the curved lines of his lips, he pressed a kiss to the pad of her finger.

"What brought this on?"

"Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?" She noted a spark in Azriel's eyes, his hand tightening in hers. "As breath-taking as it is, I've spent the majority of the night going through all the ways I could get that dress off you as soon as possible."

It was true, the seamstresses of Velaris had outdone themselves this time. Heavy, flowing fabric bunching at her hips, a plunging neckline, a tall slit up the side for her leg to see daylight. The entire thing had been covered in diamonds barely big enough to see, though certainly big enough to catch the light and sparkle as though she'd been clothed in the night sky itself.

She couldn't help the grin that tugged the corners of her lips higher. "Careful. You'll make a girl blush."

The grin on Azriel's face mirrored hers, and when she turned to steer for the exit, she kept his hand in a firm grip.

They’d barely managed to find an empty office—Rhysand’s empty office, to be exact—before Azriel’s hands were on her. 

"I changed my mind," he all but growled against her lips as he backed her towards the desk in the middle of the room. "Keep it on."

Her hands made quick work of his pants, her breathing already laboured when Azriel lifted her onto the sturdy wooden desktop and pried her legs open wide enough to step between her thighs. Nimble fingers bunched the fabric of her dress on her hip, and suddenly he was pushing into her, his groan as sinful as the shudder that ran through his wings.

“Fuck.” He buried his nose in her hair, his raspy tone enough to have her moan as he cursed softly. “I love being inside you.”

All she could do was hold on to his shoulders, her lips whispering delicious moans right into the shell of his ear as he took her for all she was, the desk creaking beneath her with each of his pounding thrusts.

She noticed then that they hadn't closed the door all the way, and when Azriel shifted a wing just an inch to the left, her eyes locked on the wide-eyed form of a faerie standing in the gap of the door.

Y/N didn't know her, but judging by her golden-blue attire she was one of the Summer Court's emissaries.

The unknown faerie stood stock still, her lips slightly agape as she held Y/N's gaze, and when Azriel lay more power into his thrusts and pounded into his mate with the wet slap of skin on skin, Y/N's nails dug a bit deeper into his shoulder, her moans reaching a higher pitch, turning pleading.

The faerie seemed to recoil, though there was no denying the heat that had entered her expression as she watched.

Azriel sensed her then, too, though he didn't turn to throw a glance over his shoulder, but instead lowered his forehead to Y/N's, his eyes on her as he slowed his thrusts to a deep grind.

"It seems we have an audience, my love," he spoke softly enough so that only she could hear. He lifted a hand to thread his fingers through her hair, his grip tightening to angle her head back far enough to meet her gaze. "Shall we put on our best show?"

She grinned, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she tried to urge him deeper with her heels in his lower back.

"Can't leave them hanging now, can we?"

She caught the flash of a grin before Azriel pulled out of her. She barely had enough time to register the loss when he thrust back in to the hilt, and her body jerked with the sudden intrusion.

"Fuck," she cursed, breathless as she tightened her legs around him, doing her best to brace herself against the harsh snap of his hips. "Fuck, Azriel—ah."

Azriel kept an arm tightly looped around her waist, his free hand lifting her thigh higher, his hips relentless. He buried his face in her neck then, his grunts turning into groans, and as Y/N held the gaze of the faerie in the hallway, he ground against her hard enough to have her toes curl with pleasure that wiped every thought of the stranger from her mind.

-

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

Her chest was heaving in the dim light of their bedroom, Azriel’s arms wound tightly around her waist as she leaned back against his chest. She could feel the scruff of his chin against her temple, his lips so close to her ear that she shivered with every word he spoke in that low tone of his.

She moaned softly, her head lolling back onto his shoulder, her eyes falling closed.

“No, no,” Azriel tutted quietly, one of his arms loosening its grip for his fingers to take gentle hold of her jaw and direct her gaze back down towards her centre. “Look at them go,” he sounded mesmerised as he spoke, his every word dripping with desire. “Look at the way they feast on you.”

Her lids were heavy as she followed the direction of his gaze. Her knees were bent, her thighs held open by Azriel’s legs, baring her to the room and the shadows he’d unleashed upon her.

Shadowy tendrils brushed along her inner thighs before gliding against her very centre, teasing with cool sensations and barely-there touches, licking at her skin, sinking into her.

It was driving her crazy.

“Azriel,” she breathed, her head heavy with desire, her skin burning, longing to be touched properly. “Azriel stop teasing. Please.”

She felt his teeth on her earlobe then, dragging her skin between warm lips. “What was that?”

She writhed against him, the urge to snap her legs closed overwhelming at the gentle teasing of his shadows.

“You just want to hear me beg,” she huffed, turning her head enough to catch his gaze. And true enough, Azriel’s eyes were shining with anticipation, a small smirk edged into his features.

“I would enjoy that, yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, lips tightly sealed, but when she felt one of his shadows curl into her, she couldn’t help the breathy moan that broke from her throat. Everything they did, every kiss of her skin, it all felt good—good enough to drive her crazy with it. But it all felt like the ghost of a touch, not the real deal, and certainly not enough.

“Fuck me, then,” she gasped, breathless. “I’ll beg all you want if you just fuck me.”

Azriel leaned down to kiss her then, the hand he didn’t keep wrapped around her waist slipping down to cup her breast. When he pulled back, he tracked half-lidded eyes down her face, a contemplative hum resonating in his chest.

Her body tensed when new shadows joined and Azriel chuckled into the shell of her ear.

“Just a little while longer, I think.”

-

"I wanna go again."

A tired laugh fell from her lips, her eyes closed as she kept her cheek pressed into the soft pillow, her arms wrapped around it. She could feel his fingertips trailing along the length of her spine and all the way down to her tailbone before returning to the back of her neck. She shivered.

"I can't," she breathed into the pillow. "I don't have another one in me."

She could feel his smile across the bond, could hear it in his voice when he spoke, his tone quiet, his words soft.

"I don't think that's true, my love."

A comfortable shiver shook her body when his lips appeared at her temple, breathing featherlight kisses along her cheekbone, and down towards her jaw.

She hummed, hugging the pillow tighter at the tingling his kisses left in their wake.

"How are you still going?"

"They call it frenzy for a reason."

She forced her eyes open at that—just a crack, just enough to see Azriel's smirk. "The frenzy lasts three weeks. We've been mated for a year."

He leaned down to kiss her then. It was slow, lazy, innocent, but she felt his palm flatten against her back, his warmth washing over her as he urged closer.

"I don't feel like it ever stopped," he breathed against her. "I spend every minute of every day wanting you, longing for you, aching for you."

She met his kiss firmer then, turning into his embrace until he pulled her close enough for her to feel his heartbeat against her own.

Azriel turned to his back, wincing a bit when he rearranged his wings beneath him. In truth, he was just as sore as she was—every inch of him aching with hours and hours spent loving, and fucking, and writhing in pleasure. It was the good kind of ache though. The kind he'd do anything to never lose.

She lay on top of him now, her arms wrapped around his neck, and Azriel's hands slipped to her thighs to pull her legs apart for a knee to rest on either side of his hips.

She urged closer, wanting to feel every bit of his warmth, wanting to chase away every bit of air left between them.

“I’m really sensitive,” she spoke against his lips, her eyes closed, her words barely above a whisper.

Azriel stroked his palms along her back. “I’ll be gentle.”

She couldn't help the gasp that left her when he slid into her, intruding her tender flesh with a single push to glide smoothly against the slick mess they'd left between her thighs. She dug her fingers into his skin and Azriel soothed his palms across the globes of her ass, cautious in the way he moved her against him.

It was lazy, slow, his strokes barely enough to call them that, but neither of them needed more. Sensitive from countless rounds and orgasms, she tightened around him just a few grinding thrusts later, her moans closer to whines as she buried her face in his neck and panted softly against his skin.

She shook against him, her body quaking with an orgasm, her low moans muffled against him, and when Azriel joined her, he gritted his teeth as a wave of pleasure crashed into him and he pressed their hips together with a raspy groan to crack through his throat.

"Fuck," he hissed, letting his head plop back into the pillow, his arms now moving to circle her waist.

Silence enveloped them for a while, only the sounds of their breathing mixing.

"I won't be able to walk tomorrow," she finally hummed against his neck, and Azriel smiled as he ran his finger through her hair.

"I shall carry you then, my love."

-

"Hello?" Mor waved her hand before Y/N's eyes, causing the faerie to flinch.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just ... thinking."

It was Feyre who grinned at her now. "I bet."

ANNOUNCEMENT!! ♥️

hey, everyone!! there's probably not many of you but despite the fact that I put it on hiatus indefinitely like a gajillion years ago, I will be rewriting and continuing Through Sea Mist and Shadows (my Bucky Barnes fic)! I hope you'll all come along for the journey as I have some really exciting new ideas that I'm super passionate about!! You can thank Thunderbolts for inspiring me lol, and I do intend on writing more for other characters as well.

I'm temporarily taking down what currently remains of my series master list for that fic so that I can rewrite it completely. Make sure not to miss the new content!!

more bucky brain rot

Pretty Baby

Bucky Barnes x Reader

18+ ONLY.

Summary: I had this slutty little thought about Bucky's leg over your shoulder while you suck his dick...so here's a quick drabble about it.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing something short and sweet. I see other authors do it all the time and it's not something I'm 100% comfortable with yet. I still spent way too much time on this, edited it, and had to force myself to cut it short. But I hope with practice, I can get more drabbles like this out!

Warnings: subby Bucky, blowjob, mention of prostate massage, Bucky being insecure

I'm imaging your evening starts with Bucky being nervous about an event you both have to attend. And once there, some asshole agent makes a snide comment about Bucky and his arm in front of a lot of people. Despite how much he tries, Bucky can't let it go. He spends the rest of the evening spiraling, desperately wanting to escape the room. So when you finally get home, you notice immediately that he's not okay...

"Buck?" You called to him from the bathroom doorway, and the look on his face when he turned to you made you frown.  

The stress and anxiety manifested in the form of a red flush over his chest and neck. His eyes were far away. 

"What can I do, babe?" You quickly joined his side, touching his cheek gently. 

He sighed and nuzzled against your hand. "I'm okay," he mumbled. "Just need to clear my head." 

"Come on," you led him back to the bedroom, gently guiding him to the bed. "Let me help." 

Bucky started to protest, but you kissed his neck delicately while you began to work on the knots in his shoulders. He shut up quickly, letting you help. 

You knew how these massages usually ended–with Bucky between your legs for hours if you let him. But you were determined to flip the script–take care of him this time. He could be a pillow princess for once…maybe he would discover how good it felt to let go. 

You pushed Bucky's shoulder, laying him back on the mountain of pillows piled on the bed. 

"Let me–" Bucky started. 

You shushed him gently and kissed his lips. "No, let me." You kissed both his eyelids, tasting the lone tear Bucky had let slip. The taste of it broke your heart. You kissed his cheeks and his nose before finding his lips again. "Let me show you how beautiful you are, baby. So fucking perfect." 

Your lips moved to kiss the dimple in his chin and then made a path across his strong jaw and down his neck. 

Bucky swallowed hard; this was not how he had expected the rest of his evening to go. After spending hours being mortified, he had just wanted to come home and hide. Maybe crawl under the comforter with his headphones until he could forget everything. But you were having none of it. Your hands gently slid under his shirt, and he tensed. 

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. Do you want me to stop?" 

Bucky bit his lip; it didn't make sense. He had moved past being ashamed of his body with you. He hadn't been anxious to shed his clothes in front of you in months. It wasn't fair that one asshole could change that and put that pit of anxiety and fear back in his belly. 

"Don't stop," he finally whispered because no one was going to take you from him. 

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, and your lips went to work, touching every inch of his bruised and scarred skin. With each kiss you gave, he felt a little more like himself. No one had been so gentle with him, not before you. By the time your lips finished trailing down his vibranium arm, the evening's events were far from his mind. And when you wrapped your lips around two of his metal fingers, all thoughts flew out of his head completely. 

"Doll," he groaned, "can I taste you?" 

You shook your head. "After I'm done taking care of you, lay back down." 

Bucky hadn't even realized he had sat up in an attempt to get closer to you. He listened and flopped down against the pillows as you unbuttoned his slacks. You took your time, but Bucky didn't mind. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of your warm tongue was a blessing to him. You hadn't even taken his cock out yet, but he didn't care. He would gladly live suspended in this euphoria, basking in your attention forever. 

For once, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the pleasure you were giving him, on the whispered praise you gave against his skin. He didn't notice you had completely undressed him until suddenly something wet and warm was wrapped around his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned quietly. 

Your hands moved over his thighs and lifted his knees, so his feet were planted on the bed. But he didn't use the leverage to thrust. He let you remain in control, focusing on the way your movements were controlled and slow, but your lips remained tight, tongue never missing a swipe over his sensitive head. 

Your hands massaged the backs of his thick thighs, and Bucky was only vaguely aware of you slowly pushing his left leg up and over your shoulder. Before he realized what you had done, your shoulder pushed into the back of his thigh, lifting his leg higher as you took his cock deeper into your throat. 

"Oh fuck!" Bucky snapped out of his trance, his hand flying to the back of your head and his heel digging into your back. 

You moaned around him, and he hissed as pleasure shot through every nerve ending in his body. Even then, he realized his leg was over your shoulder and attempted to put it back on the bed. But you gently slapped his thigh, pulling your mouth off his cock. 

"I said, let me take care of you, pretty baby." 

You looked at him with heavy lust-filled eyes, and all Bucky could do was whimper as he nodded his agreement. 

You grinned big before quickly hoisting his other leg up over your shoulder. 

"Oh fuck me," Bucky whispered. 

"That's the plan," you kept eye contact with him while you ran your tongue up and down his cock before sliding it back into your throat. 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut; he swore he was even deeper than before. "Oh–" his words were lost in a deep groan as your finger started stimulating his prostate. 

His head dropped back, his back arched, and his hands scrambled for purchase in the sheets. He knew he must be quite the picture, mouth dropped open in a silent scream, his legs starting to shake as his heels dug into your back. His cock throbbed, and he couldn't help but start thrusting in your mouth. All his anxieties were long gone; the only thing he could focus on was the consistent throbbing in the head of his cock, and the slick tightness of your throat every time he slid down it. 

When he came, white-hot pleasure coursing through him, you swallowed every drop. Your throat contracting around him prolonged his orgasm until he was teetering between pleasure in pain. He could have stayed in limbo forever—head empty–only you–but you slowly pulled your mouth off him and placed his legs back on the bed. 

You gently pushed his hair out of his face as you cuddled against his heaving chest. "See, you should let me take care of you more often." 

Bucky nodded, finally gathering himself enough to pull you closer to him. "Thank you–you didn't have to–"

"I wanted to, pretty baby. I love you."

Bucky pulled you up to his lips, searing his love for you on every inch of skin he could reach.

Okokok so this could be for knight bucky 👀

(if reader is like a queen or princess), Bucky is in charge of your safety, he's always near and one day he escorts you to the gardens for a walk and him and reader are alone and he's so tempted to grab your hand!!!! It's aching to know what it's like to feel your skin against his (hand scene from Pride and prejudice iykyk🤭)

carrot you genius

i definitely followed this prompt pretty loosely and it kinda took on a form of it's own but i hope you enjoy it <3

Yes, Your Grace

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Queen!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but that's honestly about it.

You never lasted too long at galas, especially when they weren't in your own kingdom. 

Not having the familiarity of your staff. The smell of salt in the air as the ocean breeze washed in through your open corridor. The certain click of your shoes against the marble floors. It was all yours and safe and commonplace. 

Being in someone else's kingdom, at an event where everyone wants a chance to dance with the unwed queen was exhausting. You almost never left the dance floor with how many suitors were trying to win you over, to take the seat of King next to you. You never enjoyed any of them though. You knew they were just in it for the title, the power. Most of them not believing you should be able to rule on your own. That it was sacrilege that you still remained unwed. 

But you put on a brave face, a large fake smile to appease them and to keep the peace. If you didn't provoke them, it gave them no reason to storm your castle's walls. 

The exhaustion was evident on your face as James watched you from the sidelines. He was to have eyes on you at all times, especially since you weren't in your own home. He was your protector, hand picked by your father before he passed to be your personal knight until you relieved him or reassigned him. You had yet to do either in the five years he'd been by your side. 

His armor clinked as he made his way to you, mindful not to bump into anyone with the bulky metal. Expertly moving through the sea of royals, he paced his steps with the musicians playing in the corner - he'd practiced this dance with you too many times to count. You'd wanted a partner to brush up on your skills and you'd asked him one day during your breakfast. That was the closest he'd ever been to you for that long.

Your dance partner spun you out from their arm and towards James, who gave you a knowing look when you spotted him. He smirked at the pleading in your eyes and quickened his pace, stopping next to you. 

"Pardon me, Lord Wilson, I was wondering if I could steal her grace for a moment," He requested, the tone in his voice really leaving no room for argument. He watched as you curtsied and the lord bowed to you before you turned and grabbed James's elbow, allowing him to lead you outside. 

"I thought you might like a breath of fresh air," He leaned down a bit so you could hear his whispers as you passed other attendants. "I could tell you weren't enjoying the way Lord Wilson was spinning you around the floor. 

The noise that left your lips was a mix between a scoff and a laugh and it pulled James lips into a smile as he looked down at you. 

Your hand slipped from his elbow and he let you walk just a step in front of him. You glanced over your shoulder, "I appreciate the concern, as always, Sir James." 

"I thought we discussed this," He started, following you as you wandered the gardens that, in his opinion, could never rival your own, "I requested you not to call me James."

"You did," You smirked, stopping at a stone railing that overlooked the small pond as you turned to face him entirely, leaning against the stone, "but I do love seeing you in a fit over it." 

"I'd hardly call me reminding her highness of my request a fit," He chuckled as he stood just out of reach, which you took notice of. You always did. 

"Why are you standing over there," you asked, your smile slipping, "I won't bite." 

He gave you an easy smile, soaking in your attention, basking in it. 

It wasn't that you never gave it to him or that you were stingy with it. In fact, it was quite the opposite. You were always speaking with him. He accompanied you everywhere you went, so why wouldn't you? What kind of queen would you be if you didn't speak with your personal knight at all while he protected you? 

You two had grown close over the years, your relationship becoming more of one between friends rather than one of subordinate and superior. And James didn't mind one bit. He'd never tell anyone, for risk of being reassigned away from you, but he loved you. 

He was in love with you. 

He had been for years and it was one of the many reasons that he was so persistent about protecting you, even when you told him to get some rest - he'd just sit on the floor outside your chamber doors those nights. You started having Steve switch with him at night so he could sleep too, but he'd only sleep for a handful of hours and get washed up before coming back to switch again. 

You held your hand out to him, waiting for his gloved fingers to gently grasp yours. He did so, but at the expense of the tug in his chest. 

In all his years of serving you, he'd never touched you. He always made sure something was between the two of you, his gloves, your fur coat, something. 

It wasn't that he didn't want to touch you, he was actually dying to do so. He dreamed of the day that he could feel your skin against his, but he didn't want to taint your perfectly smooth complexion with his dirtied callouses. You deserved someone with a softer touch than his own. You deserved someone's hands who hadn't been covered in blood and dirt and grime and sin. 

He let you guide him to stand next to you, waiting for you to drop his hand, but you continued to hold on to it, absently fiddling with the leather covering his skin. God, what he wouldn't do to be able to actually hold your hand. To brush elbows. To feel your fingers on his arm as he led you around town. 

"Jamie?" He glanced up from your fingers to see you staring at the still water of the pond. 

"Yes, your highness?" 

It was a moment before you responded, but you didn't look over at him. Instead, you gazed down at the stone under your fingertips, scratching your nail along its surface - something he knew you did when you were nervous. 

"Do you think they're right?" If he hadn't been waiting with baited breath, he would've missed the question with how quiet you were. He figured you didn't want anyone else hearing your conversation so he dipped his head lower towards your ear. 

"What about?" 

"About me," You glanced up at him then, causing his heart to almost leap out of his chest. He'd never been close like this. Close enough to speak in hushed tones, sure, but never enough to see the details in your irises, the individual lashes that brushed against your cheeks when you blinked. "Do you agree that I'm some - some mad woman to not be married? To not have a husband to do the ruling while I give him heirs?" 

"Well," he started, testing the waters and giving your fingers a gentle squeeze, "I guess that depends on why you have yet to wed someone." 

You were silent at that as you refused to look away, but you squoze his fingers back, gripping his hand as you pulled it closer to you. 

He wanted to pull away from you, surely this close proximity would bring more talk about you to the other royals. Someone of your standing shouldn't be this close to him, holding his hand, noses almost touching. 

Yet, here you were. 

"I fear someone may already have my heart," You stated, glancing between his eyes. A pit formed in his chest and he had to ignore the ache as he steadied his breathing. 

Of course you had your eye on someone. With as many potential suitors as you had, how could you not already have a certain person in mind? But that left the question - why hadn't you wed them yet? Surely, whoever had caught your eye would be pleased to wed you. Who wouldn't was the better question. 

"Why haven't you wed them yet, your grace?" He gruffly asked, swallowing down the sudden surge of emotion in his throat. He was your personal knight - he couldn't let something like this break him down. Especially when you were not within your own palace walls. He had to remain calm and collected, at least until you retired for the evening. Then he could let the cracks spread until morning. 

You tipped your head down to look at his chest as you placed your free hand over the armor there, your nails gently tapping against the metal. "That's a sensitive conversation that shouldn't be held outside of our home walls, don't you think?" 

You looked back up at him, almost craning your neck with your proximity. He nodded, dazed at how your voice sounded when you said 'our home.' It wasn't the first time you'd referred to it like that, you did both live there. But there was something about the way your voice lightened when you said it. Like it was lifting a weight off your chest saying you wanted to tell him your secret. And though he may not be ready to hear who'd stolen your affections, a sense of pride filled him. You trusted him enough to tell him this secret of yours. 

And even if he wasn't ready to hear it, he'd protect that secret with his life if need be. Because it'd be for you.

He nodded, muttering a word of agreement and you smiled, but it lingered longer than usual. The corners of your mouth stayed lifted as you pried your gaze from his and released his hand, turning back to the path. You took a couple steps away before looking back over your shoulder at him, your smile ever-present. 

"Let us go home, shall we?" You asked. 

He shoved his nerves down as far as they'd go, steeling himself in preparation for your secret, and nodded once.

"Yes, your grace." He stepped away from the pond to follow you to the waiting carriage. 

He knew the time would come when you'd find a proper suitor, he couldn't expect you to stay unwed forever. 

He just didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.

Steve Harrington x fem!reader requested by anon 18+

You probably shouldn’t have done it. 

Probably. 

But you did anyway. 

The party was loud enough and busy enough that no one really noticed, no one really cared about the way your elbows dug into their sides, parting the drunken crowd as you made your way back from the bathroom.

The lights were low, the room filled with smoke from cigarettes and joints, swirling around the mirrored disco ball that someone had strung from the ceiling fan with a shoelace. Steve was still on the couch, half holding a conversation with Eddie and Robin, half scanning the room, waiting for you.

You dropped into his lap, grinning when he hummed, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into Steve’s chest. He was still talking to Eddie about a new band on the scene when you plucked his beer from his hand, taking a long drag. And when no one was looking, when everyone was too busy talking, laughing, singing, smoking, you pressed a piece of lacy, soft fabric into Steve’s fist, replacing his drink with something else. 

You watched his brow furrow when he glanced down, his other hand wrapped around your waist and he hauled you closer, unfurling his fingers slightly before he realised what he was holding. You felt his chest move as he sucked in a gasp, a sharp inhale of surprise and his fingers clenched around the lace, his eyes wide and finding your own. 

“Babe, what the fuck?” He whispered it, a hiss between bass and drums, his cheeks wonderfully pink, pretty and kissable. He was gazing up at you, awe in his eyes, his hand pulled close to his chest to hide his present but you could see the way his thumb buried itself into the cotton, pressing into the damp fabric, feeling you. “Is this your underwear?”

It was a rhetorical question, you were sure. Because Steve’s pupils were blown wide and he hadn’t had any of Eddie’s weed yet. His other hand was skimming up your bare thigh, fingertips ghosting under the hem of your skirt and he knew he’d find you bare, he had the evidence of that in his other palm and he was so fucking hard it hurt—

“Harrington, you good?” Eddie was frowning at the both of you, eyes narrowed at Steve’s flushed face, his glassy eyes. 

Steve couldn’t talk. 

“He’s fine,” you answered for him, using the excuse of yelling over the music to shift on Steve’s lap, biting back a grin at the feel of him hard underneath you. “You’re just a little warm, right, handsome?”

Steve was nodding, head bobbing and he canted his hips ever so, holding you tight against him as he shifted, shoving your underwear into his pocket and then he was patting at your ass. “Yeah, yeah, too hot in here,” he tried to smile at his friends, standing when you did, catching your hand and pulling, “in fact, I think I need some air.”

Steve didn’t even try to pretend, he dragged you out the party ignoring the hoots and whistles of his friends that followed you both out the door. He ushered you to the car, drove it a few minutes down the street until the party was a distant buzz and the streetlights didn’t reach the line of trees you were hidden beside. 

“In the back,” Steve told you and he sounded desperate, he sounded wrecked. “Be a good girl ‘n pull that skirt up for me, honey, I wanna see how pretty you look.”

same af

I actually hate him

x

Here When I Wake

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Winter Soldier-ish!Bucky, Memory Loss, mentions of violence, comfort, fluff, Sam being a good friend

There’s a gentle breeze flowing into your small Brooklyn apartment from the open windows. The sun is setting in the west, illuminating the sky in shades of pinks and purples. The fading sunlight matches the dim vibe within the apartment, only illuminated by a couple lamps and some candles placed strategically on shelves, where Alpine couldn’t knock them down.

The light sound of an old jazz record from Bucky’s collection plays softly as you sway in the living room to the melodic tunes. It’s a peaceful evening; just you and Alpine together in the kitchen, as she always loved keeping you company when you were cooking.

You lose yourself in the repetition of cooking your favorite dish, before being interrupted by the sound of your cellphone ringing and vibrating on the kitchen counter. You pick up your phone and are surprised to see who is calling, Bucky’s partner, Sam.

“Sam?” You ask, confusion clear in your voice upon greeting him.

“Hey, listen, where are you?” Sam inquires urgently over the phone, out of breath and sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“Um, home? In Buck and I’s apartment? Why?” You question, becoming more confused as you also feel concern creeping up on you. Why was Sam calling? He never called you.

“Something happened on the mission. Bucky experienced a head injury, and was triggered somehow. He’s not himself right now. We lost track of him outside of Manhattan. Stay where you are. I’m on my way to you now. We’re hoping maybe you can help us.” He explains quickly. You hear the sound of a car roaring to life before the line quickly drops off.

Your phone falls from you hand, hitting the floor. He wasn’t himself, which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t him. The winter soldier was back, and there’s no telling what he’s after, or what danger he’s getting himself into. You make quick work of finishing the dinner dish you had planned to share with Bucky, moving it to a storage container to save since having lost your appetite. There was no way you could eat right now when your stomach is a ball of nerves.

You’re washing up the dishes as a welcomed distraction when you suddenly get the feeling of eyes on you. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your hands slightly tremble. Bucky always warned you about closing those damn windows that led to the fire escape.

You gently place the pan you were scrubbing back into the water, opting to grab the large kitchen knife out of the water before taking a deep breath and abruptly turning around.

You gasp, surprised at who is here. It’s Bucky, sitting in the shadows of your apartment, having blown out the candles and now his figure was barely lit by the one lamp on the stand next to your loveseat he was sat on. His eyes appraise you, glancing at the knife held tightly in your hand.

“You’re my mission” he says, his voice with a slight Russian accent you are not used to.

“Bucky? What’s going on?” You ask him, hesitantly after hearing him utter the word ‘mission’.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, his eyes taking in how you’ve relaxed since seeing him.

“Who is Bucky?” His voice huskily asks.

You swallow dryly, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. You set the knife back down into the dish water, grabbing a dish towel to dry your damp hands. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move. You don’t feel in danger of the man, knowing that if he wanted you dead in this state he could have killed you without you seeing it coming.

You turn back and slowly approach Bucky, before asking to sit next to him. He looks confused at your request.

“I’m an asset, why are you asking me?” He asks you, voice soft but showing his confusion.

“Here you always have choices. You can say no. Your comfort matters.” You explain to him, swallowing down emotions as you think of the times Bucky was tortured and treated horribly, given no choices or options.

He looks skeptical, but nods regardless, motioning for you to sit down with him. You sit down next to him gently, leaving a comfortable space between you both. As you take in his tense form, you notice blood on his dark pants, saturating one leg fully. You let out a gasp, reaching for him.

“What happened to your leg?” You ask quickly, moving to assess an injury before Bucky moves to the side out of your reach.

“Not my blood,” he explains, voice taking on a dark tone.

You look at his stony expression and dark eyes, nervous to ask but knowing you need to.

“Whose blood, then?” You ask softly, nerves tilting your voice.

“The targets. They were coming here for you. Had to stop them. They have been eliminated.” He explains, voice steely and darkened.

“You said I’m your mission. What do you mean?” You ask softly.

“Must protect you at all costs,” he explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?” you probe, trying to understand.

“I don’t know. All I remember is fighting, getting a bad hit to the head, and then these men mentioned this address and your name. I knew I had to get here. I had to keep you safe.” Bucky tells you, openly.

You give Bucky a small smile, getting ready to thank him, before Bucky is jumping to his feet and grabbing your hands to pull you into a standing position. He begins to shove you down the hall quickly and into your shared bedroom.

“Huh? Bucky? What’s going on?” Questions fall from your lips as you don’t understand his sudden and urgent movements.

“Someone’s coming, you must hide,” he explains in a hushed voice, as he motions for you to get into your closet so he can shut you in to hide you.

You hear the front door open, and Sam’s voice echoing through the apartment, calling your name. Bucky grabs a knife from his holder and begins stalking his way towards his next target before you quickly grab his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Sam, it’s okay!” You call out, earning a betrayed look from bucky.

“Bucky, Sam is a good guy. On your side. He’s not a threat. He’s a friendly,” you explain softly, hoping he will trust you.

“Sometimes bad people appear good, маленький кролик” he tells you, unsure of Sam and still trying to gently push you back into the closet.

You reach out and grab Bucky’s hand, and reach up with your other hand to gently rest your hand on his jaw. He’s clearly taken by surprise, his eyes wide as they look to your face and then down to the hand gently holding his metal one. It confuses him. No one has ever in his memory regarded him with such softness, and had never volunteered to touch the weapon that is his metal arm.

“I would never lie to you, I promise Sam means no harm. I trust him with my life, and I trust him with yours almost every month when you guys are out on missions together,” your voice is gentle and honest as you hope Bucky will listen and trust you.

As he continues to look at you with an unreadable expression, the door to the bedroom slowly opens, revealing a surprised looking Sam.

Sam slowly steps into the room, holding his hands up to show Bucky he isn’t armed. Bucky quickly turns from you, hiding you effectively behind his back and broad shoulders, shielding you from any potential danger his mind thinks Sam may pose.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” Sam asks, voice low but calm despite his worried expression as his eyes flicker to yours peeking around Bucky’s expansive frame.

“You were fighting by my side,” Bucky recalls out loud.

“Yes, yes I was. We’re on the same team.” Sam explains, lowering his outstretched hands to rest at his side.

“I’m missing time. I know I am. There are pictures here. Me and her, but I don’t remember. I knew I needed to keep her safe, but I don’t know why. Is it an order?” Bucky asks, sounding confused as his hand not holding the knife reaches up to rub his forehead.

“Is your head hurting?” You softly ask him, reaching up to rub his shoulder gently. Bucky welcomes the touch, surprising himself. He nods in answer to your question, despite himself.

“No, man. You don’t take orders anymore, you make them. We aren’t with hydra. We got you away. You were pardoned for the crimes those people forced you to commit. You help people now. You keep people safe..” Sam explains to Bucky.

“Okay, if all that’s true, it still doesn’t explain her?” Bucky says, moving away from his position of shielding you, instead turning so the three of you can look to each other.

“We’re together, Buck. We have been for a couple years now. We live here in this apartment, together, freely. You’re safe here. You’re safe with us. You’re safe with me,” you tell him, eyes wide as you look to him, longing to pull him into your arms and take away his confusion.

“Why am I missing time? All I remember is hydra. Working for them. The machines they used on me. I don’t remember any of this that you tell me. I remember my head hurting, and fighting next to you, and then knowing I had to get here and protect her.” Bucky questions, eyebrows furrowed and body still tense.

“This has happened in the past before, before you met her. We thought it was a one time thing. We’re now guessing if you take a hit to the head just right, right spot and right force, and this happens. It’ll work itself out after a good nights sleep while you heal. We already have some great scientists who want to help you working on a way to prevent this from happening again, so you don’t keep going through this,” Sam says to you both.

Bucky takes in what Sam said, nodding to himself and looking to you.

“Okay. I don’t know why, but I trust you both. I just need to sleep this off basically?” Bucky questions.

You and Sam both nod.

“Yeah, man. Just sleep it off. I’m going to stay here on the couch in the living room, just in case you need something.” Sam states, looking to you for your approval. You nod your head, reaching to your bed to grab an extra pillow and a blanket for him. Handing these to him, Sam nods in thanks and excuses himself to the living room.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up” you find yourself saying. Moving to the closet and grabbing out Bucky’s most comfy pair of sweats and a soft t-shirt for him. You grab him a pair of boxers from the dresser quickly and turn back to lead him to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He silently follows you. During this interaction you notice how purposefully loud in movement Bucky must normally be around you, as the dissociated soldier with you moves with a natural silence to a point it’s almost eerie. But, you think to yourself, that is a necessary part of the job he was tasked with for decades.

You wait in the bedroom after showing Bucky the bathroom and where the towels were. You find yourself lost in thought, once again hating what Bucky has gone through, and how a hit to the head sent him right back, at least partly. Bucky here wasn’t fully the winter soldier, but he wasn’t your Bucky either. Instead he was an odd mixture of the two.

After some minute pass, the bathroom door opens to reveal Bucky, looking cozy as ever in the large sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt you had given him. Even in such basic clothing, he still takes your breath away.

“Where do I sleep?” His husky voice softly questions.

“Here in the bed, I’ll sleep in the guest room sweetheart,” the endearment slips past your lips before you can stop it, making you look away and feel blood rising to your neck and cheeks in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, маленький кролик. It’s nice, someone being kind to me. And you can sleep, with me, if you’d like. I understand that’s what we normally do, I don’t want you uncomfortable,” Bucky says, voice soft and beginning to become sleepy.

“Okay, if you’re sure that’s alright?” You ask, as you take off your oversized sweater to just leave yourself in your sleep shorts and one of Bucky’s baggy t-shirts.

“It’s fine doll,” a soft smile takes over his features as he walks closer to the bed.

You flip the covers over, climbing in and patting the empty side next to you, motioning for him to join you.

He walks over and sits on the bed next to you, pulling the covers over you both as you reach over and turn the bedside lamp off, leaving you both to get settled in the darkness. A few moments pass in silence as you both get comfortable under the covers

“Can I ask something?” He asks.

“Yeah, Buck?” You ask, turning to him. His features are lit by the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Will you be here? When I wake up? Normally when I go to sleep, I lose everything,” he asks you, your heart breaking at the uncertainty on his face.

You reach over and gently stroke his jaw, moving closer to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll always be here, Buck.” You convey to him with absolute certainty in your voice, calming his fears.

As you find yourself drifting off to sleep, you feel a soft kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Thank you, маленький кролик”

Translations: маленький кролик - little bunny

Sebastian Stan at Britain Sharper World Premiere