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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months ago

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Favorite Guest | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Visiting the controversial but fascinating zoo: Twisted Territories is something you finally got around to doing. Usually satisfied with the attached aquarium and petting zoo; it’s a bit of an adventure going into the very popular exhibit.

“Here is our exhibit for our Nagas! If you don’t see them don’t feel bad they are a little shy. So if you like you may look up at the screen where we have some footage of our training with them–”

The zookeeper kept talking as the crowd made a makeshift line along the glass of the giant enclosure—moving awfully quickly because of the lack of action. Letting yourself fall into the back of the line you took your time admiring the grand enclosure. Much larger than any you’ve seen it was likely they could’ve been in plain sight camouflaging with the foliage inside it. Finally telling yourself to move on you take one last look at a specific spot in the bushes. Doing a double take you try to see if you saw the shimmer of someone’s eyes.

“Mommy, when will I get a chance to see?”

Hearing the child’s whining you decide your time at the glass was up, writing off what you’d seen as an especially shiny plant in the exhibit. Pushing it to the back of your mind, the memory fades with the attraction of the merpeople and the wolf-hybrids who were much more present. It’s good enough to encourage you to come back, once again giving the Naga exhibit a chance.

Spending a little while looking at the unreal nature, hoping you’ll find some hidden pattern of scales or a tiny bit of movement that reveals where the Nagas may be. It didn’t take long before your eyes were drawn to the open space right behind the glass. Only having time to look befuddled before a crowd of people started to form around you.

“Look that snake-man came right up to the glass! Quick get your camera!”

As so many voices began to point out, a pale upper human half with a silver tail coiling behind him was right up against the glass. Hands-on the glass with his dark eyes trained on you, this Naga with a choppy bowl cut didn’t seem keen on moving. His intense eye-bags made it hard to tell if you were angering him or just entertaining him. You weren’t keen to find out.

It took a while but you let the crowd take your place struggling to get through them to move on to the next exhibit. Taking advantage of the crowd’s excitement, when you looked back you couldn’t see the Naga which you could delude yourself into believing it was pure coincidence. Trying to enjoy the rest of your trip to the zoo, once again you tried to push your weird encounter into the back of your head. When that doesn’t work you settle for calling yourself ‘lucky.’ Who else has gotten such a close view of one of the illusive Nagas in the enclosure?

This is why you internally scold yourself when you find a special invitation to that part of the zoo again. The email claims it's a prize for being such a frequent visitor and it makes sense that they offer a discounted price. If only to shake away the memories of the odd encounter you do again this time avoiding that exhibit for last, with plans to go at the end of your stay. You try to hurriedly rush through the path without incident.

The sound of a glass being banged and a muted hiss has you turning to look at the nagas exhibit. This time there are two–the grey one who’s tail was still on the glass and the other whose tail is a vibrant blue with hair to match. The blue one was coiled in on himself practically hiding behind the grey haired one–but he was also looking at you. Both leaning in tandem as you tested going further down the path. Once again the crowd was in an uproar surrounding the spot. You could see the blue one hurriedly retreat into the bushes of the exhibit while the grey one lingered. Through the surrounding crowd you found yourself locking eyes with dark grey ones. The glare was the same as before—a demanding sort of stare that weirdly made you feel guilty for turning away.

Well…you were never coming to this zoo again.

__________________________________________________________

“Hi, can you please please come to the zoo again? I’m asking personally because legally that wouldn’t be right but there’s this neat grey area where I can–”

Cater couldn’t help but ramble as he spoke to the former frequent guest of the zoo. Tasked by his superiors to do whatever was needed to get the Nagas corporation. Since uniting the three specimens their murderous tendencies had increased. For a time there were vague signals of in-fighting but that quickly died down and suddenly their scientists and zookeepers were turning up dead.

It seemed like there was no end to the carnage.

Until (Y/n) came along.

In the zoo’s database, they were listed as a common face. An annual pass and accessories to match it was a matter of time before they visited the new mystical exhibits. What no one expected that it’d be them who got the Nagas to be active. With cameras placed on the ceiling and some trees, the scientist smart enough not to go inside could watch. But the Nagas were smart they knew precisely where they were and their intense strength didn’t help. Taking advantage of the terrain that didn’t need to be changed the Nagas made their supposed nest in a cave which meant that no scientists could see them even at rest.

So it shocked everyone when they saw multiple dashes across the screen at the fifth big crowd of the day. Unlike some of their other creatures who had fun toying with the guests and were rewarded for it. The Naga s were never a part of this group usually ignoring guests or making themselves completely unseen on purpose. But now they were rushing to the edges of the forest without a care for the cameras or the eyes of amazed onlookers all to look at one person in particular.

“That one human. When will they be here again?”

Cater was the unlucky understudy who was finally spoken to rather than immediately suffocated for simply delivering food. He was shaking like a leaf as he promised to find out for them. It was a wonder they spoke at all let alone the biggest one of all.

The creatures Twisted Territories had gathered were oddly enough quite close to one another. Already having split themselves into factions and hierarchies that fit with their species. But the greatest predator and the most feared was none other than the rumored dragon. Illusive and feared the only reason he hadn’t decided to end the organization was because he was looking for something specific.

He said this after leaving nothing of an army of men and women.

No bones. No blood. No survivors to speak of.

This is why it was a miracle that Cater was able to return to the guffawing scientists with a message at all. Bringing this up to the Superiors he was praised and tasked with making sure that their requests were fulfilled.

Did these creatures have a type they liked to kill?

An interest in specific blood types or was it something else?

Was it a mating interest?

Competition?

The possibilities were endless and those superiors of his were hungry for answers. Granted it would come at the cost of this poor person’s life but he wasn’t in a position to argue. Not when he told the dragon he’d find you himself.

“I’m not really interested in returning anytime soon.”

That wasn’t going to work.

“I…actually would like to offer you an exclusive look at one of our exhibits. We’ll give you a free meal and some extra merch–”

“I’m sorry but I really don’t want to. Those Nagas really put me on edge.”

Cater’s heart sunk even deeper into his stomach. Letting his mind wander to the consequences of failing to get the subject to come willingly. His superiors would no doubt go to the extremes– buying the land around them, blackmailing, entrapping their family. It would be so much worse than a simple call.

“I shouldn’t be saying this but the next time someone calls you about coming…there will be dire consequences.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if they’ve already heard me…just pack a bag and come, please. I don’t know what they’ll do.”

Cater hung up the call, his heart aching in his chest. Looking at his feet he was acutely aware of the shadow that stretched in the doorway near them.

He thought he was safe.

He thought he was essential.

The first one to speak to The Dragon without being dead.

Perhaps he wouldn’t get to deliver the guest to the dragon himself.

Maybe you’d be better off on your own.

__________________________________________________________

“Welcome (Y/n) (L/n) to your official behind-the-scenes of Twisted Terrain. Is there anything I can get you before we start?”

“The guy I was talking to…where is he?”

“.....Right this way honored guest.”

You didn’t like how they deflected but it prepared you for what you may be dealing with. Despite the media denouncing it, you’ve been looking at the forums. Written off as hurtful conspiracies to zoos they provided their speculation about the zoo’s latest additions and how far their willing to go to keep them. Sadly it aligned with everything that’s happened so far; more people with suits surrounded you as you further traversed into the maze of staff-only doors. It didn’t make you feel so bad about scheduling a post about this thing. They’d take it down eventually sure but if you were never coming back it’d be best to warn others about this wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“So here is the private extension of the Naga exhibit, where our scientists do their best to learn while taking care of our reptile friends.”

Seeing where this part of the exhibit expanded from the one the public saw was shocking. From a previous perspective, it already looked like a small forest, this larger part just made it so much larger. You realize this makes the Naga’s interest in one specific side of the glass that much weirder.

“Now if you’ll do me a favor and step up to the glass so you can have a closer look at their habitat?”

It wasn’t really a question, the slight inching of the others in suits said so. Adjusting your hold on the strap you were holding some luggage with, you step forward. In your heart of hearts, you almost hope that nothing will happen. That this would all turn out to be some ruse that happened to be triggered by the environment or the color of the clothes you wore.

Like the feeling of realizing something so uncomfortable, so nightmarish, happening to you, and when you blink your eyes, you are not dreaming. The whole wood seemed to rustle as a long green tail much larger than the other Nagas’ you’d seen reached for the glass between you two. Almost caressing the glass.

“Spectacular! I would’ve never believed it if I hadn’t seen it! Alright, let’s get them in there! Get those cameras ready I don’t want to miss an angle–”

“What?! Ahhh!”

The people in suits held you tight, maneuvering to a vault-like door where they took you and your bag inside. Feeling the bruises on your skin you tried to regulate your breathing and it was proving hopeless. The gaggle of people surrounding you in lab coats with cameras and notepads, it seemed as though they truly were prepared to feed you to these Naga. The feeling really sunk in when you were slammed into the dirt watching from over your shoulder as thousands of people watched like an audience of Colosseum—practically cheering for your massacre. Breathing in and out, you tried to ignore the burning ache of cuts on your hands and knees. You squeezed the handle of your bag as you walked into the forest, a glance back showed the gaggle behind the glass groaning and whining that you didn’t stand in the clearing the gate opened up.

You thought about flipping them off but this would have to do.

The second you stepped past the forest’s edge it was that same green tail that gently wrapped around your back guiding you through the forest. It was alarming but oddly comforting that the muscles underneath those evergreen scales were somehow softer than the humans who brought you here.

“Where are you taking me?”

You continued to follow its light pushing and support over more rocky terrain. It eventually stops at the mouth of a cave, the tail disappearing into its darkness. Popping out again to imitate a finger calling you to come in.

You patted your pockets for your phone; coming up empty they must’ve swiped it while they were manhandling you into the enclosure. Figuring you’re better off relying on another sense you let your hand drag along one side of the cave, leaning on it as the ground dipped as you got even farther.

“I can’t believe they brought you.”

Turning to the left of you, you were sure you heard a voice there. Looking in the darkness for any kind of movement you continued along. After that, you make sure to listen for some kind of sliding equated with the sound of Naga s slithering but you hear nothing.

“D-did they put any wires on you?”

Turning again and seeing no one you put your back to the wall. Hoping that this will eliminate the directions someone can come at you. Shimmying along the wall you debate with yourself about how to react to these voices around you, whether you’d respond or swipe if only to prove you weren’t going insane. Before you could decide you felt something swiftly pull at your clothes.

“Ah!”

“S-s-orry it’s just that they did put something on you.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Whoever was the owner of this shaky voice made a sound you’ve never heard before. It sounded close but when you dared to reach a hand out you found nothing again. Continuing on your way, you wondered how far you’d get before you reached wherever you should have gone.

A cool sensation spread across your waist, making you jump. Thinking it was water or something you sent a speculative finger down to check finding what stopped you in your tracks was a Naga tail. It pulled you from the wall into a warm and lean chest; for good measure matching pair of arms wrapped around you trapping you against what you assumed to be one of the Nagas you were meant to meet. Seeing as the coils that wrapped around you were only moderately squeezing you figured you could let your guard down.

“To think you had to be with those nasty humans this whole time makes me sick.”

That voice was the first you heard. The voice was smooth authoritative and a little snobbish you wondered which of the Nagas you’d seen was the owner.

“Um, can I ask some–AcK!”

“Don’t squirm, I’m checking past these infernal coverings.”

The hands inspecting you were just as chilly as his tail which was maneuvering you in all sorts of ways to help remove the ‘infernal coverings.’ Trying to push the hands away proved to be nothing but a nuisance to the Naga who casually slapped your hands away to continue trying to remove your clothes.

“Wait don’t—”

“Stop whining! I can look better if you just stop–”

“Rollo, please.”

The voice that spoke from somewhere unusually close was deep, a baritone that practically shook the air of the cave. A command that had the Naga holding you stopping their attempt at removing your clothes, letting you rest in their coils.

The light draft of the cave became more intense, wafting against your cheeks in a cold thrush. A light brush became an intense whirl, making you shut your eyes from the dark expanse of the cave. There was the sound of something cackling like a fire and then the faint wave of light reaching through the cover of your eyelids. Opening your eyes to a whole new cave, a green flame burning on a torch being the main reason.

“You must be gentle. Their eyesight is much different than ours it makes sense they’d be disoriented.”

The owner of the deep voice was a pale man with hair as long and dark as the cave, you’d entered. With a pair of horns on his head and evergreen scales trailing from his cheeks down his unclothed chest blending with the length of his tail. His tail was hard to see for its true color with the glow of the green flame but accounting for it you recognized the scales for the evergreen ones that guided you into the cave. Looking at the now illuminated ground it was that same evergreen tail that seemed to curve and coil all around. Trying to pinpoint the end of the tail to its beginnings led you to meet its owner. Resting on one of many coils of his, with a fanged smile you could feel the heat rising from the pit of your stomach as slitted evergreen eyes looked deep into your own.

Taking a gulp you tried to speak,” You led me here right?”

He was still smiling at you, making you wonder if he planned to respond to you at all. Unable to hold his gaze you found yourself looking away.

“Haha, I did!”

His laugh reverberated through the cave sending shivers up your spine. When you dared to look again he was much closer. Seconds ago he was leagues away now barely a hair from your nose, it only served to make you turn away again in embarrassment.

“I am glad you found a way in here considering how dark it is for you.”

“T-thanks.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with checking you for wounds.”

The snobbish voice of your captor reminded you that he was there, finally looking over to put a face to the voice. He was the gray-haired Naga with tired eyes that you recalled glaring at you through the glass.

“You!?”

“Is there a reason you're pointing at me like that?”

“You were the one who was glaring at me that one time I came.”

He sighed exasperated as though it was tiresome to recount the frightening experience. He crossed his arms upturning his nose at you as he turned his head, all the while keeping those grey eyes trained on you.

“I wasn’t glaring. I was watching.”

“Why’d you slam against the glass then!?”

“You weren’t looking, it was just a light tap to get your attention.”

“And the hissing?!”

“Well, I think it was wrong of you to just ignore me like that, especially after you left last time.”

“You freaked me out! Of course, I left!”

He rolled his eyes at you, “I don’t see why this is still important.”

The one with the black hair came close again, tilting his head in your direction.

“First impressions are very important Rollo. If you scared them you have to take responsibility.”

“Y-y-yeah!”

The Naga with the grey hair—Rollo rolled his eyes again bringing the tip of his tail to cover the bottom half of his face. Very badly hiding the sneer on his face.

“Whatever. You’ve been dodging the topic of those injured of yours. I think whatever I’ve done in the past doesn’t quite matter now.”

You immediately wanted to protest as the green-eyed Naga beside you gently grabbed your hands and opened them to reveal scratches from bracing your fall. Trailing up your wrist and to your arm gently caressing the bruises you could feel forming.

For the first time since you’d met him, he wasn’t smiling. A neutral expression on his face but the sharp twists and twirls of his tail said otherwise. You turned to Rollo who was still holding the tip of his tail over his mouth, this time hiding a subtle act of gritted teeth. His tired eyes were also on your arms where the other Naga was still caressing.

“Those in the coats did this to you?”

“Uh yes.”

Rollo spoke up again, his tail wrapping around you tighter, “Despicable humans! They can’t do a single thing right!”

Shooting him a look, he brought the tip of his tail down to fold his hands in front of him.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore you all the same. It’s just all other humans.”

As if that was any better.

A flurry of sparkling lights flooded your vision bringing your attention to the Naga who was solemnly guiding the lights on your wounds. The dull ache coming from them began to dissipate as the open scratches closed themselves and the discoloration from the bruises faded away.

“I think this is reason enough.”

“I agree. I’ve been wanting to tear those humans apart the day they brought us here!”

“If I can take their tech that’s fine with me!”

The third voice came from behind you, revealing the blue-haired Naga you saw shyly poking out that one day. Now he was smiling happily, slithering closer to the other Naga as he looked at your arms.

“If they did that there’s no way they’ll be living another day.”

A lot of things were being said and they all pointed to an uprising against the scientists. There was just one glaring issue.

“But why?”

It was like the scratching of a record. They all turned to look at you like you’d grown a second head. Rollo’s face looked almost offended. The blue-haired Naga’s jaw was dropped. Even the one with the horns had his green eyes widened in shock. You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment. Closing your eyes to block the image of their judgment being cast.

Feeling the cool tips of fingers and elongated claws lightly caress your cheek and jaw; tilting your face upward, goading you to open your eyes. Doing so slowly you were face-to-face with the ethereal face of the Naga who healed you. Eyebrows knitted together with sorrow in his eyes, it felt wrong to look away.

“You are our mate.”

Searching his expression, hoping he’d elaborate it didn’t look like he was going to.

“Like imprinting?”

Rollo scooched closer to you lightly tugging you from the other Naga’s grip to put you in his own. Nuzzling his nose into your own, holding you firm when you naturally attempted to back away.

“Deeper than that. It’s destiny that you’re mine.”

“Ours.” The black-haired Naga corrected.

Rollo huffed,” Ours.”

Coming close to him was the blue-haired Naga. Practically snuggling into Rollo’s side he let his tail coil on top of his, lightly shifting you into his hold. Bringing you close to him, he encouraged you to wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging you tightly with his arms you finally got to see his face. Framed by his wild blue tresses, golden eyes, and matching blue lips that were spread in an awkward smile.

“We were waiting for you this whole time.”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Rollo leaned into the blue-haired one this time, batting at some hair that got in his way. Turning to you with a smirk.

“We told you, didn’t we? You are ours. Guess that human side of yours has a problem with accepting the truth.”

Feeling a kiss on your neck, then a nudge of someone resting their head on your shoulder.

Looking down the Naga’s green eyes practically glowed as he spoke, “Then we will have to fix that. Right, (Y/n)?”

__________________________________________________

“So what’s the plan?”

After getting some much-needed introductions and a vague talk about the biological herrings of mates. You would like to be the voice of reason when it comes to this uprising they planned to do.

Malleus took his head off your own to cutely tilt his head, “Plan? Do we need one?”

Rollo’s claws dug into the sides of his hands which were folded on top of his coils.

“I was going to just go for the ones that disrespected me the most.”

Idia let out that sound you equated with happiness, now that you could see his blue tail wiggle about in excitement.

“I’m so glad you asked–”

He held nothing back as he rambled on and on about the plan he had. While you were following for the first half you couldn’t keep up after he mentioned opening an interdimensional portal. Feeling the vibrations of laughter on your back you looked to Malleus who was doing just as you felt. Perching his head back on the top of yours, he squeezed you closer to his chest turning his head to whisper just above your ear.

“Can you tell now? We really do need you.”

You couldn’t help to chuckle along with him. Noticing that Idia had run out of breath and was panting over the schematics he’d drawn in the dirt. While Rollo looked disgusted that he was heaving so heavily. Clapping your hands to get their attention they turned to you.

“Alright, so this is the plan….”

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 4 months ago

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The Great Bucky Bake Off | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 3.5k words

An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content. Drinking, casual drug use, Avengers wearing onesies for reasons, very flirty Bucky, p in v & oral sex. Rated R for ridiculous.

A/N: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Okay, ‘fess up, who ate all my brownies?” You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.

The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for “rest, recuperation and team building”, you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you’d signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks.

“Not me!” Steve admitted, far too quickly. “I didn’t eat them.” He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about.

You narrowed your eyes, “Well, you sure know something.” He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation.

“Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin’ 'bout brownies."

"Nuthin’” Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. “My wings!” He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.

“Have you spoken to James?” Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you’d shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.

“James? Bucky?"

Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.

Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts.

But life just wasn’t that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give.

"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?” You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray.

“Bambi!” The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn’t seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood.

“Ha, yeah, like Bambi.” You giggled.

“And I’m Thumper!” He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face.

“Because you punch people?” You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky’s arms.

Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth.

“No! Thumper in Bambi!"

"The girl rabbit?” Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice.

“Thumper is a boy.” Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.

“How would you know?” Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.

“Because, Sam, I’ve seen Bambi."

"What?” Tony’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you’d ever seen Bucky, you wouldn’t be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it.

“I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out,” he said proudly.

“That’s right, I remember!” Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. “We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi’s mom got shot and he was all alone."

"Don’t spoil it, Stevie.” Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, “Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”

You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang.

"We can go, I’ll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like.” His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. “What d'ya say?"

Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you’d internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned.

So you screamed "Yes!” outloud for once.

He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes.

“Yeah it’s nice, right?”

“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. “My own little Bambi.”

“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit.

“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm.

“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely.

“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.”

“Jesus. That’s…intense.”

He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled.

“Can I?”

“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours.

Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist.

“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm?

“You know with your floppy ears you could be-” your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, “you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!"

Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much as Thumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag.

Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him.

You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back!

“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?”

He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours.

“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying.

“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.”

“Oh, is it working?”

“You have to tell me that, silly!”

“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen.

“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine.

A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view.

“I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.”

“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she’s ours to influence,” he returned, proudly.

Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.

“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink.

But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes.

“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles.

“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.”

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!”

“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?”

Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie.

“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?”

Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up.

“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve.

“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!”

“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist.

“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong.

Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours.

“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so.

“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away.

“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.”

Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.”

And then you were alone.

You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled.

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself.

He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed.

“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles.

“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders.

Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip.

“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?”

Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet.

“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly.

Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves.

“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.”

“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.”

“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.”

“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move.

“I do!”

“Tell me then.”

His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.”

“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.”

“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”

“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.”

“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.”

“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move.

“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you.

He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control.

“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.

"I want you too.” He nodded, bumping your heads together.

You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you.

“Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere.” His wide eyed expression made you smile.

“You’re kinda soft too, Bucky.” This side of him was one you’d been dying to see, unguarded and playful.

He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you’d been locked together.

You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other’s warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe.

Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton.

You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady.

“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you.

Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided.

You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky #Bucky smut #Bucky Barnes smut

763 notes · View notes

jaeyunluvbot · 9 days ago

Text

bite the hand

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 enemies to lovers-ish, college au, hockey player!sunghoon, slightly nerdy!reader, angst, happy ending

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.6k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You take a deep breath, staring at your computer screen as you will yourself to finish your lab report before the weekend. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above only makes it harder to focus, their droning buzz tugging at your already fragile attention span.

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands as another burst of laughter erupts from the table next to you. The group of students there seems oblivious to the library’s supposed quiet rule, their chatter growing louder with every passing minute. A part of you wants to tell them to shut up, but the thought of confronting them fills you with dread.

Your eyes drift back to the unfinished lab report, mocking you with every cursor blink. Defeated, you shut your laptop with a sharp click and shove it into your bag. You’ve had enough of the noise, deciding that the solitude of your dorm is a far better place to work—or nap.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder and stand to leave, you throw one last glare at the rowdy table. Your irritation deepens when your eyes meet Park Sunghoon’s. He’s sitting there, mid-laugh, but the second your gazes lock, his amusement falters into surprise. Embarrassed, you look away and hurry out of the library, the encounter making your retreat feel even more awkward.

On your way back to your dorm, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A quick glance reveals an email notification from your professor. You unlock your phone, opening the email and skimming its contents. He’s asking if you’d be willing to tutor a struggling student who’s in danger of failing their class. There’s payment involved, and the arrangement would look good on your resume, but the thought of adding another task to your packed schedule makes you hesitate.

After weighing your options, you sigh and type out a reply. I’ll do it.

Reaching your dorm, you toss your bag onto the floor and collapse onto your bed without even bothering to change your clothes. Sleep comes quickly, a much-needed reprieve from your overworked mind.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, you walk into your chemistry lab, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You’d managed to finish your lab report over the weekend, but at the cost of the recovery time you desperately needed. Now, the decision to tutor feels like a mistake. Scanning the room, you notice several students looking as lost as ever, and you dread the thought of figuring out which one you’d be charged with helping.

Once the lab ends, you pack your things and prepare to leave, but your professor’s voice cuts through the buzz of conversation. “Y/N, could you stay for a moment?”

You pause, your curiosity mingling with annoyance. As you approach his desk, you notice someone standing beside him. It’s Park Sunghoon.

Your stomach sinks. He looks as sheepish as you feel, his hands shoved into his pockets and his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N,” your professor begins with a smile, “I’d like you to meet the student you’ll be tutoring��Park Sunghoon. Sunghoon, this is Y/N. I’m confident you two will make a great team.”

Sunghoon glances at you, his lips quirking into an awkward smile. “Uh, hi,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

You force a smile, your irritation at the boy bubbling up despite your best efforts to bury it. Of all people…

You clear your throat and nod stiffly. “Hi,” you reply, finding it difficult to keep your voice level.

Your professor beams, clearly oblivious to the awkwardness between you. “Why don’t you two exchange contact information so you can set up a time to meet?”

Sunghoon hesitates briefly, then pulls out his phone. You mirror the action, feeling your stomach twist as a rush of old memories surfaces—memories you’d rather forget. He recites his number, and you type it in, deliberately avoiding eye contact as you save it to your contacts under a simple Park Sunghoon.

“I’ll text you later,” you say sharply, locking your phone and slipping it back into your pocket. “We can figure out a schedule then.”

“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, his voice softer than you remember. He fidgets, glancing at you briefly before looking away, not that you noticed, having avoided contact, visual or not, with him since you left high school.

Your professor clasps his hands together, clearly satisfied. “Perfect! Thanks again, Y/N—you’re doing a great thing.”

You force a tight smile, muttering a polite response before excusing yourself. The moment you step out of the classroom, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

Park Sunghoon. Of course, it had to be him...

The walk to work feels longer than usual, your mind spiraling as you replay the memories you’ve worked so hard to bury. Sunghoon hadn’t been the worst person in high school—not overtly cruel, at least—but he had been a part of the group that made your life hell. His hockey teammates were relentless with their taunts, mocking your clothes, your grades, even the way you walked. And while Sunghoon never joined in directly, he never stopped them either. He just stood by, laughing along like it was some kind of joke.

You swallow hard, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. Maybe he’s changed since then. It’s been a couple of years, after all. People grow up, right? But the thought of spending time with him—helping him, of all things—makes your stomach churn.

By the time you reach the café, your frustration has morphed into a simmering resentment. You shove your bag into the staff locker and tie your apron around your waist, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand.

The hum of the espresso machine and the steady stream of customers provide a welcome distraction, but Sunghoon’s face lingers in the back of your mind. What was your professor thinking, asking you to tutor him? And why had you agreed so quickly?

You paste on a customer-service smile as you take another order, trying to shake off the unease. Maybe this would be fine. Maybe he wasn’t the same person he used to be. But as much as you want to believe that, a voice in the back of your head whispers otherwise.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, after exchanging a few brief texts with Sunghoon, you agree to meet in one of the smaller study rooms in the library. You keep the messages as formal and impersonal as possible, giving him the time and location with no room for small talk.

When you arrive, he’s already there, slouched in a chair with his phone in hand. He looks up as you walk in, straightening slightly but not saying anything. You drop your bag onto the table and pull out your notebook and laptop, keeping your eyes on your supplies instead of him.

“Let’s get started,” you say curtly, flipping open the notebook to the notes you’ve prepared. “What exactly are you struggling with?”

Sunghoon shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Pretty much everything.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. “Okay, well, we’re going to start with the basics. If you don’t understand those, there’s no point in moving forward.” You flip to the beginning of your notebook, clearly having underestimated just how behind he was.

Sunghoon listens, his expression unreadable. He nods occasionally, jotting down notes without comment. Every time you ask if he has questions, he shakes his head, his indifference irritating you even more.

The air between you feels tense, the silence only broken by the sound of your pen scratching against the paper or the occasional rustle of Sunghoon shifting in his seat. You stick strictly to the material, explaining concepts and walking him through problems all while avoiding eye contact with him.

After about an hour, you close your notebook with a decisive snap. “That’s enough for today,” you say, packing up your things quickly. “Practice these problems before our next session, or this’ll be a waste of time.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at your tone but doesn’t say anything. “Got it,” he says, his voice as neutral as yours.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand, eager to leave. As you head for the door, Sunghoon’s voice stops you.

“Hey,” he says, and you turn reluctantly to face him. He looks at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Thanks, I guess. For doing this.”

You blink, caught off guard, but quickly school your features into neutrality. “Don’t thank me yet,” you say, and walk out without another word.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It had been weeks since you started tutoring Sunghoon, and while he had made some minimal progress, his commitment—or lack thereof—was driving you insane. With the big exam coming up, you’d been trying to schedule an extra session to review the material, but every time you texted him, he either claimed he was busy with hockey or straight-up ignored your messages.

You slammed your phone onto your desk after yet another unread text from him. Why am I even trying?

By the time your next class rolled around, you were on the verge of screaming. As soon as the lecture ended, you spotted him at the back of the room, chatting casually with one of his friends. Your frustration boiled over.

“Sunghoon!” you called sharply, cutting through the buzz of students packing up.

He glanced over, startled, and his friend quickly ducked out of the way, sensing the tension. You marched up to him, your jaw tight and your eyes blazing.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped, ignoring the stares from a few lingering classmates. “You’ve been ignoring my texts for the last week. I’m done.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you wasting my time,” you hissed. “I’ve been trying to help you, but you don’t even care enough to show up half the time! Do you think I don’t have better things to do?”

He frowned, his expression darkening. “I do care. I just—”

“No, you don’t,” you cut him off. “You care about hockey and parties and whatever else you’re doing instead of studying. But you don’t care about passing this class, and I’m not going to keep wasting my time on someone who obviously doesn't care or respect my time.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Then he said, his voice tight, “If I fail, I can’t play. I’ll get benched.”

You stared at him, was he seriously saying that right now? “And whose fault is that?” you asked sharply. “You think I’m the one who’s been skipping sessions and ignoring texts? This is on you, Sunghoon. Not me.”

His face flushed, whether from embarrassment or anger, you couldn’t tell. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his bag. “Do whatever you want.”

“Fine,” you shot back.

He walked past you without another word, leaving you standing there with your fists clenched at your sides. The stares from the remaining students felt like needles in your skin, but you ignored them, storming out of the room and heading straight for your dorm.

As soon as you got to your desk, you opened your laptop and began typing out an email to your professor. You kept it short and professional, explaining that you could no longer tutor Sunghoon due to his lack of commitment and unwillingness to prioritize his studies.

After hitting send, you sat back in your chair, rubbing your temples. You wanted to feel relieved, but the knot in your chest only seemed to tighten.

Why do I even care? you wondered. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the image of Sunghoon’s frustrated expression—or the way his voice cracked when he said he couldn’t play.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The big exam had come and gone, with you achieving a perfect score, as usual, and for the first time in what felt like ages, your schedule had a lull. No tutoring, no extra shifts at the café, and no urgent RA duties. You spent most of the afternoon snuggled up in bed, watching your favorite movies and generally rotting away. You’d stopped thinking about Sunghoon entirely—except for the occasional pang of irritation when you remembered his smirk or the way he shrugged off your tutoring sessions. Whether he passed or failed, you didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t care.

By evening, Liz and Wonyoung showed up at your dorm with all the energy of a cheer routine. Liz, your partner in suffering as a chemical engineering major, was insisting that you went out with them.

“You’ve been cooped up for weeks,” Liz said, digging through your closet. “You need a break. And a drink.”

“I don’t know…” you hesitated, but Wonyoung cut you off.

“No excuses. It’s Friday night, and you deserve to have some fun for once.”

Before you could argue further, Liz pulled out a dress you hadn’t worn in ages—a sleek, flattering number that made you feel good about yourself, but nervous at the same time. They practically shoved you into the bathroom to change, and when you finally emerged, their reactions made you blush.

“Okay, wow,” Liz said, grinning. “You look amazing.”

“Absolute goddess,” Wonyoung added. “You look perfect.”

Despite your initial hesitation, you agreed to go, your nerves bubbling under the surface. You couldn’t help but worry if Sunghoon would be there. After all, hockey players and college parties went hand in hand, and you knew his teammates and old friends would be out in full force.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, music thumping through the walls of the off-campus house. You stuck close to Liz, nursing a drink she handed you as you tried to shake off your discomfort.

“Relax,” Liz said, nudging you. “You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”

You took another sip, then another, letting the alcohol lessen the weight of stress on your chest. The more you drank, the less out of place you felt—though Liz kept an eye on you.

“Maybe slow down,” she said after your third drink.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, waving her off. “I just… need to relax. This helps.”

But your slight sense of calm shattered when you saw a group of people from your high school clustered near the back of the room. Among them was Sunghoon, leaning against the wall with that same effortless confidence that had always irritated you.

You tried to ignore them, but it didn’t take long for the group to notice you.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” one of them said, their voice cutting through the noise of the party.

“Oh my god, it is,” another chimed in. “Didn’t she always have her nose in a book back in high school?”

“And now look at her,” someone else snickered. “Trying way too hard.”

Your stomach sank, and you turned to walk away, but their laughter followed you.

“Shut up,” you heard Sunghoon say, his voice sharp.

The group fell silent, and you glanced back to see him glaring at them. For a split second, your eyes met his, but you turned and hurried toward the door before he could say anything.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, and you started walking, the alcohol making your steps uneven. You just needed to get home, to get away from all of it.

“Y/N, wait!”

You groaned, hearing Sunghoon’s voice behind you. “Go away, Sunghoon.”

He jogged to catch up, falling into step beside you. “You can’t walk home alone. You’re drunk.”

“I don’t care,” you muttered, picking up your pace.

He grabbed your arm gently, stopping you. “I care. Even if you hate me, I’m not letting you do this.”

You yanked your arm away, glaring at him. “Why do you care now? You didn’t care back then. You just stood there and let them treat me like garbage.”

He flinched, his expression softening. “I know,” he said quietly. “I was a coward. I should’ve done something, and I didn’t. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“Great,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. “You regret it. That doesn’t change anything.”

He looked at you, his jaw tight. “I know it doesn’t. But I’m sorry. For all of it.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, but the anger bubbling in your chest wouldn’t let you accept it. Without another word, you turned and marched up to your dorm, slamming the door in his face as soon as you got inside.

Your phone buzzed with a text a few minutes later:

Park Sunghoon: Are you okay? Please let me know you got home safe.

You stared at the screen, your emotions a tangled mess. But you didn’t reply.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve managed to avoid Sunghoon for weeks now, successfully shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. For once, your schedule feels manageable—no last-minute tutoring sessions or stressful emails from your professor. You even have some free time to relax, which you’ve been using to catch up on sleep and unwind.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon feels like his guilt is eating him alive. Every time he sees you in class, he wants to apologize again, but the memory of your anger and disappointment keeps holding him back. His friends don’t make it easier.

“Forget her, dude. She’s just some uptight nerd. She's not worth it,” one of them says during lunch, laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

But instead of agreeing, something inside Sunghoon snaps. He realizes that every time he’s around them, they make him feel worse about himself. About everything.

“You know what? I’m done,” he mutters, standing up and walking away, ignoring their confused calls after him.

For the first time in a long time, Sunghoon feels like he’s doing something right.

He starts studying more seriously, forcing himself to focus during lectures and spending time in the library instead of at parties. It’s frustrating at first—everything feels harder without someone to guide him. But little by little, he starts to understand the material.

When his professor hands back their graded exams weeks later, Sunghoon’s heart pounds in his chest. He flips it over and stares at the bold “B” at the top of the page. It’s not an A, but it’s the best grade he’s gotten all semester.

He wants to text you immediately, to show you that he’s not the same person you yelled at. He types out a message, attaching a picture of the exam: “Look, I actually passed! I wouldn’t have been able to do this without your help."

But the text sits unread, as do all the other ones he had sent you.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’re just leaving work when you see him waiting outside, a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand.

“Sunghoon?” you ask, stopping in your tracks.

He looks nervous but determined. “Can I talk to you? Just for a minute?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He steps closer, holding up the exam. “I just… wanted to show you this. I got a B.”

You glance at the grade and then back at him. “Ok,” you say flatly, trying to walk past him, but he moves to block your path.

“Please,” he says. “I need to say this.”

You pause, your exhaustion fighting with your curiosity. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts, his voice soft but steady. “Not just for wasting your time or blowing you off during tutoring. For everything. For how I treated you in high school, for standing by when my friends were jerks to you. I was a coward, and I didn’t know how to deal with… anything, honestly.”

His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself staring at him, speechless.

“I’m not trying to excuse it. I just wanted you to know that I hate the way I treated you. I hate that I hurt you. And I hate that I gave you every reason to think I’m just some… useless asshole.” He takes a deep breath. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying to change. To prove to myself that I’m not that guy anymore.”

You let his words sink in, the anger and hurt you’ve carried for years simmering just beneath the surface.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “You were a coward. And you did hurt me.”

He flinches, but you keep going.

“But… I can see you’re trying. And I respect that.”

His eyes light up with a glimmer of hope. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “It means I’m not as mad at you anymore. But trust takes time, Sunghoon. You’ll have to prove it.”

“I will,” he promises, his voice earnest. “I won’t let you down again.”

With that, you finally let yourself smile, just a little. “We’ll see.”

As you walk away, you can’t help but feel like something has shifted. Maybe, just maybe, people really can change.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a few weeks since the two of you started working together again. Sunghoon is doing better in class—much better, actually—and has taken a noticeable turn for the better in life. He’s distanced himself from his old friends, who never did much for him except drag him down.

As much as you still don’t fully trust him, you can’t ignore how much he’s changed. He’s more focused now, more respectful, and maybe, just maybe, even a little bit likable.

And to your surprise, you’re starting to enjoy spending time with him, both in and out of tutoring. He’s always there now, walking to class with you, grabbing coffee, or just hanging out in the library when you’re working on assignments. He even comes along with you, Liz, and Wonyoung for some of your late-night hangouts, laughing along with your jokes, even if he doesn’t quite understand all the girl talk.

Liz and Wonyoung start giving each other knowing looks, and one night, after Sunghoon heads home, Liz grins mischievously.

“So, what’s going on between you two?” she asks casually.

You freeze. “What do you mean?”

Wonyoung snickers. “You two spend so much time together, and we see the way he looks at you. You sure you’re not into him?”

You shake your head, a nervous laugh escaping. “No. Definitely not. We’re just tutoring partners.”

Liz raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. If that’s true, then why are you so distracted every time he texts you? Why do you smile like that when his name pops up?”

You feel your face flush. “Shut up,” you mutter, pulling a pillow over your face. “I don’t like him. I just—he’s been there for me, ok? He’s changed.”

“Sure, sure,” Liz teases. “But you’re definitely into him. Don’t worry, we won't judge you.”

You groan into the pillow, but part of you wonders if they’re right. You’ve been trying to ignore the flutter in your chest when he’s near, the way your heart speeds up when he smiles at you or gives you one of those rare, genuine compliments. But you push it all aside. You don’t want to get hurt again, not after everything that happened in high school.

So, you keep things casual. You hang out, study together, laugh at his lame jokes, but you keep a distance.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, has been wrestling with his feelings for a while. He knows, deep down, that he likes you. And not just in a surface-level, "oh, she's cute" way. He values your company more than he thought possible. Your patience, your intelligence, your warmth—everything about you pulls him in, and every time he sees you, he wants to be closer.

But you’ve been pulling away recently, and it’s driving him crazy. He doesn’t know what’s changed, but he can feel the distance. And he doesn’t like it. Not at all.

So, after days of thinking it over, he makes up his mind. He can’t keep pretending he’s okay with just being your friend, your tutoring client. He decides to tell you how he feels, ignoring the risk and the burn of anxiety in his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s another Friday night when he shows up at your dorm, unannounced. Liz and Wonyoung are with you, watching a movie and chatting when you hear a knock at the door.

“Ugh, who’s that?” Liz mumbles as she gets up to answer it.

When she opens the door, Sunghoon stands there, his hands in his pockets and an anxious look on his face.

“I need to talk to Y/N,” he says, glancing over her shoulder at you.

“Uh, no, we’re having a girls’ night,” Liz says with a playful but firm tone. “What’s up, Hoon?”

Sunghoon looks from Liz to Wonyoung, then back at you. “I—I need to talk to her. It’s important.”

There’s something so serious in his eyes that it catches your attention. You stand up slowly, excusing yourself from the couch.

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you two alone,” Liz says with a wink, grabbing Wonyoung’s hand and dragging her out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut, Sunghoon steps forward. His nervousness is palpable.

“Listen, I don’t know how to say this properly, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way,” he starts, looking at you with a vulnerability that’s hard to ignore. “I’ve been an idiot, and I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t. But I like you, Y/N. I don’t know how else to say it, but I do.”

You blink at him, taken aback.

“I like you,” he repeats, more firmly this time, stepping closer. “And I think… I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I know this might sound out of nowhere, but I’ve been holding it in and pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You’re the person I want to be around. You’re the person I want to be with. So, I’m asking you…” He takes a deep breath. “Will you go out with me?”

You stand frozen, feeling a rush of emotions flood over you. The mix of confusion, joy, and fear swirls inside you. Your heart races in your chest as his words settle in.

It feels unreal—like this is some dream where everything is finally falling into place. But even so, you hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to take the leap.

But as you look at him, his earnest face, his sincerity, and the way he’s looking at you with so much hope, you can’t help but say it.

“Yes.”

Sunghoon’s face lights up, relief flooding through him as a wide smile spreads across his face. He reaches out to take your hand gently.

“I promise I won’t mess this up,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next day, Liz and Wonyoung don’t waste a single second, pouncing on you as soon as they see you.

“You’re dating Sunghoon now, aren’t you?” Liz asks, her grin stretching across her face.

You try to act casual, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I guess I am.”

Wonyoung jumps up from her seat, practically tackling you in a hug. “Oh my God, we knew it! We knew it!”

Liz joins in the celebration, and you can’t help but laugh, even as the excitement bubbles up inside you. Sunghoon might’ve been a jerk before, but now, he’s someone you can trust. And for the first time in a long time, you’re excited to see where things go from here.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 ummmm i can't tell if i like this or not but oh well i'm too lazy to rewrite it. also sorry for so many text breaks i'm so bad at writing transitions. also thanks to my pookie kenzie for helping me think of the plot :3

#jaeyunluvbot #kpop #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #x reader #enhypen #enhypen angst #fluff #park sunhoon #college au

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jayjay-plus · 2 years ago

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ive blocked more porn bots than should be asked of me, perhaps i will just admit defeat and watch as we are inevitably overrun by a calvary of digital-std ridden beaus

#im so done #they can inflate my following count as much as they please #for i shall abstain from traversing into the enemy territory so temptingly presented to me in a misleadingly harmless looking link reading:#melanie🌸 19👈 realesate agent🏡#for within these innocent looking packages #there lies in wait a beast #a beast who may come to you in an email #perhaps as a desperate nigerian prince #even armed with the knowledge of the beast’s existence #i am plagued by a curiosity so mighty it nearly kills me #for what is the nature of this beast?#mayhaps these packages do contain some of which they promise #perhaps i will be merely led into a land infected with the rot of capitalism littered with unskipable ads #containing the apparently longed for pornography #and then i may safely retreat #my curiosity quenched #you can see my struggle #but i will continue to fight the urge #and ignore poor melanie #who was created only to lead such a unfulfilling life

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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The real problem with anonymity

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in TUCSON (Mar 9-10), then San Francisco (Mar 13), Anaheim, and more!

According to "the greater internet fuckwad theory," the ills of the internet can be traced to anonymity:

Normal Person + Anonymity + Audience = Total Fuckwad

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/greater-internet-fuckwad-theory

This isn't merely wrong, it's dangerously wrong. The idea that forcing people to identify themselves online will improve discourse is demonstrably untrue. Facebook famously adopted its "real names" policy because Mark Zuckerberg claimed to believe that "Having two identities for yourself is an example of a lack of integrity":

https://www.zephoria.org/thoughts/archives/2010/05/14/facebook-and-radical-transparency-a-rant.html

In service to this claimed belief, Zuckerberg kicked off the "nym wars," turning himself into the sole arbiter of what each person's true name was, with predictably tragicomic consequences:

https://www.kalzumeus.com/2010/06/17/falsehoods-programmers-believe-about-names/

Facebook is, famously, one of the internet's most polluted reservoirs of toxic interpersonal conduct. That's not despite the fact that people have to use their "real" names to participate there, but because of it. After all, the people who are most vulnerable to bullying and harassment are the ones who choose pseudonyms or anonymity so that they can speak freely. Forcing people to use their "real names" means that the most powerful bullies speak with impunity, and their victims are faced with the choice of retreat or being targeted offline.

This can be a matter of life and death. Cambodian dictator Hun Sen uses Facebook's real names policy to force dissidents to unmask themselves, which exposes them to arbitrary detention, torture, and extrajudicial killing. For members of the Cambodian diaspora, the choice is to unmask themselves or expose their family back home to retaliation:

https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/meghara/facebook-cambodia-democracy

Some of the biggest internet fuckwads I've ever met – and I've met some big ones! – were utterly unashamed about using their real names. Some of the nicest people I know online have never told me their offline names. Greater internet fuckwad theory is just plain wrong.

But that doesn't mean that anonymity is totally harmless. There is a category of person who reliably uses a certain, specific kind of anonymity to do vicious things that inflicts serious harm on whole swathes of people: corporate bullies.

Take Tinyletter. Tinyletter is a beloved newsletter app that was created to help people who just wanted to talk to others, without a thought to going viral or getting rich. It was sold to Mailchimp, which was sold to Intuit, who killed it:

https://www.theverge.com/24085737/tinyletter-mailchimp-shut-down-email-newsletters

Tinyletter was a perfect little gem of a service. It cost almost nothing to run, and made an enormous number of peoples' lives better every day. Shutting it down was an act of corporate depravity by some faceless Intuit manager who woke up one day and said "Fuck all those people. Just fuck them."

No one knows who that person was. That person will never have to look those people in the eyes – those people whose lives were made poorer for that Intuit executive's indifference. That person is the greater fuckwad, and that fuckwaddery depends on their anonymity.

Or take @Pixsy, a corporate shakedown outfit that helps copyleft trolls trick people into making tiny errors in Creative Commons attributions and then intimidates them into handing over thousands of dollars:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/24/a-bug-in-early-creative-commons-licenses-has-enabled-a-new-breed-of-superpredator/

Copyleft trolling is an absolutely depraved practice, a petty grift practiced by greedy fuckwads who are completely indifferent to the harm they cause – even if it means bankrupting volunteer-run nonprofits for a buck:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/02/commafuckers-versus-the-commons/

Pixsy claims that it is proud of its work "defending artists' rights," but when I named the personnel who signed their names to these profoundly unethical legal threats, Pixsy CEO Kain Jones threatened to sue me:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/13/an-open-letter-to-pixsy-ceo-kain-jones-who-keeps-sending-me-legal-threats/

The expectation of corporate anonymity runs deep and the press is surprisingly complicit. I once spent weeks working on an investigative story about a multinational corporation's practices. I spent hours on the phone with the company's VP of communications, over the course of many calls. When we were done, they said, "Now, of course, you can't name me in the article. All of that has to be attributed to 'a spokesperson.'"

I was baffled. Nothing this person said was a secret. They weren't blowing the whistle. They weren't leaking secrets. They were a corporate official, telling me the official corporate line. But they wouldn't sign their name to it.

I wrote an article about for the Guardian. It was the only Guardian column any of my editors there ever rejected, in more than a decade of writing for them:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/05/14/anodyne-anonymity/

Given the press's deference to this anodyne anonymity, it's no wonder that official spokespeople expect this kind of anonymity. I routinely receive emails from corporate spokespeople disputing my characterization of their employer's conduct, but insisting that I not attribute their dubious – and often blatantly false – statements to them by name.

These are the greater corporate fuckwads, who commit their sins from behind a veil of anonymity. That brand of bloodless viciousness, depravity and fraud absolutely depends on anonymity.

Mark Zuckerberg claimed that "multiple identities" enabled bad behavior – as though it was somehow healthy for people to relate to their bosses, lovers, parents, toddlers and barbers in exactly the same way. Zuckerberg's motivation was utterly transparent: having "multiple identities" doesn't mean you "lack integrity" – it just makes it harder to target you for ads.

But Zuckerberg couldn't enshittify Facebook on his own. For that, he relies on a legion of anonymous Facebook managers. Some of these people undoubtably speak up for Facebook users' interests when their colleagues propose putting them in harm's way for the sake of some arbitrary KPI. But the ones who are making those mean little decisions? They absolutely rely on anonymity to do their dirty work.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/04/greater-corporate-fuckward-theory/#counterintuit-ive

#pluralistic #tinyletter #enshittification #greater internet fuckwad theory #real names #nymwars #intuit #mailchimp

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