#COLLISION

[mjfass]

[todays-problematic-ship]

Today’s Problematic Ship is the USS Harry S. Truman

The USS Harry S. Truman is a Nimitz-class nuclear powered aircraft carrier. Late at night, local time, on February 12, 2025, near Port Said, Egypt, the northern mouth of the Suez Canal, the 332 m, 100 000 tonne warship collided with the M/V Besiktas-M. The latter is a Panama-flagged, 188.5 m, 53000 tonne bulk carrier. As of February 13, the extent of the damage to either ship is unknown, but there are so far no reports of casualties aboard.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Collision

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, blood, injury, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you find yourself in the hands of unexpected saviours after an accident.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

A loud bang awakes you.

You're not in your bed. Not sleeping. That cloudy feeling in your head combines with the haze of dust across your vision. The same ash coats your skin, suffocating as you writhe beneath the weight that pins you.

You moan and cough, dizzy and dazed as your mind turns slowly. You reach up instinctively to drag yourself free of whatever is on you. The effort does little more than pull more scraps of plaster towards you.

You fall flat and wheeze. What the heck happened? You blink and try to wipe the grime from your face.

It comes in patches. The big building, the interview, your borrowed heels. The desperation that's now turned dire as you stare at the singed ceiling.

"Dammit," a voice snarls as there's a clatter. Some metal thumps and there's a hiss. "You goddamn--" the man stops himself. "I said no bombs."

"You said you wanted a way in, soldat," the lilted slither returns.

"Don't call me that. I'll break your jaw," the deeper voice warns. "I doubt that thing you're wearing will protect you. You look stupid."

"Well, forgive me for having taste," the other man snickers. "You got what you needed--"

"I don't need all this. Do you have any idea the kinda shit that's gonna rain down on me. You're lucky this place was as shell--"

Your throat clogs with ash and you cough again. You try to wet your lips but even your tongue is pasty with the stuff. Their voices silence. You listen but only hear one pair of steps.

A shadow appears on the other side of the lumber and metal that traps you. Another from your other side you don't hear. You raise your palm helplessly to shield yourself. Blood covers your fingers, one of them bent to the side. You whimper and choke again.

"Shit, I told you--" The bare-faced man snarls at the one in the strange purple mask.

"She was not in my calculations," the other rebuffs.

"Not in your--" the other huffs and stops himself. He drops to one knee over you. "Miss, miss, can you hear me?"

You try to answer and your voice comes out like a fizzle. He shakes his head and turns to sneer at the other man. He stands and lifts the thick pillar from over you, clearing away the rest of the mess.

"Little help," he snips at the other.

"I think you got it," the other pulls a thin thread free of his glove.

"Miss," the other man kneels again, feeling around his belt. He frees a canteen and searches his pockets. He shrugs and pours the water over your face. He wipes the dust away with his hand then put the neck above your lips. "Don't swallow, you gotta rinse this stuff out."

He fills your mouth and you gag. He hurriedly sits you up and you hack out the liquid with a rattle. Your arms hangs at your left side and you grunt at the pang in your bones.

"Zemo! You just gonna watch."

"Yes," the other man answers smugly. "What are we going to do with the creature?"

"You're serious?"

"I am... on the lamb, as you say," the other shrugs.

"Get the car," the man holding you up growls.

"Wh-what..." you can barely speak for the pain. Your head droops as the room tilts in your vision and you stare down at the red stain across your pressed blouse. Blood. Your blood.

"Go!" The man yells.

The footsteps of the other scamper off beneath his grumble. The man lifts you as you put your head back and scream in horror. You feel the blood draining out of you.

"Shh, stop," he hisses as he walks over the piles of rubble. "Don't do that, alright? You gotta calm down."

"B-b-but..." you babble and put your hands to your side, feeling the warm stickiness.

"That's it, doll, put pressure on it." He girds as he nears the blown-out wall.

You whine and quake as you obey him. You tuck your chin down and focus on containing the flow. An engine whirs up and he angles you around to open the door. He slides you into the backset and follows you.

"Go," he orders the driver.

"Oh, Barnes," the man he called Zemo tuts. "Not such a cold heart after all."

"Be quiet," he snips. Barnes?

He slides something free of the pocket in the door and opens the small chest. He takes out gauze and folds it in layers.

"Let me get a look," he touches your hand with his. His fingers are forged in metal. Huh?

Your hand slips and he wipes with the gauze. He hums as he leans in, parting the torn fabric around the gash.

"Not awful," her mutters.

"Dying," you murmur.

"No," he insists. "Zemo, what are you doing? Taking in the sights?"

"Be calm. It wouldn't do to draw attention," he insists.

The other man growls again but keeps tending to you. He tugs your shirt up above your chest and wraps your middle, padding around the cut with a thick layer of cotton. He knots it tight then puts his fingers to your neck.

"Pulse is strong," he says then feels along your arm. You cry out as he touches left. "Can you move it?"

You try and shriek again.

"Dear man, her screams are rather distracting."

"Shut up." Barnes' lips thin. "Alright, uh," he unzips his jacket and slips his hand under, fishing around. "Just relax, doll. I got something will help you until we get you fixed up."

He slides out a metal tube. You squint, your lashes still covered in dust. A sharp point pops out the end. Before you can react, he jabs it into your upper arm. A coolness spreads through your vein and tingles over you, washing out the agony.

"Zemo..." Barnes hisses as your eyes drift upward into the sockets. "... you goddamn idiot."

💞

Swaths of black and grey fold into each other in the abstraction of your subconscious. You forget the ruin, the blood, the fear. You forget yourself as you sink into the pit.

A glimmer of light breaks the void. A thin line between your eyelids. Your skull pulses and you feel as if you're moving. You open your eyes completely. You're still. Laying on your back, propped up slightly, in a king bed.

Where are you? The world around you is unfamiliar. The tall posts of the bed frame, the canopy pinned back behind them, the silky duvet and sheets. For all the comfort, you are entirely uncomfortable.

Your shoulder hurts, your ribs and side too, your face is thrumming, and your finger is on fire. You look down at your right hand. Your pink is wrapped and splinted. Your left shoulder is achy, your arm bent into a sling. The blankets are folded right beneath your elbow, hiding the rest of your injuries.

You remember the earth shaking, the dust, the voices. Those men...

You peer around as slowly the edges of your vision sharpen. There's a large painting showing a scene of ribaldry, men and women from another era sloshing wine without modesty. The furniture is antique and polished, well-kept, the wall-paper vintage but not gauche.

Next to you is a folded paper standing like a pyramid. Next to it, a golden bell. The card reads; ring me.

You whimper at just the thought of moving. You don't even try your left arm. You reach and grab the handle, your pinky kept straight in the splint. You tinkle the bell and the noise rattles in your head. You put it down to quiet the sharp noise.

You wait. You don't hear anything. Nothing changes.

You close your eyes and ease against the pillows. You hurt so bad. You wish you could just go back to sleep but the pain keeps you restless.

There's a creak. You look out from beneath your lashes as the door opens. A man enters. Brown hair, browner eyes, and a permanent smirk written into his thin lips.

"Darling, you are alive!" He raises his glass of dark liquid and slurps bawdily. "Cheers to you."

You blink. You know that voice. The buzzing in your ears clears.

"Zemo?"

"You remember!" He winks triumphantly. "Ah, but you must be miserable. Scotch?"

He comes closer and offers the glass. He wears a silken robe that gives a peek at his fluffy chest hair. You frown and shake your head, grimacing at the ripples of pain.

"I do recommend it. In your state, especially."

"Zemo," his voice rolls like silt in the air. He backs away and turns to watch the other man enter. The one with the metal arm.

"Barnes," you croak.

He stops short and looks at Zemo. "Bucky," he corrects you.

You can only nod. Just once before you moan and quiver against the pillows.

"It must be wearing off," he shakes his head and approaches. He opens the drawer of the nightstand. He takes out another metal tube. "Half-dose this time. Don't wanna make a habit."

He pokes your arm again. Too quick for you to react. You sigh as the soothing floe overrides your pain.

"You do like them sedated, eh?" The other man teases.

"Why are you in here?" Bucky spins on his cohort. "Hm? And why aren't you dressed?"

"You should be praising me. I was quick to respond for her call for help. I did not even fully draw my bath. I came at once."

"With scotch?"

"Well, forgive me for enjoying the finer things."

"You are unbelievable."

"Me? You are the one who absconded with a casualty."

"I did not--"

"You should've taken her to hospital."

"You said--"

"You don't usually listen to me," Zemo counters coyly. Your eyelids droop as their argument turns to low drones in your itchy ears.

"Doll," Bucky startles you as suddenly he's beside you, sat on the edge of the bed with a glowing glass of water. "You need to drink some. Eat too."

You gurgle senselessly. He leans the brim on your lips and slowly tips it into your mouth. He gentle rubs your throat to make your swallow. It's almost soothing.

"We're just gonna get you back to new then..." he trails off into a sigh. "Wasn't supposed to happen." He trades the glass for a bowl. "Soup."

He offers the spoon. You bat your lashes and open your mouth numbly. He feeds you the warm broth. You close your mouth and gulp with effort.

"Sorry, ya know? It's not-- not what I'm doing-- I thought--" he shakes his head. "Does it matter what I say? Look at you."

You don't say anything. You can't. He feeds you another bite and you shakily move your right hand towards him. You touch the hem of his shirt. He looks down in confusion.

"What?" He furrows his brow, blue eyes swimming like water sparkling over the coast.

"Know... you." You utter as your brain flickers.

He shrugs and scoops up more soup. As he hovers it before you, you groan and lift your hand to touch his. You brush the metal plates of the heel cradling the bowl.

"Hero." You say as the thoughts slowly piece together.

He sighs and looks down. His jaw clenches and his nose flares. He glances over his shoulder.

"Trying," he utters.

You keep your hand up, shifting it to look at your pinky. You frown. He does too. He rests the spoon in the bowl and gently guides your hand down.

"Tried to fix you up," he spoons up more soup. "Gonna be a bit."

You take another bite. It's better the more you eat. Not as stringent. Your stomach slowly adjusts.

You watch him as you eat. That seems to make him nervous. You remember him from pictures and videos. On the news. In history books.

"Bucky," you say.

"Just like I said, doll," he affirms.

You nod and open your mouth again. He puts the spoon in and you suck it clean. Now he watches you.

"Sorry about my... about Zemo."

You shake your head and wave weakly. You push your hand on the bed and try to sit up. His eyes flash.

"Woah, don't-- you gotta take it easy."

You fall back and whine. He sets the bowl down and turns to help you, sitting you up higher as he adjusts the pillows. He draws back, his hands brushing your sides and he sits again.

"Doll, you need anything, you say so." He eyes you with concern. "Already did enough damage."

[sluttywonwoo]

collision || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, a little bit of mention of stigma towards sex workers at the end, smut (18+ ; minors dni)

additional warnings: lap dancing, dry humping

word count: 3k

Jisung’s blood ran cold as he stared at you from the opposite side of the room. A similar look of shock graced your features for a moment but it was quickly replaced by a smile, a fake one if Jisung had ever seen one. 

To be fair he had imagined this exact scenario- you in lingerie, standing in the middle of his living room- hundreds of times. But in those fantasies, the room wasn’t also full of a dozen or so of his friends.

When Jisung’s fraternity brothers told him they had a “surprise” for his birthday he knew it couldn’t be anything good but he certainly hadn’t been expecting his best friend to be the hired... entertainment for the party he hadn’t even wanted. 

“Should we leave them alone?” Minho, one of the older boys, teases. 

“We don’t get to watch?” Jeongin whines. 

“Nah, Hannie’s too shy for that.”

“That, and we only bought a private dance because it was the cheapest option,” Chris mutters under his breath, hopefully not loud enough for you to hear. 

“Let’s go into the other room, then,” Hyunjin says, finally drawing all of the attention away from you. “The others are waiting for us and we haven’t finished mixing all the drinks yet. The birthday boy can join us later.”

There’s some grumbling as the boys shuffle out of the room but they do make their exit, leaving you alone with Jisung. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “Happy birthday?” you offer with an awkward chuckle. 

“This is why you couldn’t come tonight?” 

“I was going to join later!” you correct him. “But yes, this is why I was going to be late.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you I had to work! I didn’t know it was you!”

“They didn’t... give you my name or anything?” Jisung realizes as he’s speaking that he doesn’t really know how your client intake works. Is there a form they fill out? Or do they just Venmo you and give you an address? Surely not, right? That would be dangerous. There had to be more to it than that. 

“They called you ‘Late Bloomer’,” you mutter, staring at the floor. “Said I’d know you when I saw you.”

Jisung’s cheeks burned and he scoffs. “Ironic. Yeah, that’s what the guys call me because they know, um, about...”

“You don’t have to say it!” you blurt. “I already know. That’s a really mean nickname.”

“All the pledges get nicknames like that,” he sighs. “Sometimes they don’t wear off after initiation.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You had taken a couple of steps closer to where he was sitting while you talked but you were still several feet apart. 

“Uh, well did you still want me to-”

“No!” Jisung shouts, cringing when he hears himself. “No, oh my god. You don’t have to do that.”

“I mean, it’s what I’m getting paid to do,” you point out. “Do you want your brothers’ money to go to waste?”

“I don’t give a fuck about their money.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

He’s sweating now. He feels it on his brow. “No, no. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

And I don’t want to cum my pants the minute you sit on my lap. 

You laugh. “Nothing can be more uncomfortable than what just happened in front of your, uh, friends.”

You had a point. “You don’t think it’ll make things... weird?” Jisung asks. 

You shrug. “Things are already weird, aren’t they? But if you don’t want me to, I'll go get dressed and we can join the rest of them at the party.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you to!” Jisung clarifies. “I mean, I’ve always been curious about... how your sessions go, like what happens and stuff, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to or that I want you to if that makes sense. Like I don’t want you to think I’m a creep-”

“Jisung.”

“Huh?”

“Instead of a real dance, why don’t I just demonstrate for you? Show you what I do, like you said?”

That didn’t sound too dangerous. 

“O-ok. You don’t have to do it on me, though. You can just, like, use a chair?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “Sure.”

There are lots of chairs to choose from but you pick the closest and drag it in front of where Jisung is sitting. You spin it so that the back is facing him and then run to get something from the bag that you’d dropped by the door when you came in. 

Jisung tries not to look at your ass as you bend down and rifle through the tote, training his eyes on the ceiling instead. He’d already been struggling not to get hard this whole time and it was about to get a whole lot harder, metaphorically and literally. 

You come back with a speaker and set it up on the floor under the chair. 

“Usually I put on some music,” you explain. “I’ll sit on the guy’s lap and ask him what he likes to listen to.” You sit sideways on the chair and cross your legs, pretending like there’s a man underneath you. “Whatever he says doesn’t matter to me, though. I just pick whatever I want to dance to and pretend his answer influenced my decision so he feels like he gets to have a say in the matter. Men like to feel special like that.”

Jisung nods along. You look up to check that he’s following before moving on. 

“Then I’ll stand back up, like this, and start dancing. Most girls dance in front of them first, to make them want it more. I used to get really self-conscious about that part because it feels silly to me but it really pays off in the end.”

Jisung gulps and nods again. He watches you sink to your knees and arch backward, spreading your thighs wider as your back touches the floor. He had no idea you were so flexible, no idea you could move like that, though he supposes he should have assumed considering you literally do this for a living. 

“And then right before I get back on his lap I’ll take off my top. Usually, it’s like a bra or something but sometimes I’m wearing a bodysuit and I’ll just pull it down.”

He doesn’t expect you to actually do it but you do. You reach behind yourself and pull on the ribbon holding the corset you were wearing together until it unravels and you can take it off. 

Jisung immediately averts his eyes, going as far as shielding his vision with a hand.

“Oh my god!” 

He hears you laughing. “They’re just boobs.”

Yeah, your boobs. 

“I thought you wanted me to show you how I usually do it,” you chide. 

Jisung hesitantly turns his head to face you again. He stares you right in the eyes, pointedly ignoring everything below your neck. “I didn’t think you would actually, um, strip.”

Your teasing smile falters. “Do you want me to put it back on? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! You don’t have to. I’m not uncomfortable.” You look like you don’t believe him so he adds, “I just wanted to be respectful and stuff, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sweet. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t seen me topless before. We’ve known each other for so long.”

Jisung is in so much pain. “Haha, yeah me too.”

You approach the chair and straddle it like you would if someone was actually sitting there. Since there isn’t, you fold your arms on the back of it and rest your chin on your wrists. 

“I always lay some ground rules before I start, even if they’re a regular.”

“Ground rules?” Jisung asks. 

You nod. “They’re not allowed to touch me whatsoever. I’ll touch them unless they request otherwise, but only on the face and the shoulders, sometimes the chest. I’m not going to grope them or anything like that, even though I am grinding on them.” You demonstrate with the air, pretending to cup someone’s face and bring it closer to yours before pushing them away. “The whole thing is essentially just teasing someone for however long they booked me for.”

“Are there any other rules?” Jisung asks, trying to seem engaged and eager to learn more about your profession instead of focusing on how you’re riding that chair. 

“Yeah, one of my biggest rules is that the client has to stay fully clothed the whole time. There are exceptions like if they’re wearing a tie, I might loosen it or undo it. I’ve worn their ties myself once or twice.”

“Has anyone ever, um,” he pauses. 

You cock your head to the side in intrigue. “Has anyone ever what?”

“Has anyone ever like, cum? While you’re doing that?”

“It’s happened before. But they usually try not to because they’d have to pay me more. It’s in my contract. It’s also really embarrassing for them and it’s unsanitary- I won’t get into the details but it’s not very common.”

It definitely would have happened to Jisung if he had gone through with it. Honestly, it would probably happen if anyone were to give him a lap dance, but if it was you? He wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“But it’s normal for guys to get, like, hard, right?”

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty much guaranteed. Anyone would get turned on if someone was grinding on them. Sometimes it happens before I’m even on their lap, like you’re hard right now and I haven’t even touched you.”

“Wha-” Jisung’s neck snaps as he looks to confirm what he already knows to be true. He rushes to cover the bulge in his pants with his hands even though it’s way too late for that. “Fuck, I didn’t- it doesn’t-”

You brush it off. “Don’t worry, Ji. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to seeing something arousing. It means I’m good at my job.”

“No, but I’m your best friend! God, you must feel so objectified and weird...”

“Jisung, I promise I don’t feel weird or objectified. Is this too weird for you? Do you want to stop?”

“I- uh, I don’t know,” he admits. Obviously he likes what he sees, his hard dick pressing against the zipper of his jeans is proof enough of that. But he’s also never felt so embarrassed in his life. It feels so... wrong of him to be taking advantage of the situation like this. He should have taken up your offer to go join the rest of his brothers at the party because now he’s fucked. He’s a weak, weak man.  “Are you sure you’re okay with... it?” 

“Of course,” you assure him. “That’s the point of this birthday present anyway.”

Maybe, but it wasn’t supposed to be a present from you. Jisung is so overwhelmed by thoughts and emotions that he can’t even focus on what you’re doing anymore. He zones out, willing his erection to go down until he remembers that he’s supposed to be paying attention. He’s supposed to be learning. 

“So I go back and forth between grinding on the guy and dancing in front of him so it doesn’t get too intimate, and then towards the end I usually- fuck, it’s kind of hard to do when there isn’t someone actually here.” He watches you stand up and approach him. “Do you mind if I just....” you trail off expectantly. 

Are you asking what Jisung thinks you’re asking? Is whatever it is you’re trying to show him so important that you need to torture him further?

“If you just what?” 

“If I sit on your lap for this part? It’ll be quick, I swear.”

“Go ahead,” Jisung says before he can argue with himself. 

He had already dug his grave, he might as well bury himself too. 

You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders for balance and lowering yourself onto his lap. His legs are spread a bit so they’re kind of awkward to straddle but you’re used to it so it’s easy to adjust. 

“Wow, you are hard,” you breathe out, laughing a little. 

Jisung wants to die. He takes a deep breath of his own and steels himself before asking, “what was it that you wanted to show me?”

Your eyes light up like you had forgotten why you were sitting on him in the first place. “Oh, right. I put the music on a timer to fade out at the end of the session so when that happens I’ll grab the guy’s face like this,” you take Jisung by the cheeks and squeeze so that he’s forced to open his mouth. 

He wonders briefly if you’re about to spit in his mouth but to his disappointment you make him bite down on a piece of paper instead. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion and reaches up to pluck whatever it is from between his lips.

“What is this?”

“My business card!” you exclaim. “Smart right? I wanted to do something memorable and so far it’s gotten over fifty percent of my clients to become repeat customers.”

Jisung snorts. “Yeah, it’s definitely that and not the fact that you’re hot and have your tits out.”

“It’s all part of the sell,” you joke.

“Well, I can see why you’re working all the time,” Jisung quips. “You’re very good at what you do.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m just sorry I ruined your birthday present,” you sigh. 

Jisung frowns. “What do you mean? You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yeah, I did! If your friends had hired someone else you would have gotten a real lap dance, not... an instructional.”

“I didn’t even know that’s what I was supposed to be getting! I didn’t know they had hired anyone!”

“Still, it could have been fun.”

“No, this was fun. I’m glad it was you.”

The worry line between your eyebrows softens and you smile fondly at him, making Jisung’s stomach do a somersault. Out of everything that had happened tonight, that was what affected him the most. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes but suddenly your expression changes. Your gaze shifts from relaxed to focused as you sit up and lean in, closer and closer until your nose is pressed to his. Jisung doesn’t want to speak. He doesn’t want to break the spell. His fists clench and unclench repeatedly at his sides. He’s desperate to touch you, to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him, but he won’t break your rule unless you give him permission. 

You break it for him, grabbing his hands and placing them on your hips.

“Is this okay?” you whisper. 

He nods, his forehead knocking against yours. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.”

You swallow hard, eyes searching his for something he isn’t sure he has. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Jisung has fantasized about this moment countless times and not a single one compares to it. Your lips are soft and warm and you taste like that chapstick you always keep in your pocket. Jisung recognizes it immediately because he’s borrowed it more than a few times. 

You moan and run a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. It’s gotten a lot longer recently but you seem to like it. In fact, part of the reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you keep complimenting the way he’s been styling it. He wonders if you like how it feels between your fingers. 

To his own surprise, Jisung is the first to use tongue. He feels your lips part and uses the opportunity to slide his tongue between them like you had with your business card. You moan again and this time you grind down on his lap for real. 

It catches you both off guard. Jisung’s hips follow the movement of yours, chasing your heat even when you lift yourself off of him in a panic. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, trying to hide a smug grin, “it’s a perfectly normal reaction.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Mhm- mph!” You kiss him before he can get another word out, this time shoving your tongue in his mouth. 

Now that you know it’s okay to grind on him, you don’t hold back. You seem so eager. If Jisung didn’t know better he’d think this had been your plan all along. 

“God, baby,” he whimpers, shocked at how shattered his own voice sounds. “This feels so good but if you don’t stop I’m gonna-” he can’t bring himself to say it. “I’m not going to last.”

You slow down and lift your head from the crook of his shoulder. “Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know how far you’re okay with going but...”

“We can go as far as you want, Ji. You’re the one...” you don’t finish the sentence but Jisung knows what you’re implying. It isn’t hard to guess. It’s why he’d been given that stupid nickname freshman year. 

“You’d... you’d want me in that way?” he asks. He’s almost afraid of the answer because he doesn’t think you feel the same way about him. Even if you are down to fuck, he doesn’t think it’s because you have a big giant crush on him like he does you. Maybe you’re just horny or maybe you’d be doing it as a favor.

“Of course.” It’s not an answer that quells the burning questions he’s been holding onto since he met you but it does enough to temper the flames a bit. You want him. It’s enough. “But... you don’t care that your first time would be with a stripper?” 

He knows that’s not what you mean. He knows you’re worried that he feels like it’s inorganic. That it’s part of the job you had been hired to do. But he knows the truth. That isn’t what it is at all. 

He shakes his head. “My first time would be with my best friend. There’s no one else I’d rather it be with.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

[userhangmanpage]

Hangman + Angel's Wings

[sequentialprophet]

When he killed Chuck it was the seatbelt. When he killed Bryan it was the cattle mutilation. Never say my boy Yuta isn't consistent.

[l-ii-zz]

not a big ask but can I just have a drawing of zim I love that little bug eyed fella

I draw him ALL the time, isn't that enough? 😭

BUT, I can share some sketches I made of Zim with the outfit he’s using in the last arc of my AU

[ltwilliammowett]

A collision at twilight, by Henry Thomas Dawson, 1873

[andreafmn]

Collision | Chapter 30

Word Count: 3.7K Warnings: bodily harm, self inflicted wounds, mentions of blood

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life is at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

A/N: so close to the finish line now! Can't wait to have another fic finished so I can focus on the other stories and continuations (and hopefully spend time on my original works 😬😬)

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“What did you do?” Theo exclaimed as she flung Carlisle to the other side of the cave. The walls around them trembled, roaring at the force of the throw. Esme had arrived with just enough time to catch (Y/N) before the girl crumbled to the ground. “What happened to her?!” 

“She… s-she… I didn’t…” Carlisle couldn’t quite find the words. He had spent months concocting the image of (Y/N) over and over. She had come to him every single time. Sometimes, she was happy; other times, she was angry. The worst was when she was sad. But she always came. He’d become used to the mirage of her, coming as far as to anticipate excitedly her arrival. It didn’t matter what she could spew at him. All he cared about was to see her face.  

 But that last delusion had thrown him for a spin. She had never asked him to come home. Not in the eight months he had been there. She’d told him she loved him, that she hated him, that she hoped the Volturi killed him, she had even gone as far as to say she would stay with him. But she had never asked him to come home. The words had taken him aback when they had fallen from her lips. She had never felt so real before, but he knew the more time he spent without feeding, the more the hallucinations would take over.  

Carlisle had truly believed the (Y/N) before him was another trick of his mind. It wasn’t until the smell of her blood had reached his nostrils that he finally snapped out of his trance. He didn’t even register that his hand was around her throat until he released her. “I thought she wasn’t real,” he mumbled. “I-I-I thought she was in my head.” 

“Well, she’s very much real, Carlisle,” Esme said as she wrapped the girl’s arm with her jacket, doing her best not to breathe. “And she needs help right now. I don’t know how deep she went.” 

“This is my fault,” Carlisle whimpered as he cradled his head. His mind was still riddled with images and voices he couldn’t discern, and it wouldn’t take long before he gave in to his hunger. (Y/N)’s blood was the most delectable one he had smelled in the centuries he had been alive. “She’s gonna die, and it’s my fault.” 

“You need to pull yourself together, Carlisle!” Theo said as she slapped some sense into the mumbling man. “She needs you now more than ever. I need you to focus and tell us what we have to do to help her.” 

His eyes flickered toward (Y/N)’s unconscious form. Even with the bind, the bleeding had not stopped, only slowed—it wasn’t tied correctly. The man slowly scrambled to his feet, dragging himself through the ground until he got to her. Slowly, he undid Esme’s work, ripping the sleeve and tying it higher up on the wound. Then, he inspected the crystal she had used, thanking God she had gone less than half an inch deep. But the cut was long, and it needed to be closed as soon as possible.  

“Did you bring a first aid kit by chance?”  

“Yes,” Theo said. “It’s in the car right now. I’ll get it.” 

Without another word, Theo disappeared, leaving Esme and Carlisle to look after (Y/N).  

She looked peaceful in her state—if you ignored the mess of blood that had accumulated under her arm. But she was hurt, and it had been Carlisle’s fault. He understood Edward’s plight now. He understood why he told them all to go when Bella had gotten hurt. They caused more harm than good to people who did not deserve kit.  

“It’s not your fault, Carlisle,” Esme whispered. She held onto (Y/N)’s arm, helping the wound stay closed while Theo came back. "It may seem like it is, but it’s not your fault.” 

“I had my hands around her neck,” he muttered, still not believing what had happened. “If I had applied just an ounce of my strength, I would have snapped her neck. She would have never woken up. I… I…” 

“You didn’t though,” she calmed him. “She’s stronger than she looks, Carlisle. And she wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t think she could make it out of here. She cares about you, you know. As angry and hurt as she is because of what we did, she came all this way to help us get you home.”  

“She shouldn’t have,” he scoffed defeatedly. “I don’t deserve her mercy. I certainly don’t even deserve her pity.”  

“But you have it,” the woman said. “It’s not a matter of deserving or not. She didn’t need a reason to help you, Carlisle. Though she fought it, I won’t lie. She deemed you worthy of her help, and she gave it freely, even if it meant getting hurt. Deep down, I know she loves you—that’s why she did this. You two are far too entwined for her to have left you to rot here.” 

“I should have just gone to the Volturi. End everyone’s misery of having me around.” 

“Goodness, no wonder you liked Edward so much,” Esme chuckled. “You’re both cut from the same cloth.” The woman adjusted her grip on (Y/N)’s arm. Her resolve was dwindling as time passed, but she stood her ground. If Carlisle, who hadn’t fed well in months, had yet to attack, she knew she’d be able to hold herself. “Death would not have been the right punishment for what you did. Living… that’s the real damnation. That’s why you were here, right? But that wouldn’t have been right either.” 

“There is no right punishment for what you did,” Theo said as she joined them. “But torturing yourself is not right either. I told you when you came to me the first time, living with what you’ve done is punishment enough. Seeing (Y/N) move on from you is your calvary. This? This is easy. You’ve done this before and survived. Living without her is what’s new.” 

“Theo…” Esme tried to assuage.  

“No, Esme,” she interrupted. “Carlisle, you’ve been the closest thing I have to family since I lost my sister centuries ago. You taught me everything I know now, and for that, I am eternally grateful. But you did a horrible thing, and you have to learn to live with that. Because if you don’t, I’m afraid this won’t be the last time (Y/N) puts her life on the line to save you.” 

Esme tried to speak up again, but Carlisle stopped her. “You’re right, Theo,” he sighed. “I have been a coward, and I pretended this was enough for my penance. But this is not the time nor the place to speak in this. (Y/N) needs tending to, and I need to make sure she’s okay.” 

After Theo threw the kit toward him, the doctor set off to work. He cleaned his hands with cleansing wipes, making sure not a spec of grime was left on his skin. In the box, he found gauze and a basic suture kit. It wouldn’t create a pretty closure, but it would be enough to help her heal. Without giving it another thought, Carlisle cleaned the girl’s arm, clearing the way for the needle and thread. He was gentle at first, checking after every stab of the needle that (Y/N) remained unconscious. If she had woken up, the cave would be filled with more than just her blood. Her screams would have bounced off the walls, ricocheting to the wilderness where anyone could witness it. So, he worked cautiously and fast, closing the wound before covering it with gauze and medical tape.  

“She’s going to be okay,” Carlisle found himself muttering. He ran his hand across her hair, caressing her like he had done many times before. “She just needs to rest.” 

For the first time in a long time, the three vampires allowed themselves to breathe. Even if they didn’t need to, they had all felt their lungs aching for air—especially air that did not smell of sweet crimson. It was a shared breath of relief for the girl they had tangled into supernatural business. They had always meant to protect her, but somehow, some way, she always got hurt.  

“We should take her back to the house,” Theo said. “She’ll be more comfortable there, and she’ll need to recover before we fly back to Washington. There, we can talk.” 

“Of course,” the man replied. “I am sure there are many questions you need answers to.” 

“We’re not the only ones.” 

They were careful as they got (Y/N) down on solid ground again, making sure her arms remained unmoving. The less she was jostled around, the faster her recovery would be. In no time, the three vampires reached the car. Esme and Carlisle cleared out the backseat, making room for the girl to lay down. She was still asleep, but her heart was beating strong, and her chest was rising and falling at a steady pace. She was okay. Hurt and tired, but okay.  

“I’ll stay with her,” Carlisle said as he slipped into the backseat. 

“Carlisle…” 

“Please, Theo,” he begged. “I just… let me just hold her. Please.” 

 Begrudgingly, the woman lay her friend across the man’s lap, keeping a careful eye on the starved vampire. Theo and Esme had fed just before the trip in case things went awry, but it didn’t help that the blood was so fresh… and so human. She couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be in Carlisle’s shoes. But he seemed in control. Perfectly and completely in control.  

Carlisle looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and he questioned how he’d ever found the strength to let her go. Somehow, Edward had gotten into his head. “Look how much harm you’ve already caused her,” he had said. “Do you want to be the reason she dies too?” The boy had known just the right words to sway his mind of staying in Forks, of staying with her. He had made the older man believe that being in (Y/N)’s life would cause her more harm than food, and with time, he’d come to see it. 

But time had only worked to muddle his mind and darken his thoughts. He had spent months fighting with his mind over his mistake, over hurting the one person who had stolen his heart in the hundreds of years he had walked the earth. Only she had been able to break through the wall he had built around himself—not even the very family he had built for himself had gotten as close as she had.  (Y/N) was everything he had prayed for, and he’d thrown away that blessing for fear he would spoil her, taint her, harm her. And in protecting her, he had bestowed upon her the greatest hurt of all. He had broken her heart and left his with her.  

There weren’t many things Carlisle regretted in his life. After living for so long, he couldn’t. Regret could take over if he let it, sinking its claws into the depths of his mind. But leaving (Y/N) behind was the one thing he could never atone for. Words had spewed from his mouth before he could stop them. Thinking he’d never see her again, he needed to make sure she hated him for the rest of her life. If he was the villain in her story, she wouldn’t have cared what happened to him after.  

Yet he had failed to remember who she was. (Y/N) cared. She didn’t need a reason to; she simply cared about everything and everyone. Whether it was a complete stranger or her childhood friend, she cared so much about them. Caring came naturally to her; it was programmed into the fabric of her being. The minute she didn’t, that’s when you’d know she had given up on you. And it seemed it took more than Carlisle had counted on. 

(Y/N) had put her life on the line to make sure Carlisle came back to his senses. He’d been so lost inside his own mind that he wasn’t able to distinguish between delusion and reality. But she was determined to bring him back, no matter what.  

“That was a very stupid thing you did, darling,” he found himself whispering. “You should have left me there.” 

“She loves you, you know,” Theo muttered in response. “As much as you tried to push her away, deep down, she still loves you. That’s what keeps getting her hurt.” 

“I wanted her to hate me. That’s why I did what I did,” he confessed. There was nothing he could say that would ever make things right, but he had to let it out. “If she hated me, then it wouldn’t be hard for her to move on. She was supposed to have a brilliant life without me. She was meant to forget me and make something of herself.” 

“But that’s not what happened, is it?” Theo pushed. “You forgot to consider the love she had for you. You forgot that just as you had fallen for her, she fell for you. She loved you more than you thought possible, and it wrecked her, Carlisle. And I didn’t know how much until today.” 

“What do you mean?” Esme asked, diverting her sight from the road.  

“(Y/N) was willing to die to make sure you got home,” she said. “She hurt herself because she had faith you would come back to reality and help her. Even if she didn’t know if you would, she put her life in your hands. That’s love.” 

And it was. As much as he wanted to believe that he had done the right thing by leaving her, Carlisle knew that her love was just as deeply carved as his was. He had crawled his way into her heart, and just as she had left a part of herself in him, he had left a part of himself in her—planted deep and ever-growing. It was a part that would remain for the rest of their lives, even if they wanted it gone.  

“Love is often the greatest detriment of all,” he sighed. “It’s the reason we are in this mess in the first place.”  

“I’d say we’re in this mess because you couldn’t say no to little boy wonder,” Theo scoffed. “There were so many other choices you could have decided on before breaking her heart in the way you did. This is all because of a choice you made.”   

“Theo, there’s no need to be so harsh,” Esme said, placing a hand on Theo’s. “I know he’s regretting everything he did already.”   

“It’s quite alright, dear friend. Her words are less than I deserve.”   

“I told you to come back months ago,” Theo continued. “I told you to make things right with her—to right your wrongs. As a matter of fact, you should have never left. At the very least, you should have taken her with you.”  

“I cannot live in all I should have done, Theodora. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen Forks to reside in. Maybe I should have stayed in Alaska for longer, maybe even London. Maybe I should have waited until (Y/N)’s passing to grace the lands of Washington again,” Carlisle cried. “But that’s not what I did, and I cannot change the past. As much as I would want things to be different, I cannot change what I already did. I can only make sure I don’t keep hurting her anymore.”  

“She’s a special person, Carlisle. You were able to see that but not treasure it. She’ll never be the same after you, and I need you to know that,” the woman continued. “(Y/N) deserves better.”  

“I know,” he said. “She deserves the world, but I wasn't strong enough to give it to her.”  

The rest of the car ride was quiet, with Carlisle's attention solely focused on (Y/N). He wiped away the specs of dirt that stained her face, softly tracing the lines that made up her face. Lovely, he thought. The most beautiful woman he'd ever been blessed to lay his eyes upon. The owner of his heart, the woman of his dreams, the answer to his silent prayers... the girl he had broken until there was nothing left of her.    

(Y/N) ended the day just like she had started it, confused.  Last she remembered, Carlisle had her pressed against the cave wall, his hand tightly around her neck. But she was comfortable now. Maybe she was dead. In hindsight, slicing her arm in a confined space full of vampires was not the best idea.  

Her eyes fluttered open to find the same bedroom she had left hours before. Only this time, the sun had set, and the stars shined brightly in the sky. Her arm was neatly bandaged, and she could feel the tightness of sutures under it. She wasn't dead—that much she knew. She was back at the house, but she had no idea if the plan had worked.  

“Good,” a voice startled her. “You're awake.”  

“Carlisle,” she croaked, her hand flying to the bandaged wound. “You're here. I wasn't... I didn't know if it worked.”  

“Yes, your life-defying stunt did work,” he chuckled softly. “Too well, I might add. Had all of us scared to death. We thought...”  

“But it worked,” she interjected. “That's all that matters.”  

“Right. Of course.”  

“What time are we leaving? I'm guessing tomorrow since it's already late enough now.”  

“Oh, well,” he cleared his throat, “Esme found some tickets for eight in the morning, but if it's too early, we can...”  

“Eight is fine,” she said. “Guess I should use this time to sleep then. And make up a plausible reason for this wound.”  

“We should talk, (Y/N). We...”  

“Not right now, Carlisle. I just... I want…” The words died in her throat. What did she want? Getting back together was surely a grave mistake—even if her heart still beat to the rhythm of his name. She wanted answers, of course. But she couldn't be in the same room as him for too long, or she was afraid she'd burst into tears and never stop. She hadn't even stopped to look at him... 

 “Oh, Carlisle,” (Y/N) whimpered. His face was still gaunt, painted with the evidence of hunger. His eyes were as dark as coal, the circles under trying to match them in color. He looked tired, most of all. And for a creature that required no sleep, that meant something. Without thinking twice, she cradled his face, running her thumb against his sharp cheekbone. “You haven't fed yet.”’ 

“I fed enough,” he answered, closing his eyes as he leaned into her touch. He had missed her warmth, her compassion. He had missed because he had thrown her away. And yet, he still held out hope. “But I wanted to be here when you woke up. It's my fault you're hurt.”  

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” she said. “Only something drastic would work to break you out of madness. So, I did what I had to.”  

“Still... you could've...”  

“I could have died, I know,” the girl sighed. “But I didn't. And everyone is going home. That's what's important.”  

There he was.  

No longer a face that clouded her mind. Carlisle was there; she could feel him. Even in his state, he was still the most beautiful man she had seen. Somehow, just by being in his presence, she could feel her anger for him dissipating. His allure was strong, intoxicating even. She could feel her resolve dwindling. The months of work she had gone through would have been for nothing if she kept his gaze for one more second.  

“(Y/N)...” 

“You should go feed, Carlisle,” she said. (Y/N) straightened herself out on the bed, pulling the covers up to her neck. “And I should go sleep. Long day tomorrow, you know?”  

“Oh, uh, of course,” he stammered. “I guess I'll see you in the morning, then.”  

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled. Her eyes followed his figure toward the entrance, trying her best to keep her from yelling his name. “See you in the morning.”  

Without another word, the vampire closed the door behind him, allowing her to let out the breath she had been holding. She had prepared herself mentally to see him again, she had gone over every scenario that could arise in her head. But nothing she had imagined could compare to their reality.  

Tears welled in the back of her eyes, making her chin tremble as she fought against her emotions. (Y/N) believed she had gotten over her feelings for Carlisle. Even if the love lay dormant under the surface, she thought she at least had control over it. But everything bubbled to the surface—love, anger, betrayal, disappointment. He was everything in one and more than she could manage. He had been the reason for so many of her tears, yet he had also been the reason for so much of her joy. Carlisle had taught her love. He taught her passion and enjoyment. He taught her sensuality and possession. He had given, and he had taken. He had been her everything until he had become nothing. And, in a matter of seconds, he became the same infectious being he had been months before. The man who had made a home in her heart and refused to go.  

But one thing was for sure, (Y/N) could not allow him to just waltz back into her life like nothing had happened, like no scars had been made. Although her entire being ached and yearned for him, she could not. The girl had lost herself after Carlisle had gone, transformed into a person she had no desire to remember. That version of her had hurt, had lied, had drowned her sorrows in a bottle of vodka, and made the decision she would always regret. (Y/N) could not go back to being in a position where Carlisle could hurt her in that way again.  

Instead of giving him any more thought, she decided to simply succumb to sleep once more. Thinking alone was exhausting enough, with the events of the day, she was ready to sleep until the next year.  

Still, as she felt the weight of slumber fall upon her, she heard a whisper from the other side of the door.  

“I love you, (Y/N),” Carlisle murmured, possibly thinking she had already fallen asleep. “And I'm sorry.”  

Next ->

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[malakaiblackscloset]

"Adam Page whispering something distasteful into Wheeler Yuta's ear."

Probably told Wheeler he's gonna bury him under the garden leaves.

[mjfass]

[mcgvinness]

i don’t think nigel liked ftr’s apology

[glitchaxolol]

😨😨😨

😏😏😏

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Collision 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, blood, injury, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you find yourself in the hands of unexpected saviours after an accident.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo

Note: Sorry about the pause.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You ease back into the bed. Bucky’s shadow lingers before you fade into the haze. There you can’t feel the broken bones, thought which ones can’t be discerned from those still intact. It’s too much pain to pick apart one ache from the other. 

When you come to again, the room is dim. The curtains are drawn against the receding hue of afternoon. You groan as you shift. It’s not quite agony yet, but uncomfortable nonetheless.  

You don’t try to move much further than a twitch or a wiggle. You won’t dare. Not if it means this gets worse. 

You stare at the bell. You're uncertain. You remember Bucky, his gentleness, his help. Yet it seems he did this to you all the same. Or rather that man’s he’s with did. Zemo. That name. A criminal. A terrorist. Why would a hero be hanging out with him? 

It hurts too much to think. It doesn’t matter. If they meant you harm, they would have left you. Bucky says he’s helping. And he has. So far. 

“How are you feeling?” His voice cuts through your thoughts of him. 

You lift your head as much as you can. Bucky stands in the doorway. His shadow crosses the room and he reaches to turn on the lamp beside the grand bed. You watch him. 

“Overhead light’s bright,” he says. “Your head must be going, huh?” 

“A little,” you croak. 

“Have some water,” he taps the brim of the glass on the night stand before he moves closer. 

You lock up, the tension causing a throb in your shoulder, and you let him bring you up to sitting. You feel a bit stronger than before but wobble like jelly in his hold. He takes the glass and brings it to your lips. You drink cautiously. 

“I’m--” 

“Sorry?” You finish before him. 

He pauses, “yeah, I keep... saying that, don’t I?” 

“Mm,” you hum. 

“Well...” 

“What... what happened to me?” 

He sniffs, “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I mean--” He combs his fingers through his hair. “I know what happened...” he puts the glass down. “That-- guy I’m with knocked the building you were in down but you weren’t supposed to be there.” 

“I-- but--- the interview,” you scrunch up your face as you think. 

“Was across the street.” He crosses his arms. 

Your eyes search the wall. “Oh.” 

Another stupid mistake and this one nearly got you killed. You swear you checked the email a dozen the times. The map app was a bit back and forth on the way but you just thought it was your natural lack of direction. Well, so it seems, it was. 

“If I knew innocent people could be hurt,” he says. 

You blink. You’re too weak to dwell on it. It’s all you can do to keep from whimpering. He stares at you. 

“You’re in pain? Or am I making it worse?” 

You choke out a breath. “no, you’re not... I’m just... I feel... unattached to my body. I don’t know. It's hard to... um...” You let your head fall to the side. 

“I know what you mean,” he frowns. 

“Soldat,” the slither makes you tense and grunt. Bucky’s cheeks visibly tick. His eyes drag to the door. “I knew I’d find you close to the damsel.” 

“Zemo,” Bucky’s posture turns rigid as he faces his colleague.  

“Ah, and she is awake. How unfun.” 

Bucky repeats his name and receives a mocking chortle in return. 

“I kid. How is the broken bird? Is she ready to fly?” 

Bucky growls and rolls his shoulders. 

“I am compassionate my mighty soldat,” Zemo taunts. 

“You know my name.” 

“Yes, but you do not give me that delightful snarl when I say it,” he cackles. “Anyhow, the lady, she would require some... upkeep. To wash. And I thought we might offer a sponge bath or some--” 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Bucky bristles. 

“I’m certain it’s all you can think of,” the other man chimes. 

“And you don’t think,” he retorts. “I’ll deal with it.” 

“Oh, surely.” 

“Quit.” 

“Quit? What? I am being considerate,” Zemo shrugs. 

“I think I could manage--” 

You try to push yourself up. Bucky spins and shows a palm, “please, careful,” he warns, “In due time.” 

“Oh, certainly--” Zemo begins. 

“I said stop,” Bucky snaps then pinches his nose. “She’s bad enough without you.” 

“Mm, yes, such a pest I am. I’ve provided her this respite to recover. A bed, a room, whatever she may ask...” he nears the foot of the bed, “and she will have it.” 

“What about me? Because I’m asking you to go,” Bucky sneers. 

Zemo laughs again. “You are smart, yes? They certainly unscrambled your brain.” 

Bucky moves faster than anyone you’ve seen. He has Zemo by the throat as he growls. He only gets a snort in return. 

“Oh, go on then, break my neck. See if that will cozen her,” Zemo teases. Bucky shoves him away. “As it were,” Zemo rubs his neck as he leans to see around the other man, “if there is anything I might do or acquire on your behalf, very well let me know, darling.” 

You can only stare. Bucky shoos him with his fingers. They glare at each other for a moment before Zemo leaves with a ‘ta’. 

Bucky turns to you. You look at him. “Can I sleep a bit longer?” 

“Sure,” he answers. 

“Thanks,” you rasp and try to get comfortable. 

“Is it bad? Do you want help?” He moves up the side of the bed. 

“Please, I don’t think... I’ll just close my eyes,” you assure him. 

He sighs, “alright...” 

“I... thank you. I... I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t. Please. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Not again,” he sniffs. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You already have,” you assure. “You saved me.” 

His blue eyes swim as he watches you. His forehead creases and his cheek twitches. You shut your eyes and sink into the pillows. It’s easier to just block it all out. 

💞

You second meal is easier to digest. Bucky places a tray over your lap and you manage to grip the spoon yourself. He hovers, watching as if you might choke at any moment. You take your time, your body adjusting to the movement and the food. 

“Do you prefer honey or sugar?” Zemo draws Bucky’s dull gaze as he strides in, a cup and saucer in his hands. 

“What is that?” Bucky asks. 

“Well, my dear American companion, we serve tea in this sort of china--” 

“Why?” Bucky undercuts. 

Zemo’’s cheeks dimple and his lashes flick, “I am doing my part. And as I am host, I should display my hospitality in full.” 

“Display? Huh,” Bucky sets his feet wide, “no one needs to see your chest hair.” 

Zemo looks down at his shirt, the top three buttons undone. He tilts his head at his companion as you sit silent. Too confused and weak to interject. 

“So uptight,” Zemo comes towards you and places the saucer next to the bowl of soup. “Darling, I apologise for him. He was programmed to be this way--” 

“Don’t,” Bucky warns. 

“Yes, yes, he is not that soldier anymore, forgive me. He is a fine man,” he stays close, his back to the other man. “Listen, it was me who placed the explosives. Had I known you’d be there, I surely wouldn’t have hit that button--” 

“Would you leave her alone?” Bucky grabs him and spins him away. 

“Take your own advice,” Zemo brushes Bucky’s grip away. “How do you think she feels? You’re here, like some mother hen, clucking around--” 

“Better than your yammering--” 

“Please, Barnes, let us save this venom for closed doors. It is not etiquette to be so uncouth in front of company.” 

“You started it,” Bucky sneers. 

“How mature,” Zemo pats his arm with his knuckles and faces you. “So, honey? Sugar? Anything I might fetch you?” 

You shake your head, “erm... thanks.” 

“Yes, of course, I hope you enjoy. I wasn’t sure of what you would prefer. It is a white tea. Keeping in mind your current state, a black brew might be too much,” he explains. 

“Thinks so much of the tea but not the one thing I told you.” Bucky grumbles. 

“Yes, yes, well, we are both old dogs with bad habits,” Zemo turns to him again. “Aren’t we?” 

Bucky growls. He peeks at you then exhales. 

“We’ll leave you alone,” he says. 

You nod. The men don’t move. They just stare at each other. 

“After you,” Zemo gestures to the door. 

“I insist,” Bucky doesn’t budge. 

“Ah but that would be rude of me--” 

“Just--” Bucky blusters and storms toward the other man.  

He grabs him by the arm and marches him to the door. He shoves him through then spins and pulls it shut behind him. The snap of wood makes you flinch. 

How strange this all is. 

💞

Breathless, you curl forward over your lap. The silk pajamas are cold against your skin. You have no idea where they came from, you didn’t have a mind to think of what you’re wearing through all the pain and confusion. 

You heave a breath and whine. It took all your effort to get to the edge of the bed. You need to use the bathroom but have no idea where it is. Or if you’ll make it that far. 

You stay like that, gathering what little strength you have. You lift your shoulders just a little and sidle closer to the end post. You grip the wood and bite down. You slide off the bed and your soles hit the floor. You cling to the bed and whimper. 

It’s a mistake. 

Your legs tremble and your single arm isn’t enough to hold you up. The door swings open as you tip and you’re caught with a jarring force that send a twang through your shoulder. You screech as Zemo hooks his arms behind you and grunts as he moves you back to the bed. 

“Ah, little bird, you’ve fallen from your nest,” he muses as he fixes the collar of the lush pajama shirt. “Be careful--” 

“Sorry, I... I... the... bathroom,” you puff out. “I... I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, I did warn him you are human. You have needs beyond his pecking,” Zemo tuts, “Yes, I can assist.” 

He turns and sits next to you. He snakes his arm across your back. He takes your uninjured one and guides it behind his neck. 

“Shall I count?” He offers. You’re silent. “One three. One, two, three--” 

He stands you up and you falter. You squeak and panic, leaning into him as you hook your arm around his neck and face him. Your press your cheek to his shirt and moan. 

“Oh, darling,” his hand brushes down your side. “Never fear, I mightn’t be enhanced but I might do.” 

He bends slowly and angles you around. He scoops you up in his arms and you groan. The dearth beneath you makes you dizzy. 

“Hm, yes, let us get you to where you need--” he drawls as he approaches the door. 

He stops shorts as a sole scuffs. Your head lolls over as Bucky appears in the frame. He is in a robe, his hair damp, the smell of aftershave rippling from his freshly shaved jaw. You shrink into Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky snarls. 

“Helping,” Zemo retorts. “As you are in your self-care era, I am helping this one care for herself.” 

“Where are you taking her?” 

“Is nothing sacred? This soul deserves her privacy,” Zemo steps forward. “She requires to tend her most human needs.” 

Bucky squints then winces. “Oh, uh...” 

“Yes, so I am only helping as she is struggling to convey herself.” 

“I can help--” 

“You can move. We haven’t time to argue. I feel her squirming.” 

You murmur and let your head fall next to Zemo’s. Bucky sniffs but retreats. Zemo continues out of the room and into the high-ceilinged hall. Your eyes roll over the walls as he strides along to a door. Bucky reaches past him to twist it and pushes it inward. 

“Ah, see, we work well together,” Zemo reproaches as he steps inside. “I will set you down now, my darling.” 

“Yes,” you utter, “thank you.” 

He places you on a cushioned stool near the long counter before antique mirrors. The bathroom is spacious and smells of artificial rain scent. He helps you steady yourself and toys with the satin along your shoulder. 

“She doesn’t need an audience,” Bucky snarls. 

“Certainly,” Zemo draws back and faces the other man. “But wouldn’t it be amusing.” 

You groan as your muscles quiver. You wait until the door closes, then let yourself slouch once more. He did most of the work but just getting off that stool will sap the last of your strength. 

[sluttywonwoo]

collision [part two] || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, feelings, smut (18+ mdni)

additional warnings: m first time, grinding, boob sucking, f masturbation, protected sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.7k

-> read part one here

Jisung doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know if it means anything. You’re horny, he’s horny. Maybe you’re under the impression that you’re using each other as a means to an end. He’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to ruin the moment. What’s happening now is good and he should enjoy it while it’s happening, especially if it’s the only time this is happening. Jisung tries not to think about that (very likely) possibility, though, and focus instead on the feeling of your lips on his neck. 

You’re working his denim jacket off of his shoulders as you kiss your way down the column of his throat. You’re already topless, obviously. Jisung has been trying not to think too much about how he could feel your nipples through his shirt ever since you first sat on his lap and pressed your chest against his.

You’re careful not to drop the jacket on the floor, which Jisung appreciates. You’ve heard him complain about how hard they are to wash and you of all people know how disgusting frat houses can be. You, of course, had just done part of your routine on the floor but Jisung supposes that’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make in your line of work. You’ll shower later anyway. Maybe you’ll ask him to shower with you-

“Can you sit up a little?”

Your voice startles Jisung out of his train of thought. He lifts his head to look at you, blinks twice, and does as instructed, leaning forward so that you can tug his T-shirt over his head. 

“Is this still okay?” you ask. 

“Yeah, yeah this is great,” he breathes out. 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He expects to feel self-conscious about being shirtless in front of you in this context but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless in front of you in other contexts or maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you want to devour him. He’s willing to bet that it’s the latter. 

His shirt joins his jacket on an adjacent chair. You run a hand down his torso, then each of his arms, admiring his body with your lips slightly parted like you’re surprised by what you see. All of the lifting he’s been doing with Chris and Changbin must be paying off. 

He shivers under your touch, which seems to break the little spell you’d been under, making you smirk. 

“You can touch me, you know.”

Jisung realizes his hands have been stuck attached to your hips since you first put them there several minutes ago, while yours have been in his hair, cupping his face, feeling him up. Ugh, why was he so bad at this? He nods, sliding one of his hands up your back. His fingers trace your spine, palm resting on one of your shoulders. He isn’t really sure what he should do next. What usually happens next? He’s watched porn, a bunch of porn, what did the actors do after making out? 

Rationally, Jisung knows porn isn’t an accurate reflection of reality. But he doesn’t have much else to go off of. 

You stop kissing his neck and sit up to catch your breath and Jisung realizes the answer is staring him in the face, literally. 

“Can I, uh, can I use my mouth?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh. “You can do whatever you want.”

Jisung gulps and nods absently, eyes transfixed on your chest. He feels kind of silly as he sticks his tongue out and laves it over one of your nipples like he’s trying a new flavor of ice cream but you seem to like it. You gasp and jolt a little which encourages Jisung to keep going. He tests out a couple of different methods to see what you like the best, eventually settling on a pattern of sucking and flicking that has you whimpering his name in his ear. 

He doesn’t want to forget about your other boob so after a minute or so he switches, replicating the motions with his thumb on the first one. He isn’t sure how much time passes. It could be minutes, it could be hours. All he knows is that he could do this forever. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed because he’s the happiest he’s ever been with your tits in his mouth. 

“Ji,” you whisper, getting his attention by tugging on his hair. 

He reluctantly pulls away with a pout. “What?”

“Kiss me again.”

Oh. Well, he could do that too. He melts into you all over again when you press your lips to his. It’s sloppier this time, both of you drunk off the other. When he pulls away, he notices the way your lips shimmer with something sparkly. It’s glitter, he realizes. Body glitter. You always wear it for your shifts. He’d sucked it off of your boobs and now his lips and chin must be covered with it too. Like a reverse vampire. 

“‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella,’” you quote, running your thumb across his lips to collect some of the glitter. It was like you had read his mind. Maybe you really were Edward Cullen. “I hope this is safe to consume,” you add. 

Jisung shrugs. “Something’s gotta kill me someday.”

Instead of telling him off like you usually would, you stick your thumb in your mouth and suck, also swallowing some of the glitter. It was like you were saying if he was going to die, you were going to die with him. He thinks the gesture is very poetic of you, albeit stupid. 

But he figures body glitter has to be relatively harmless so he doesn’t feel too concerned about it. 

You lift yourself off of his lap so that he’s able to unbutton and wriggle out of his jeans. He puts them with his other clothes, leaning over to be able to reach the chair you’d chosen. He’s not sure whether or not you want him to take off his underwear yet so he keeps them on, looking back to you for further instruction. 

“You can take them off,” you say. “I’ll take mine off too but before I do, do you want me to suck your dick?”  you ask, kneeling in front of him. 

“No, no no,” he replies hurriedly, pulling you back to your feet. “I already know I’m not going to last very long. I don’t want to put myself at an even greater disadvantage.”

You snort. “Suit yourself.”

“But can I-” he pauses. 

“What?”

“Can I eat you out, though?”

“You want to eat me out on your birthday?” 

“Well, yeah,” he pushes his bottom lip out into a pout, making you chuckle and kiss him again, sucking on his lip to get him to moan into your mouth. 

“This is supposed to be about you, though,” you point out.

Jisung doesn’t know how to admit that wanting to eat you out is about him. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s something he’s fantasized about for years now, that it would be the (second) best birthday present you could ever give him. He can’t say any of that without confessing to his big fat crush on you so he lets it go. 

“Okay,” he concedes. 

“Next time, though?” you suggest as you bend over to take your thong off, making his eyes nearly pop out of his head at both the sight and the words coming out of your mouth.

Next time? There was going to be a next time? Jisung doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but you must think he’s still sulking because you start to make a deal with him. 

“I’ll tell you what, if you want it that bad, you can eat me out once the clock strikes midnight when it’s not your birthday anymore. We can leave your little party early if that��ll make you happy. But for now, you can have a taste, if you want.”

 Jisung watches you spread your legs and slip two fingers inside of yourself. You sigh in relief and curl them upward, getting yourself even wetter for him. He already has his mouth open, (in shock) waiting, when you sit back on his lap. This time, he can feel your arousal on his bare thigh and it makes his cock twitch against the waistband of his boxers. 

You push your dripping fingers into his mouth, nodding approvingly as he sucks them clean. He moans around them, taking them deeper until your knuckles are brushing his lips. He wishes he could somehow deepthroat them but your fingers are only so long. You retract them far too soon for Jisung’s liking but he knows you need to move on if he’s going to get fucked and make it to his party before it ends. 

“Wow, Ji. You’re a little slutty, aren’t you?”  

“I didn’t know I would be,” he laughs breathlessly. “You bring it out of me.”

You put a hand over your heart. “I’m flattered. Now take your underwear off.”

Right. He had forgotten about that part. He had been distracted. You hover over his thighs as he slips out of his boxer briefs and tosses them to the side. He doesn’t care where they land. Underwear is easy to wash and who knows how many times Jisung has stumbled acros someone else’s boxers in this godforsaken fraternity house. 

“Didn’t know you were so desperate to get in my pants,” he jokes.  

You tilt your head to the side with a small smile he doesn’t know how to read. “Can’t you feel how wet I am?”

To punctuate your point, you grab his dick and lower yourself enough to run the head through your slick folds. It’s a rhetorical question so he knows you aren’t expecting an answer but he gives you one anyway, sputtering out a “y-yes, holy shit!” in response. 

Your hand is so warm and still a little wet from Jisung’s saliva and it feels perfect around his cock. He’s so fucked. You can’t help stroking his dick up and down a few times just to tease him, smirking as he tenses underneath you and grits his teeth in an attempt to stay in control of himself. 

Thankfully, you relent. “I’m going to get a condom now, okay? I’ve always got some in my bag.” 

Jisung doesn’t realize he’d had his eyes closed until he feels your weight disappear from his lap. He wonders when he shut them. 

You’re already on the other side of the room, bent over the bag you had gotten the speaker out of. The fact that you carry condoms in your work bag is interesting to Jisung. A lot of your rules implied that the people you... service don’t interact with you much at all. But they say there are exceptions to every rule... 

There had to have been times when you were just as attracted to the client as they were to you, right? But have you ever acted on that? He shouldn’t ask. It’s none of his business. He is curious, though. 

You return with a foil packet in one of your hands and offer it to him. 

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Jisung takes the condom and rips the packaging open with his teeth. You look impressed, which is a relief because he’s not sure if he’ll put it on correctly and he needs that buffer of you being turned on by something he’s done if he’s about to embarrass himself. He’s practiced putting condoms on before but never with an audience. His hands are shaking as he guides it down the shaft and he can feel you watching intently. It dawns on him that not only are you watching him struggle with something so simple, you’re also looking at his dick. Do you like what you see? Is he smaller than you were expecting? Uglier? He knows dicks aren’t exactly pretty but he didn’t think his was anything remarkable on either side of the spectrum. 

The longer he spends trying to roll it on, the more he feels panic building in his stomach so he decides he needs to say something to ease the tension, to shift your attention away from this pathetic little display. 

“Have you ever fucked one of your clients?”

God damn it. 

You shake your head adamantly. “Never.”

“So I get to be the first one?” he asks happily.

“You’re not my client,” you remind him. “So that rule is still intact.” He pouts. “Unless you want me to call, what’s his name... Chris? In here.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you as you climb back onto his lap. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes, Ji. It’s a joke.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“I know I am,” you scoff, then take him by the shoulders. “Still sure about this?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m sure,” he assures you, nodding. You take his cock in your hand again and position yourself above it. “Just-”

You freeze, eyes wide. “Just what?”

“Can you kiss me? As you put it in?”

Jisung doesn’t hear how romantic the request sounds until he says it out loud but he had only asked because he’s afraid he’ll make an embarrassing noise or worse, confess his love to you, if his mouth isn’t occupied when you do sink down onto him.

Thankfully, you don’t question it and do as he asked as you, kissing him deeply as you slip the head inside of you. Jisung lifts his hips slightly to push himself into you a bit more. You gasp against his lips.

“Sorry, are you okay?” he asks through grit teeth. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a second to adjust.”

“Shit, sorry. I should have fingered you first or something,” he mutters. 

He feels so stupid. How could he forget something so important? Of course, grinding and your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to prepare you for the real thing. He hadn’t even stretched you out at all. 

“No, I wasn’t thinking,” you laugh. “I just wanted your dick so bad and I’m so wet I thought I’d be fine... but you’re huge.”

“Wha- am I?” 

“Yeah, dude, are you kidding me?” you laugh, still sounding strained. “I knew you had to be big but- stop smirking!”

“I can’t help it!” he cries defensively, covering his mouth with his hand so you can’t see it anymore. “Come on, you’d react the same way.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess.”

“Don’t even lie- god, fuck!” 

You had taken that exact moment to sink down further on his length, probably to get back at him. It worked, obviously. 

“What were you saying?” you taunt, raising yourself momentarily before dropping all the way down this time. 

“I don’t remember,” Jisung groans. 

“That’s what I thought.”

It takes everything in Jisung not to blow the instant he feels your hips flush with his the first time. He’s heard guys complain about condoms before, whining about how they can barely feel anything through the latex, but they must have the smallest dicks in the world because he can feel everything. 

Obviously, he knows fucking raw must feel better to some extent, but this is pretty damn good. 

You must think so too because you can’t keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. You can’t stop kissing him either, pressing your lips against his mouth, then his jaw, his neck, anywhere you could reach. He wishes he could kiss you back but all he can do is sit there and take it. All of his concentration, all of his energy, is being put into lasting as long as possible, lasting long enough to make it good for you too. 

“You feel so good,” you compliment, murmuring the words into his skin. 

“Not as good as you,” he whispers back. 

He’s not sure if he’ll make you cum but he wants to try so he snakes one of his hands between your bodies and starts feeling around for your clit, assuming he’ll know when he finds it. He has to be way off because you grab his wrist and direct him to it after a few seconds of mindless searching. 

“Here?” he asks.

“Mhm, right fucking there. Just rub in gentle circles and you’ll get me to cum in no time. A little less pressure- o-oh fuck...”

Some of the tension leaves your body and you rest more of your weight on Jisung as he moves his fingers in the way you’d told him to. He takes it as a good sign and keeps going. 

You try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm as you bounce on his lap but the added stimulation on your clit makes it difficult. Jisung tries to help but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. 

You’re a little too gone to guide him but he doesn’t mind. He can figure it out. Probably. He’s not any better off, mind completely clouded with thoughts of you, you, you. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long, that it’s hard to believe it’s actually happening and almost impossible to focus on anything else. 

“You’re going to- Jisung, you’re going to make me cum,” you whimper. 

“I am?”

“Yes, I’m so close please don’t stop!”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop after you cum the first or the second time. He just fucks you until you’re digging your nails into his back and clenching around him so tight that he can’t stave off his own orgasm any longer. It goes on for what feels like forever. His vision goes white and his ears start ringing and he only knows you came again because his back starts stinging with fresh scratches. 

You’re boneless when he regains his sight and feeling in his legs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“I’m fantastic.”

Jisung laughs. “I was okay?”

“Okay? You were incredible. Seriously. Best fuck of my life.”

He doesn’t know how true that statement is, figures your judgment is a little lacking in your post-nut haze but he decides not to question it. If you say he was the best fuck of your life he’s going to take your word for it. 

“Was it good for you?” you ask.  

“Oh my god, yeah of course,” he assures you. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. Thank you, again, by the way.”

You sit up a little and cup his face with your hands. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not like I was just doing you a favor. I wanted it too.”

He sighs. “I know but-”

“Jisung. I feel the same way. I’ve wanted this too.”

He stares at you. “What?”

You stare back at him. “When we were...  you know. You said you’ve wanted this for so long?”

“I said that out loud?” he gasps. “Wait, is that... is that what made you cum the first time?”

You duck your head, suddenly shy. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god. You like me too?”

You smack him on the arm. “Yes, idiot. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

“But you never told me! You dated other people!”

“Because you never made a move!”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship!” he looks away for the next part. “And because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ji, why else would I have stayed and offered to give you a lap dance after figuring out it’s you, my best friend, that I’m supposed to be dancing for? It’s because I like you as more than a best friend!”

“That can totally be a best friend thing!” he argues. 

“In what world?!”

“I don’t know! It’s my birthday, don’t yell at me!”

Your eyes widen with panic and realization. “Oh shit, your party!”

-

“That was the longest thirty minutes ever,” Minho comments loudly as you and Jisung walk into the foyer together. He’s smug as he claps Jisung on the back but is ultimately ignored because everyone else is already swarming the two of you to wish your best friend a happy birthday.

You and Jisung had rushed to get dressed and make yourselves presentable after remembering why you were there in the first place, promising each other that you would talk about the serious stuff later. 

“Yeah, are we getting charged extra for that?” Chris asks you under his breath, having pulled you both aside. He checks his watch and grimaces at how much time has actually passed since he left you with his friend. 

“No, no, it’s on the house,” you assure him with a wink. 

“Thank god. We don’t have the budget for that. Oh, but you know, Felix, another one of our brothers, has a birthday tomorrow. Are you doing anything?”

Jisung interjects before you can answer for yourself. “She’s busy.”

Chris looks back and forth between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Um, yeah, I’m not available tomorrow,” you stutter, giving Jisung a what the fuck side-eye. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, if your schedule clears up, Jisung should bring you by. Not to work, just as a guest.”

“I’ll try to make it,” you promise.

Chris gives you a thumbs-up and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with Jisung again. He’s sure his other fraternity brothers will find him soon enough, though, and drag him off to do shots or something. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cockblock a work opportunity,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t think cockblock is the right word to use there,” you scoff. 

“I think it is if I was thinking with my cock,” he shoots back. “I just wanted to have you to myself for twenty-four hours, is that okay?”

And maybe he also didn’t want another one of his brothers getting a birthday lap dance from you so close to his birthday. Sue him. 

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Of course. Anything for my birthday boy.”

Your birthday boy. Jisung likes the sound of that. But to be fair he likes the sound of anything if it means he gets to be yours.

apologies for the delay but lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

[4gifs]