#gripping your shoulders screaming and crying

[littlelamy]

𝓼𝓾𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓸𝔀𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝔁

lamy's notes: something for you guys to read during the game

the game is on, but rafe doesn’t give a shit. doesn’t care about the screaming commentators or the roaring crowd on the screen, doesn’t care that his friends are in the other room, glued to the tv. all he cares about is you—spread out beneath him on the couch, legs wrapped tight around his waist, eyes glassy with need.

“keep quiet,” he mutters, but it’s pointless, because he doesn’t actually mean it. he likes the way you squirm, likes the way your breath catches when he presses his cock deeper, stretching you open in slow, deliberate strokes. the noise from the tv masks your soft moans, but he hears them, feels them vibrating against his lips when he presses his mouth to yours.

“rafe—” your voice is a whisper, a plea, and he groans, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you closer until there’s not a single inch of space left between you. “they’re gonna hear—”

he smirks, nipping at your jaw, at your neck, at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “let ‘em.” his voice is thick, wrecked, dark with something possessive. he wants them to know. wants them to hear just how good he’s fucking you, how you’re unraveling under him while they sit oblivious in the next room, thinking football is the most exciting thing happening tonight.

his thrusts get rougher, deeper, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the couch. your nails dig into his back, a desperate attempt to ground yourself as pleasure coils hot and tight in your stomach. he can feel it, can see it in the way your body trembles, in the way your lips part on a silent gasp.

“gonna cum for me?” he breathes, his hand slipping between you, fingers rubbing tight, teasing circles over your clit. you nod, too far gone to form words, and he groans, his own release creeping up fast. “fuck—go on, baby. let go.”

and you do. you shatter beneath him, muffling your cry against his shoulder as your body clenches, pulses, drags him right over the edge with you. he buries himself deep, cursing low and rough as he spills inside you, hips stuttering, body shaking.

for a moment, neither of you move. the only sound is the distant roar of the crowd from the tv, the aftermath of a touchdown neither of you saw. rafe lets out a breathless chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “guess we missed that play.”

he pulls back just enough to see your face, to watch the way you smile, dazed and satisfied. “worth it,” you murmur, and he grins, already thinking about round two before halftime.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx

[captain-huggy-bear]

Into the Penalty Box

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Jack has to put your son in the sin bin...

Notes: Short but I had this really fun idea for how Jack doles out consequences as a dad.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"Jack, baby...Carter just bit Ellen." You're tugging Carter along behind you by the wrist gently, he's pouting at the entire way and dragging his feet. Ellen is in your arms sniffling and crying into your shoulder because her big brother (at the tender age of 5 years old) decided that the best way to get rid of his 'annoying' baby sister (of 2) was to bite her. Hard. On the arm.

"Let me see, baby girl." Your daughter holds her arm out to her dad, who's suitably sympathetic, cooing over the teeth marks and pressing a kiss there to 'make it better'. It brings a smile to her little face, tears starting to dry up, but leaving blotchy redness behind.

Once Jack has dealt with the issue of his baby girl crying he turns to his son who you've release your grip on knowing he's unlikely to make a run for it and has typically been pretty good at accepting punishment. Mostly because he's stubborn enough that he always wants to plead his case first.

Jack folds his arms across his chest looking down at the spitting image of himself at 5 years old, light brown near blonde curls, bright blue eyes, chubby blushing cheeks and many missing teeth. Carter is Jack, rowdy, loud, full of energy and from time to time fed up with having a baby sibling who wants his attention all the time. One day he'll grow to love it, hate when his sister stops idolising him, but for now? For now apparently biting has become his new solution and Jack had always taught him that biting was not something they did in their house.

You bounce Ellen in your arms, running a hand over her hair and down her back while you watch Jack crouch down to Carter's level. Jack, despite people's belief, was a disciplinarian. Just not in the usual way...he never shouted, he didn't scream, he didn't insult the kids, none of the typical old school dad stuff, but what he did do always seemed to work.

"Bud, you can't bite your sister."

"But she was being annoying!" It's like watching a second Jack, the way Carter folds his arms across his little chest and puffs out his cheeks as he pouts. You're surprised he didn't stomp a foot on the floor, but it seems he learnt from last time that that only got him more penalty minutes.

"I don't care, it's against the rules, bud, against the code. You've got 5 minutes in the penalty box, get." Jack points to the corner of your living room where the penalty box sits. At first the penalty box had been simply a pillow in the corner, but one summer Jack, Quinn and Luke had spent some time and money making a replica penalty box that sat perfectly in your living room. At first you'd been...less than pleased, but now it was the highlight of your parenting adventures. The way Carter would slam the little door closed, how he'd pout on the bench and drink from the water bottle you always put in there for him as he'd watch the little clock. Whenever he was in hockey gear it was made even better, especially the replica Devils Jersey Luke had gotten him one Christmas. Then it really was like watching a baby Jack sitting in the sin bin.

"But you bite mom!" Carter's face practically goes bright red with his frustration, brows so furrowed they're almost in his eyes and this time he does stomp his feet.

There's a beat of silence, one in which you do your very best not to laugh because Jack's play biting apparently has come back to haunt him. All those times he's come home and pretended to take chomp out of your arm or neck, every time he placed a kiss on your neck in front of Carter only to bite you lightly to make you laugh...

Jack tries everything in his power to remain stern, to not laugh, to not give in because fuck, he's really dug himself a hole with this one, "I nibble on your mom, I don't 'bite' her and I never hurt her. You were trying and succeeded in hurting your baby sister."

"Dad!"

"Do you want another 5 for unsportsmanlike conduct?" Jack's favourite tool whenever Carter or Ellen start to argue back to him, although mostly Carter. Ellen has yet to reach the terrible period of defiance that all toddlers go through.

"No..."

"So into the penalty box, bud." You both watch as Carter slumps off towards the box, slamming the door closed behind him, the wood and plastic wobbling slightly under the force of it.

He sits on the bench, arms crossed, glaring at the clock. Jack sets a timer for 5 minutes and you watch. There's something about watching either of the kids in the box that's interesting because you can see the moment they start to cool down and realise that maybe they're in there for a reason.

With Carter it's the way he starts to look towards Ellen, face scrunched up in guilt, biting on his little lip. You know at 2 minutes and 24 seconds in the sin bin, that Carter will never bite Ellen again and you know that he understands that he hurt her, really hurt her.

It's what has you putting her down and letting her waddle towards the box nearer to the time being over and what has you opening the box a minute early.

You lean into Jack's side and watch as Carter leans down and pulls his baby sister into a hug, before reaching for her arm and placing a kiss on the boo boo where he bite her a little too hard.

"'m sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have bit you."

"'s okay, Cay-Cay" Because she always struggled to fully say Carter so he'd become Cay-Cay to her. She pats his cheek with her little hand and you know, you know it'll be okay, that you're raising two good kids even if they have their moments.

"Sin bin works again, and you wanted to get rid of it." Jack looks smugly down at you, all dimples and stupidly attractive smirk as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes at him even as you lean further into him, "Yes, well, I guess you have good ideas sometimes...biter."

"Hey! You love when I bite you...just, maybe need to avoid the jokes around the kids...did not see that coming."

[bytemee]

crying on stream (not clickbait) — yu jimin.

synopsis. you really need to stop playing random horrors at 2 am.

pairing. karina x gn!streamer!reader

warning(s). reader cries at a horror game, emotional support gf karina, this is so silly and sweet, let me know if there's more

words. 639

authors note. 1/2 drafts im posting tn before all the freaky stuff and angst floods my page. this is also based off this tiktok i saw

masterlist. navigation.

you had no idea why you thought playing a horror game at 2 a.m. was a good idea—especially with karina asleep in the next room. but here you were, curled up in your chair, gripping your keyboard like your life depended on it. your chat was loving every second, spamming laughing emojis and "you're so cooked" messages.

then, it happened.

the door behind your character slammed shut. the screen flickered. a deep, guttural noise rumbled through your headphones.

you froze. your breath caught in your throat, hands hovering over the controls, but you could not bring yourself to move.

"no, no, no, no, no..." you whispered, barely making a sound.

username LMAOOO YOU'RE SO DONE username WHY AREN'T YOU MOVING HELLO?? username NAH THIS IS BAD 😂

your fingers twitched over the keys, but before you could even think about getting out—

the screen went completely black.

your headphones crackled. a distorted whisper slithered through the speakers, low and scratchy, like something breathing right into your ear. then, for half a second, the lights in the game flickered back on—

the killer was right behind you.

you slammed the pause button.

your whole body locked up, muscles so tight it felt like you might pass out. chat was going insane, but their messages barely registered.

you couldn't scream. not with karina asleep. you couldn't even let out a proper gasp.

instead, a quiet sob slipped out before you could stop it.

you pressed a hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking as you tried to breathe. tears welled up, but you blinked fast, trying to keep yourself together.

username ARE YOU CRYING BRO?? username NAH THIS GAME REALLY BROKE THEM username this is so sad but funny at the same time 😭😭😭

after a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to unpause.

you needed to get out.

with shaky hands, you turned the lights back on, unlocked the door, and ran. the second you stepped out of that room, you ripped your hands off the keyboard, dropping them into your lap as a deep exhale left you. a few stray tears slipped down your face, and you wiped them away, sniffling.

"oh my god," you muttered, still feeling the adrenaline in your veins.

then—

a tap on your shoulder.

you screamed.

the fear you'd been barely holding in came crashing down all at once. you flinched so hard your chair almost tipped over, another choked sob slipping out as you panicked.

your chat lost their minds.

username HELPPPP username THAT WAS NOT THE GAME?? username DID Y'ALL SEE THEIR SOUL LEAVE THEIR BODY username I THINK THEY JUST DIED IRL

then came the worst part—a soft, familiar laugh.

your head snapped to the side, eyes wide as you saw karina standing there, looking impossibly amused despite being fresh out of sleep. dress in your an oversized hoodie, her hair a little messy, she smiled at you before shaking her head.

"you're so dramatic," she whispered, barely containing her giggles.

you didn't even have the energy to argue. Without thinking, you reached for her, pulling her into a hug off-camera. she easily melted into you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and resting her chin on your head.

username WHO IS THAT???? 😳

username WE CAN SEE THE SHADOW WTF username THE WAY THEY JUST WENT SILENT TO HUG THE AIR LIKE BFFR

karina ran her hand up and down your back, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before whispering, "you okay?"

you nodded against her shoulder. "i hate this game."

she snorted. "then stop playing horror games at night, hm?"

you sniffled. "never."

she sighed, but she didn't let go. for a while, you just stayed there—holding onto her, ignoring chat's growing curiosity, letting your heartbeat finally slow down. eventually, she whispered, "wanna sleep now?"

you exhaled. "yeah."

with a final squeeze, she pulled back and grabbed your hand, and you turned back to your stream, rubbing your eyes before clearing your throat.

"alright, chat," you muttered, voice still wobbly. "i'm ending stream. i need therapy."

the last thing chat saw before you disconnected was your teary eyes, ruffled hair, and hand out of frame, fingers curled like you were holding onto something—someone.

then, you were gone.

[moonmaiden1996]

If you're not a couple... How would Sanji react to you catching him masturbating and vice versa? 😏

Catching Sanji Masturbating 💛🔥

You weren’t expecting to walk in on him like this. Maybe you were looking for him in the kitchen, expecting to find him making a late-night snack, but instead, you find yourself standing frozen at the threshold of his dimly lit quarters.

And what you see?

Sanji sprawled out on his bed, half-undressed, shirt unbuttoned and barely hanging from his shoulders. Golden strands of his hair cling to his damp forehead, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers clutch desperately at the sheets beneath him, knuckles white from the strain, but it’s his other hand that really steals your attention.

He’s stroking himself—long, slow, deep strokes—hips bucking slightly, thighs trembling. And the worst (or best?) part?

"Nngh—ahhhh..."

He’s moaning your name.

A broken, needy sound that punches the air from your lungs.

The moment he realizes he’s not alone, everything stops. His entire body tenses, muscles locking up as his dazed, pleasure-clouded eyes flicker open. He meets your gaze, and the realization hits—his breath catches, face burning a deep shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like he’s scrambling for something—anything—to say.

"I-It’s not what it looks like!"

Oh, but it is.

Frantic, he tries to cover himself, grabbing the nearest object—which, unfortunately for him, is a thin pillow that does absolutely nothing to hide his straining, twitching arousal. His fingers tremble against the fabric, his chest still heaving as he struggles to regain any semblance of composure.

If you tease him? He might die on the spot. Stammering, apologizing, maybe even begging you to forget what you saw. But if you don’t leave—if you take even one slow, measured step closer—his breath hitches.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, muscles visibly tensing beneath his flushed, sweat-slicked skin. His hand twitches—like he wants to keep touching himself but doesn’t know if he can with you watching.

"D-Don’t just stand there looking at me like that…" his voice is barely more than a shaky whisper, hoarse and desperate. "You’re making it worse."

You own him now.

Because every time after this? Every single time he’s alone, needy and restless, his hand clamping around his aching cock his thoughts are going to go right back to this moment. To you standing there, watching him, teasing him, maybe even joining him.

Sanji was already down bad for you—this? This just sealed his fate, you are the one for him.

Sanji Catching You Masturbating—And Screaming His Name 🔥💛

You thought you were alone.

The ship was quiet, the night air cool, and everyone else had either retired or gone about their own business. It was safe. No one would walk in.

Or so you thought.

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers working over your heated skin, teasing yourself, chasing that sweet, blissful edge. Your breathy moans filled the room, growing louder, needier—until finally, the pleasure overwhelmed you, and the name on your lips spilled out in a sharp, helpless cry.

"S-Sanji—ahh—Sanji!"

And that was the moment the door slammed open.

"Merde—!"

A sharp, strangled inhale, followed by the thunk of something hitting the floor.

Your eyes fly open, panic spiking through your veins, and there he is—Sanji, standing in the doorway like he just walked into heaven and hell at the same time.

His breath is caught in his throat, his entire body locked up. His eyes, dark and wild, flicker from your flushed face to where your fingers are still buried between your thighs, glistening and trembling.

His cigarette slips from his lips. He doesn’t even notice.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then—

"Oh my god."

His voice is wrecked, deep, hoarse, and shaking as he grips the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. His face is redder than his damn suit, and his chest heaves like he just sprinted across the entire ship.

*"I—I didn’t—I mean, I heard—*mon dieu—I thought you were in danger—" his voice breaks slightly, physically trembling now. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the wood.

And then? His knees buckle.

He drops to the floor like his legs have completely given out.

His gaze is glued to you, pupils blown wide with a mixture of shock, arousal, and something darker. He’s still trying—trying to be a gentleman, trying to look away, to respect you, but his hands twitch against his thighs, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and—oh, he’s struggling.

"I—do you—" he swallows hard, voice dangerously low, "Do you need help?"

And if you nod? If you so much as whisper his name again?

He whimpers.

And if you order him to stay....To watch? To help?

Sanji—sweet, hopelessly lovesick, would be in heaven because he will die from the most powerful nose bleed to ever overtake him.

Eitherway Sanji is in trouble. He is screwed both literally and figuratively.

[00valentina-writes00]

Fucking Vi with a strap? I need it please

♡♥︎ Countertop Carnage ♥︎♡

Warnings: Vi getting absolutely ruined, pink strap (comedic but effective), counter abuse (RIP), standing ovation (Vi’s legs said no), overstimulation (oops), sweaty muscle flexing (mandatory), boot-soaking levels of mess

Vi is bent over the counter, hands gripping the edges so tight her knuckles turn white. She’s already breathless, already wrecked, chest rising and falling in uneven pants as she stares down at the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. Her arms flex with every twitch of her body, muscles shifting beneath sweat-slicked skin, her back arching as she braces for more.

And fuck, do you give her more.

Your strap is thick, big enough to make her whimper when you first pushed it inside, stretching her open inch by inch. Now it glides in and out of her, slick with her arousal, the obscene squelch of her cunt swallowing every inch echoing in the air between you. It’s bright pink—unmistakable, almost ridiculous against the raw, desperate way she takes it—but it stands out beautifully against her flushed, freckled skin. Every thrust shoves her up against the counter, her stomach pressed against the cool surface, her thighs trembling as she fights to keep herself upright.

“Fuck, fuck—” Vi groans, dropping her head forward, her pink hair falling in wild strands around her face. Her voice is hoarse, wrecked, like she’s been screaming your name for hours. Maybe she has.

You tighten your grip on her hips, fingers digging into the plush curve of her ass as you drive into her harder. “What happened, Vi?” you taunt, voice thick with amusement and lust. “All that attitude earlier, and now look at you. Can’t even hold yourself up.”

She growls, trying to throw you a glare over her shoulder, but it dissolves into a choked moan as you slam into her, the tip of your strap hitting that perfect spot inside her. Her whole body jerks, her legs threatening to give out, her nails scraping against the countertop.

“Oh, you like that?” You do it again, sharper this time, watching as she shudders beneath you. Her thighs are drenched, her slick dripping down, making a mess of the counter’s edge and the tops of her boots. “Such a fucking mess, Vi.”

“Shut—fuck, shut up,” she hisses, but there’s no real bite to it. She’s falling apart too fast, coming undone with every brutal snap of your hips.

You lean over her, pressing your chest to her sweaty back, and drag your teeth along the shell of her ear. “Make me.”

Vi tries—oh, she tries—but the only sound that escapes her is a ragged moan when you pull almost all the way out before slamming back inside. She jolts forward, her breath hitching, and you catch the way her fingers tremble against the counter, barely holding on.

“God—shit, I can’t—” Her voice cracks, her legs starting to shake as your pace grows ruthless.

You smirk, lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “Then don’t.”

And that’s all it takes.

Vi unravels with a strangled cry, her body seizing beneath you, her thighs clenching, her back arching so beautifully it nearly makes you dizzy. Her walls clamp down around the strap, pulsing as her orgasm crashes over her, soaking you, soaking everything. She trembles violently, gasping for air, her fingers clawing at the countertop as wave after wave of pleasure drags her under.

You don’t stop.

Not when she whimpers. Not when her legs give out and she starts sinking against the counter. Not when she pleads, voice cracking, overstimulated and wrecked beyond belief. You keep going, keep fucking her through it, your pace unrelenting, your grip unforgiving.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your voice is rough, almost as wrecked as hers. “Wanted to be fucked until you couldn’t think? Until you couldn’t stand?”

Vi nods weakly, unable to speak, her body limp against the counter.

You pull out slowly, watching as her hole clenches around nothing, twitching, desperate. Then you run your fingers along her swollen, dripping folds, teasing her, pressing against her entrance but not pushing in.

Vi twitches, whining, her hips shifting back in search of more.

“You’re not done yet,” you murmur, voice dark with promise.

And then you grab her waist, drag her back onto your strap, and fuck her all over again.

[crowsofdarkness]

A very smutty night with Bucky,

18+ CW's below the cut(unprotected pinv, spanking with a leather belt and Bucky's vibranium hand, handcuffing, orgasm denial, use of vibrator and dildo on the reader.)

"Bucky?" I called out when I finally stepped into our darker bedroom, only to be met with an ear ringing silence. 

The entire Avengers Compound was quiet, no one in any of the common rooms. I’d been out with Wanda and Nat, a girls night, and had been sending Bucky teasing texts all night to rile him up. How did he respond? 

By sending me a video of him jerking himself off into a pair of my panties. 

My hand smacked against the wall, looking for the light switch, but I let out a scream when a hand wrapped around my throat from behind, cool leather pressing against the heated skin as a deep voice spoke.

"You're late."

Goosebumps pricked at my skin as I found myself leaning into the broad chest against my back.

“I would have been here earlier if someone didn’t distract me with a certain video,” I tossed back at the voice over my shoulder. 

He breathed me in then let go of his grip around my throat, pushing me forward slightly and I tried to maneuver my way through the dark until suddenly, the bedside table lamp clicked on, a warm ashen glow showcasing the man that stood on the other side of the bed, it creating a barrier between us. Bucky was blanketed in his own darkness as he slowly removed the hood of his sweater, his long strands of hair falling just before his shoulders.

Now, he pointed to my dress. “Keep that on and get on your stomach on the bed.” 

My pussy clenched, slick with arousal ever since I watched the video; more than once. Not wanting to disobey him, I laid on my stomach on the soft bed which dipped behind me as Bucky knelt. 

“So pretty,” he mused while lifting up the hem of my dress over my ass. 

“Bucky,” I whined. 

A swift smack to my ass seized whatever words I was about to utter. 

Fuck, every time he spanked me with his vibranium hand it sent a shockwave through my system.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, doll. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you while you receive your punishment, understood?” Bucky’s eyes zoned in on my round ass in front of him. 

All I could pay attention to was the way his eyes watched me which didn’t please him so he laid another hard smack to my ass, causing me to cry out into the palm of my hand. 

“Hm, good girl,” he praised. 

The darkness that laced his voice suddenly was no longer as he leaned his body over towards my ear. “If it gets to be too much, Y/N, say Mercy. Alright?”

I couldn’t hide my eagerness as I nodded. “Keep going.” 

The only sound that lingered in the air of our bedroom was the sound of skin on skin as Bucky laid smack after smack against my ass; so red already. When he felt like I had enough, he rolled me onto my back so I could gaze up at him. 

“How wet are you, Doll?” He wondered, dragging a finger over my panties. “I can feel how soaked your panties are. Was it the video or the spankings?”

I swallowed. “Both.” 

Hooking a finger through the waistband, he ripped them down my legs before bunching the material of my dresses over my stomach. His large hands held onto my knees with a bruising force, spreading me wide for him. 

“I fucking knew it,” he said while dipping a finger between my folds, my moan getting caught in my throat. 

Bucky was knuckle deep as he fingered me hard and fast.

"Oh god," I buried my face into the crook of my arm, my orgasm already so close to the brink of collapse. 

“Fuck. Feels so good, Bucky," I gasped when he slipped another finger inside of me.

He curled them inside of me, bringing me closer to the edge of bliss. It felt like all of my senses were heightened yet before I could finally drown in it, Bucky slipped away from me leaving me empty. Before I could protest, his mouth devoured mine in a kiss so dizzying, I grasped at his sweater to keep myself grounded. 

“I got a surprise for you, doll,” he muttered into the kiss before rolling off of me, disappearing to the side of the bed and tossed a bag full of goodies next to me. 

Holy shit.

“Bucky,” I panted, body wrecked from yet another orgasm denial. “I can-I can’t do this anymore.” 

The metal handcuffs dug into my wrists as my arms were pulled tight behind my back, exposing my breasts to Bucky, who was lying underneath me with a smug smile on his face. After fucking me deep into the bed while I still wore my dress, he managed to pull out of me seconds before either of us came apart. 

“What’s the matter, doll? Tapping out already?” Bucky cocked his head to the side, assessing me with a predatory gaze. 

“P-please. I feel like my body is about to explode. I just want to cum, this isn't fair,” I whined which made him press the vibrator harder against my clit and I cried out. 

Bucky had it on the highest setting and everytime I felt like I was about to convulse on the dildo that was fully settled inside of me, he would yank the vibrator away. 

He leant up his face towards me so I could feel his warmth breath across my lips. “What’s not fair is you sending those texts and pictures to me all night knowing I can't do anything about it.” 

My lips parted to apologize, even though we both knew I didn’t need to. It was all part of this game. But Bucky was quick to lift me from the bed and roughly force me to my knees, a playful gleam in my eyes. In my naughty texts from earlier, I may have let it slip that I wanted him to be rough tonight. 

Bucky towered over me from my spot on the floor of our bedroom and his cock was so close to my face, I nearly darted my tongue out to lick up the precum that seeped out of the slit. 

Shortly after he fucked me in my dress, he tore away both of our clothes, before handcuffing my wrists together. While Bucky had been denying both of us orgasms all night, he also denied me touching him. Any time I tried, he would whip me with the leather belt that was currently hanging over the headboard. My ass was raw with marks covering every inch of skin, and I fucking loved it. 

Bucky’s calloused but gentle flesh hand cupped my cheek, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“Safe word?” He whispered into the darkness of the bedroom, only illuminated by the lamp on the bedside table

I pressed a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I’m good, Bucky.” 

Suddenly darkness bled those eyes black and he leaned closer to my face with a tight grip around his thick cock. 

“Good because you’re going to sit there like the good slut I know you to be and open that pretty little mouth of yours so I can paint it with my cum.”

His voice was gone, overcum with the lust that consumed all of him, and it nearly vibrated against his broad chest. 

“If you disobey, well I think we know what’s going to happen,” Bucky thread the belt between his hand to snap the leather together, the noise echoing throughout the room. 

I jumped but nodded eagerly. “I’ll be a good girl. I’ll listen.” 

His thumb now grazed over my cheek. “Then open up for me, doll.” 

I obeyed. 

“Fuck,” Bucky bit down on the back of my shoulder, digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass. His cock twitched inside of me as he held onto his breath. 

“Doll, I can’t-I can’t hold it. I’m so close-.” Bucky admitted through gritted teeth. 

With my face still pressed deep into the mattress by his vibranium hand, I pressed my ass farther back into him. My body was completely wrecked from the last three orgasms he forced out of me with the black rose vibrator, and I was desperate to finally hear him let go after denying himself all night. 

“Please Bucky,” I managed to say. “Please, I need it. I need you to fill me up.”  

“Fucking hell, doll,” he dragged nearly all of his cock out of my pussy, slowly fucking me with the head before sinking himself all the way in again. 

I glanced over my shoulder at him and watched with euphoria as Bucky’s eyes rolled back when he let his head fall, nearly choking on a breath. With a groan so sinful it made my spine ignite and two more hard snaps of his hips, he finally spilled himself inside of me. 

“Take all of it,” Bucky demanded before collapsing his large frame over mine on the bed, cock still buried deep inside of me. 

We lay there in a mess of sweat, cum, and tangled limbs when Bucky finally pushed himself off of me, the emptiness I felt between my legs paling in comparison to the cum dripping down the inside of my thigh. 

He pressed a delicate kiss to my shoulder as he lay next to me. “You sure you’re alright?” 

I gave him a blissful smile, still not being able to open my eyes. “I’m more than alright.” 

“Good,” Bucky swept away the matted hair from my face just as I slowly opened my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky,” I lazily kissed his chest before letting sleep finally pull me under. 

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost.  After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life.  His newfound PTSD is severe.  His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give.  His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with.  He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

Next chapter

Bucky woke up screaming again, but his nightmare had morphed into reality.  He thrashed in the bindings holding him, fighting against the body that was pinning him down.

“It’s me!  Buck…it’s me!” a voice yelled in his ear.

Bucky froze, his mind trying to catch up.  It wasn’t bindings twisted around his sweaty body, they were sheets.  On the bed he was sleeping on.  At home.  Home.  He looked at the person holding him and blinked, his widened eyes adjusting to the darkness.  It was Steve, his best friend, who was staying at his parents house to help him…help him.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath and his head fell back on the pillow as his body slowly relaxed from fight or flight mode.  He could hear his mother, Winnie, behind Steve somewhere, crying quietly as her husband and Bucky’s father, George, held her, whispering reassuring words to her as they watched him struggle.  Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder as he adjusted the tightened sheets and blankets around him.  “Thanks, punk,” Bucky said, but it came out as more of a grunt from how hoarse his voice sounded from screaming in his sleep.  He’d been home for a little over a year now, but the nightmares never ceased.  Sometimes they weren’t as vivid, his mind giving him a chance to get at least some rest, but other nights like tonight they were relentless, spitting one bad memory at him after another, the pain feeling real, the people looking real like they were right in front of him again, the heat, the sun, the stuffy, tiny room, sand itching in every crevice, the screams…

Bucky shook his head, trying to shake away the nightmare.  His hands ran through his sweaty, matted hair as he tried to keep his eyes open, afraid of what he’d see when they closed.  “I’m sorry everybody,” he said louder.  “I’ll be fine.  Go back to sleep.”

George let go of Winnie and stepped up to Bucky’s bed as Steve helped right the blankets around him.  “Buck, we really think you should reconsider the recovery home.”  Bucky shook his head immediately but George reached out and gripped his face, making Bucky look at him.  Bucky was surprised to see real tears in his father’s eyes.  George rarely cried, and to see his face so torn and helpless broke a piece of Bucky’s heart.  “Bucky, please,” George said, his lips trembling.  “Whether you like it or not, you need help that we aren’t able to give.  And I desperately want to give you that help, but I don’t know how.  Your mother and I have enough to cover the cost.  Just please…” George’s tears spilled over and he sniffed hurriedly.  “We can’t lose you.  Please.”

Bucky’s own tears started to well up in his eyes.  He knew George was right.  He needed help.  He didn’t like admitting it, he didn’t want to look weak.  He wanted to be strong for those he’d lost along the way, who didn’t make it out of being a prisoner of war like he did.  But he was so tired.  He could feel his mind cracking like it did when he was captured, and it scared him.  He slowly nodded at George as he closed his eyes and his tears finally fell.  

***

“So what’s he currently taking?” Y/N asked as she took detailed notes.

“Venlafaxine, or Effexor,” Winnie stated, looking at her own notes.  “At night sometimes he’ll take an Ambien to help him sleep, but it mixes with the Effexor badly and makes him drowsy or dizzy the next day, or gives him pretty severe headaches, so he tries not to.  But he just…” Winnie trailed off, her voice wobbling with emotion.  “He barely sleeps.  He wakes up screaming almost every night.  We don’t know what to do–”

“And how could you?” Y/N said quietly, reaching her hand out and taking Winnie’s hand.  “No one could ever prepare for something like this.  But you’re doing the right thing in asking for help.  I’m glad he’s finally come around to the idea of coming here,” she smiled kindly.

“So am I,” Winnie smiled back, wiping away the fallen tears.  “When does he start?”

***

Bucky, his parents, Steve and their other close friend Sam all pulled up to the recovery home a week later.  Bucky looked at it in awe.  It didn’t look like a sterile facility or treatment center.  It was a literal house.  An old Victorian house that had been renovated, with a surround porch, a large front yard that was well manicured and flower bushes along the edges.  In the front drive area was an old 1950s, two-toned turquoise blue and white Chevy truck that was in immaculate condition.  Near the road at the corner of the lot was a sign that read “Mama’s House: Recovery and Rehabilitation.”  

“Nice place,” Sam commented as he took out Bucky’s bag from his parent’s trunk.  “Looks like it belongs on the front of a postcard.”

“I like the name,” Steve said as he took in the house.  “Very homey.”

Bucky nodded along with their comments.  They all headed up the porch and toward the front door.  George rang the doorbell and gave the door a few knocks.  There was a chorus of barks and raised voices as the doorbell rang and Bucky’s brow furrowed.  

The door opened to a man in a military green t-shirt and jeans, holding a large, silver-colored cane corso dog back by the collar.  “Teddy, you fucker.  Hi!” the man said, waving at everyone.  “Sorry!  He’s the home dog, didn’t quite graduate from service dog training.  Which one of you is the newbie?”  Bucky stepped forward, raising his hand slightly and giving the man a tight lipped smile.  “Good to meet you,” the man held his hand out and Bucky hesitantly shook it.  “I’m Scott Lang.  Staff Sergeant in the Air Force.  This is Teddy,” he gestured to the huge dog.  Bucky held out a hand to Teddy and let him sniff him, which only made Teddy more excited as he pulled Scott closer and started licking Bucky’s hand.  “Oh, you must be a good one, otherwise Teddy would have bitten you,” Scott laughed then turned and greeted everyone else.  “The boss is out back.  Come on!”

They all followed Scott through the house, looking around quickly at the old character of the home mixed with modern furnishings and amenities.  As they came through the large kitchen to the back door Bucky was greeted with more people outside in a huge backyard.  They were all doing different things.  Gardening in one corner of the lot, some others playing basketball in another corner, two people sunbathing in a pergola covered fire pit area in the middle of the yard, and near the back he could see a few more buildings that were built beyond the main property with some more people coming in and out of them.

“Y/N!” Scott called out.  He let go of Teddy who bounded out into the yard, quickly going up to every person and greeting them with a quick lick and tail wag before he ran up to a woman in the gardening area.  She had looked up when Scott called and smiled brightly at him and the newcomers.  She stood and dusted off her knees and gardening gloves, taking them off before petting Teddy and letting him lick her face.

“Thanks Scott!  Hey Winnie!” she called back and waved.

Bucky gave his mother an amused look.  “What?  Someone had to come and check this place out,” Winnie teased him as she smiled and waved back to Y/N.

As Y/N approached he looked her over.  She was pretty, short, and curvy, the overalls she was wearing snug around her hips and stomach and her sports bra leaving little to the imagination.  Her hair was tied up and as she removed her sunglasses Bucky’s eyes slightly widened.  Beautiful, he thought.  Her bright smile stayed as she greeted Winnie first with a hug.  “I’m sorry I’m not more presentable, I lost track of the time,” she laughed and patted off some more dirt.  “Good to see you again,” she said sincerely.  “And you,” she turned to Bucky, giving him a once over, “must be Bucky.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded, giving her a polite, small smile.  She walked up to him with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Can I shake your hand?” she asked, looking up at him.  Bucky blinked before nodding and holding his hand out to her.  She carefully took it and shook his hand firmly.  “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” she said, her voice sounding gentle.  “Welcome to Mama’s House.”  She then released his hand and turned to the others.  “And who are these strapping young men?”

Sam preened at the attention, Steve laughing and George scoffing.  “Sam Wilson, friend of the family,” Sam said, walking forward with a flirtatious smile and shaking Y/N’s hand.  Y/N giggled and then turned to Steve.

“Steve Rogers, also a friend of the family,” Steve said, shaking her hand and smiling.

“George Barnes, father,” George said while shaking her hand.  “Though I don’t know how young or strapping I am.”

Y/N then fully laughed, and Bucky couldn’t seem to stop the full smile that spread on his face.  Her laugh was contagious, loud, and boisterous, ringing through the air like its own melody.  She covered her mouth to quiet herself as she turned to them all.  “Well, it’s wonderful to meet all of you.  Would you like a tour?”

“Yes!” Sam said, looking eagerly at the house and the yard.

Y/N smiled then walked ahead of them all to the house.  Bucky did a double take when he saw her back turned to them.  Beneath the overalls and the sports bra were multiple long, deep scars across her back, running from the tops of her shoulders to where he couldn’t see anymore.  The skin was stretched on the edges and pink in the middle of each scar.  He looked toward Steve and Sam next to him who were also staring.  They exchanged glances of concern before quickly falling instep.

Y/N showed them each room and had Bucky drop his bag in what would be his room.  He was grateful that he wouldn’t have to share with anyone.  The house was beautiful, well decorated and stocked with everything that anyone could need while staying there.  It was like her own little bed and breakfast that she took immense pride in, and it showed as they walked through the house.  It was well lived in, but clean and tidy.

She took them outside and showed them around the yard, then to the back buildings just off the main lot.  “These are our activity and rehab buildings,” she said, walking up to the first one.  “This is the rage room.”  Y/N opened the door and showed them a large room filled with broken old TVs, stereos, speakers, kitchen appliances, and overall junk.  In a smaller, glass walled off room were bats, hammers, and axes hung on the wall off to the side behind a thick pane of glass.  “We always have someone supervising when someone wants to use the rage room.  No one has access to the weapons without the supervisor key.  I would like to think the point of this room is pretty obvious,” she smirked as she closed the door.

“There’s a scream room inside the therapy building,” she said as they moved to the next building.  It looked more professional, with small walled off rooms as offices.  “This is where most of everyone’s therapy sessions will take place.  Of course that’s changeable if you so choose and your therapist is up for it.  We’ve had people just take walks around the property or stay in their rooms.  Whatever works for you.”

Y/N then went to the next building.  “This is the greenhouse.  We have the open garden in the yard and then this for more delicate things to grow.  We use this for therapy as well.”

“This next building is for physical therapy,” she said as they moved on.  Inside was what looked like a small gym, all kinds of equipment littered along the floor and a space off in the back that had lockers and another enclosed area that had bathrooms and showers.  “It’s also a gym, not just for those who need regular physical therapy.  Exercise can be great therapy.”

“And lastly, this is the comfy building,” Y/N said, her smile brightening again.  It was obvious this was her favorite space.  As they stepped in Bucky felt a sense of calm overcome him.  The space was cozy, with every surface covered in pillows and blankets and stuffed animals.  In one corner of the room was a caged off area.  “That’s where we have our monthly pet playdates,” Y/N pointed to that corner.  “The local animal shelter brings in some dogs or cats and we play with them.  We also help sponsor a yearly adoption drive.  And over there,” she pointed to a walled off area, “is the cuddle room.”  She led them over to it and opened the door.  Inside was a king sized bed and a couch off to the side, with a small table and a mushroom lamp.  “I’m a certified cuddler, which sounds ridiculous, I know,” she said as Sam snickered in the corner, Steve slapping his arm, “but it’s extremely important for those who are learning to get comfortable being touched again.  This kind of thing was very helpful for me during my rehabilitation, so I’ve made a space for it here.”  Bucky gave her a short glance.  She had gone through rehabilitation?  For what?  He quickly looked back at the bed and the couch.  “The room is soundproof, so if anyone ever just needs to have a good cry, it’s a great spot for it.  Anyways,” she led them all back out to the main area.  “Any questions so far?”

“You taking any new cuddling clients?”  Sam asked cheekily.  He dodged Steve’s arm.

“Not at this time, unfortunately,” Y/N laughed.  “Unless you’re a retired, struggling veteran?”  Sam’s smile slipped from his face and his lips pursed as Steve eyed him wryly.  Y/N huffed a laugh and then turned to Bucky and his parents.  “We also do group therapy if anyone feels more comfortable with that, as well as group outings in the community.  In a few weeks we’ll be going out for drinks and karaoke at the bar nearby.  So, if you’d like we can go back to the house and get you settled in, and then we’ll discuss the rules and all that not-so-fun stuff.”

Bucky nodded and they all went back to the house.  Y/N chatted with them as Bucky got moved in, getting his things set up slowly and methodically.  When he was done they all moved downstairs to her personal office.  Y/N sat at the chair at the desk while they all sat opposite her on chairs and a couch further back.  “Okay, so, the not-so-fun stuff,” Y/N said, pulling out a file that had Bucky’s name on it.  “Winnie already set up the payment and insurance information, and your prescription has been moved to a pharmacy here.  I’ve been in contact with the VA, but of course it’s the VA, so who knows when that will be helpful,” she rolled her eyes.  “Bucky,” she watched him carefully.  “The house rules are breakfast will be served at 8:30 a.m., lunch at 1:00 p.m., and dinner at 6:00 p.m.  If you don’t want to eat with us, you don’t have to. You’re an adult, so I’m not going to tell you when to go to bed, but I do lock up the house between 11 p.m. and midnight, so if you don’t have your key, the porch swing has a long pillow on it, but you're out of luck til the morning.  If you have plans and will be out overnight, please let me know.  Capiche?”  Bucky nodded.  “Everyone is assigned certain chores around the house and scheduled times for each of the buildings out back.  You are welcome to either use them during your time slots or not, the only one you’re not allowed to miss is your sessions with your therapist.  If you feel like you need more time in one versus another, we can figure out a time that won’t interfere with other people's times.”  Bucky nodded again.  “Each person living here right now is here because they need help.  Every single one of them is dealing with some form of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and some of them need physical therapy, too.  Common courtesy like not going into other people’s rooms, being aware of other’s space and things, and general kindness and civility are expected and enforced.  If we all can’t get along while we’re healing, then more serious measures will be taken.  And lastly,” she glanced at his parents and his friends, “you are free to leave whenever you want.”

“But–” Winnie started, looking worried.

“This is not a prison, and I am not your warden,” Y/N interrupted her.  “You need to be here because you want to be here and get better.  Not because your parents want it or expect it, or your friends, significant others, a job, the military, whatever else.  Only you,” she said it seriously, her previous softness leaving her face.  Bucky frowned but he nodded solemnly.  “However, if after a period of time it seems no progress or steps forward have been taken, then I can ask you to leave if I feel we are not the right fit for you here.  Sound good?”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky said again.  

“And none of this ‘ma’am’ stuff,” Y/N waved off his words.  “Just Y/N is fine.”

Bucky smirked.  “Yes, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled widely at him.  “Well,” she looked at her phone.  “It’s time for me to start getting dinner ready.  You can say goodbye to your family and friends and then we’ll go from there.”  She stood from the desk and everyone followed her.  She led them back out to the front porch and Bucky turned to his family at the bottom of the steps.

Sam stepped forward and hugged him, giving him a hard pat on the back.  “You can do this, man,” Sam said, nodding at him with a confident smile.  “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, looking away.

Steve stepped up next and gave Bucky a longer hug.  They had been friends since childhood, and if anyone knew how much Bucky was struggling, it was Steve.  Steve squeezed him harder before pulling away and holding his arms.  “I’m here for you, no matter what you need, k?”  Bucky nodded with a small smile.  “Till the end of the line,” Steve said, holding out a hand.

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky answered, clapping his hand into Steve’s as they hugged each other one more time.

Winnie was beside herself as she stepped up and held Bucky.  “I’m so proud of you for doing this, James.  We love you so much,” she cried.

“Love you, too, Ma,” Bucky said, hugging her tight before turning to his dad.

George was fighting back tears, but stepped up and held Bucky’s face like he did that night a few weeks before.  He stared at him for a moment before pulling him into a hug.  “My boy,” George sniffled.  “My beautiful boy.  I’m proud of you.  For all you’ve done, and all you will do.”  Bucky felt his eyes fill with tears.  He and his dad had always shared a special bond.  Being away from him was going to be hard.  “I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered.  They pulled apart and George held Bucky’s face one last time before turning away and walking with the others to the car.  They all waved goodbye before driving away, Bucky raising a hand before they disappeared.  He breathed deeply, quickly wiping away the wetness in his eyes before turning to face Y/N.  She was still at the top step, and gave him a warm smile.

“You alright?” Y/N asked.  

Bucky nodded as he walked back up the stairs.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said simply.  “Would you feel up to meeting everybody or would you like to rest?”

“I can meet everyone,” Bucky said.  He wasn’t feeling social, but he could at least get all the weird greetings out of the way.

“Awesome,” she brightened again and turned back to the house.

Bucky met all the other veterans in the home.  Scott, who he’d met before, was the class clown, always trying to get everyone to smile.  Wanda was quiet, kept to herself, but kind.  Her brother Pietro was there as well, and the complete opposite of her.  He was loud, vivacious, and extremely flirty.  Bucky had to hold back a laugh when Y/N very quickly and subtly put him in his place.  Bruce was the oldest out of everyone, and even quieter than Wanda, but he and Y/N seemed to have a special bond between them, almost like he was a father figure to her.  And lastly there was Clint.  He was jittery, animated, and couldn’t seem to stop moving.  He wore hearing aids, and at times would just give up speaking and start signing to Y/N, who was able to sign back to him.  

“We’re all a little mad here,” Clint had said, giving Bucky an exaggerated wink.  “That’s an Alice in Wonderland reference.  Have you seen it?  The newer one?  I thought it was good.  Some people didn’t think so but I liked it.  So what are you here for?”

“Clint!” Y/N whisper-yelled at him, her wide eyes staring at him incredulously.

“What?  We’re all fucked up. I’m just wondering why he’s fucked up,” Clint said like it was the most simple thing in the world.  

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “It’s okay.  I’m, uh, dealing with PTSD and nightmares and uh…a few other things,” he answered, trying to be open with these new people he was going to be living with.

“Huh, yeah me too,” Clint said, wide-eyed as his head nodded frantically.  “PTSD, depression, suicidal ideation, manic episodes, memory loss, lost my hearing,” he pointed to his ears, “but I gotta get better for my kids, ya know?  I’ve got 3.  Do you have kids?  A wife?  Or maybe a husband?  Sorry I don’t mean to assume.  I’m straight, but there’s nothing wrong if you’re not.  Whatever floats your boat, ya know?”

Bucky smiled wider, enjoying Clint’s run-on thoughts.  “No kids.  No wife.  No husband.  Not really looking for anything like that right now,” he said.  

Clint talked his ear off until Y/N called everyone in for dinner.  As they all sat and ate, Bucky got used to the noise, the voices talking over each other, the different conversations going on, passing plates and dishes over and over.  It was nice compared to how quiet his parents were, like they were walking on eggshells around him.  After dinner they all started to disperse and Bucky went back up to his room.  He finished unpacking the last few small things he had left and then sat on his bed, looking around the room.  He had a view of the backyard and could see Teddy playing fetch with Y/N outside.  He watched them for a minute, smiling at Teddy standing on his hind legs and being at eye level with Y/N, if not a smidge taller than her, as he licked her face.  He could faintly hear her protesting as she shoved him off and threw the ball again, making him streak across the yard again.  

Soon after she headed inside with Teddy and Bucky decided he was ready for bed.  It had been a long day of driving, unpacking, and being friendly, and he felt exhausted.  Just after he was dressed in his pajamas and brushed his teeth he heard a knock on his door.  He opened it to see Y/N standing there in her pajamas and Teddy sitting next to her but wagging his tail excitedly at seeing Bucky.

“Hey Bucky, mind if I come in for a minute?” Y/N asked.  

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky agreed and stepped aside.  She walked in and headed for the chair in the corner while Teddy sniffed and licked Bucky’s hands and followed him to his bed.  Bucky scratched his ears as he sat on the bed again, smiling as Teddy settled his head on Bucky’s knee.

“I’m sorry to interrupt as you're getting ready for bed.  But I figured we should go over your schedule,” she said.

“Right, sounds good,” Bucky agreed.  As she pulled out a paper and unfolded it she read over his schedule, making notes on her phone of things that needed changing.  “And lastly your comfy room times will be on Friday nights from 8 p.m. to 9 p.m.  I know it’s kinda late, and at the beginning of the weekend, so if we need to move it we can figure something out if you have plans.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that,” Bucky said, his voice coming out harsh.

Y/N blinked at him.  “Why not?”

“I just don’t,” Bucky said firmly, not looking at her.

Teddy’s head picked up at Bucky’s change in demeanor and bumped Bucky’s chin with his nose, a short whine coming from his throat.  Y/N leaned forward in the chair, setting the paper aside.  “Your mom alluded to the fact that you may have had something happen that you aren’t willing to talk about.  I understand–”

“No, you don’t,” Bucky said, glaring at her.  

Y/N didn’t seem angry or taken aback by his outburst.  She merely sighed as she watched him.  “I do, Buck.  More than you could imagine.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing at her as they stared at each other.  He had given the full report of what had happened to him to the doctor and commanding officer when he was rescued, because that’s what he was supposed to do, but no one else.  He had a suspicion that his parents had some idea of what may have happened, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it with anyone, at least not now.  But the look in Y/N’s eyes made him pause.

“Just meet with me once, and then if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Y/N said imploringly.  

She had a knowing look in her eye that made him curious, so after a moment he nodded.  “Fine.  Just once.”

“Just once,” Y/N agreed, a small smile on her face.  She grabbed his schedule, stood and walked over to him, leaning down to scratch Teddy’s head before turning to the door.  “I’m just down the hall, so if you need anything let me know.  If those nightmares come back, me and Teddy will come running.”

Bucky patted Teddy one more time before Teddy scurried off with Y/N.  She gave Bucky one last smile before closing his door.  Bucky wondered at what she had said.  How could she know what he’d been through?  He’d been trained for torture, and yet nothing in the world could have prepared him for what he’d gone through.  He shook his head and laid down, trying to calm himself before sleep took him.  He really hoped it wouldn’t be too bad tonight.

[moody-alcoholic]

Sub Ala Angeli

part 1 - The fall

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic. Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: Mutilation, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, suicidal ideation.

AN: I hate to be a tease but I will be finishing cross my heart before I commit to this full time.

enjoy <3

You don’t remember the fall.

You don’t remember much after the excruciating pain of your wing being torn. The scream that left your throat felt strange. You’d never experienced pain before, you never experienced the stench of blood. They made sure you felt pain. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside you, there were all these new emotions: Sadness, pain, fear. 

Fear was the worst, the thump of your heart racing in your chest, the tears clouding your vision as you listened to your fate being decided. 

Exile. 

It had been decades since an angel had been exiled to Earth, most are sent below to the depths of hell to live among the demons they became traitors to. Your crime was different, your crime was forgivable. All it would cost you was a wing and to live among the humans you were sworn to protect.

Live a righteous life and the gates of heaven would open again. 

One wing is left as a reminder, the other is taken to stop you coming back until they say you can.

You don’t know where you are, you're laid on your stomach, the ground is wet, you’re in a forest. It’s cold, you're naked, your body exposed to the elements. You can feel the wound on your back throbbing, blood trickling down your side. You let out a sob turning to your side and pulling your knees up to your chest. 

You can’t even use your other wing to cover yourself. It hurts too much. It doesn’t matter anyway you’re already soaked. You watch as beams of sunlight break through the trees. The sound of the rain hitting the ground around you is strangely comforting. 

Maybe you’ll just lay here and die. Die of exposure or whatever new conditions you’re vulnerable to. At least when you die there'll be no more pain. 

Hopefully.

…

The snap of a branch jolts you awake. It’s dark now, your body shivers, goosebumps have risen on your skin. Your lip starts to quiver, your fingers and feet hurt to move.

“I’m sure it was this way.” You hear a voice, a sob escapes your throat. If people find you they might hurt you. 

“Johnny this is a waste of time, there’s nothing here. We’ve been looking for hours.” Another voice says. You use all your energy to push your hands into the soft ground trying to force your body up. A groan leaves your throat, everything hurts.

“What was that?”

“Probably a fox or something. We should get back, it’s already dark.” 

Your back throbs, each movement sends a stabbing pain through you. You can’t hold yourself up, you have no energy, you’re too injured. 

Maybe these strangers are your only hope, or maybe they’ll give you a quick death. Your body slams back on the ground and you let out a yelp, tears fill your eyes again. 

“Over here!” One of them calls. You see lights breaking through the trees ahead of you. It’s not like the warm glow of the sunlight though. It’s bright and white, harsh causing you to close your eyes. Your mind flicks back to the courtroom, high walls or pure white and gold. 

You let out another sob as the sound of footsteps gets louder. You can’t defend yourself, if they hurt you there’s nothing you can do. You turn back on your side propping yourself up on your elbow. You bring your hand up to block the light, squinting your eyes. 

“Holy shit.” They stop a few meters ahead of you, you slowly lower your arm. One of them steps toward you and you flinch before you can stop yourself. It makes your body throb with pain and you cry out, your hand flys up to grip your shoulder. 

“Okay, okay.” He says backing up. You can’t get a proper look at him, your head is swimming now, your body starts to shake. You let your hand fall as your breathing picks up, a new feeling washes over you. Panic. Maybe you were wrong to trust these people. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says, his arms outstretched palms open, he’s given his torch to the man standing behind him. He unzips his coat, pulling it off and holding it out. “You must be freezing, we can take you somewhere warm.” He says taking a little step towards you. This time you don't flinch. 

He takes another slow step, like he’s trying to move without spooking you. The arm propping you up gives way, your body slams painfully against the wet floor. You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. Warm hands land on you, on your shoulder sending shivers up your spine. 

“Eazy lass, you’re okay.” He says, his voice is calm. Your head swims as he throws the coat over you. You hear the other man moving towards you. You turn your head and look up at the stranger now bent down by your face. He brushes a strand of hair out your eyes and smiles at you. 

You try to smile back, you try to get a good look at him but the light coming from behind him is too bright it stings your vision. Your head throbs as you reach out for him, it uses the last of your energy. You open your mouth to thank him but your body goes limp and everything goes black.

…

You don’t remember being bought here. 

You reach over for the water your hand is shaking as you pick it up and gulp it down. You’ve never been thirsty before, it’s a new feeling, everything is new. You go to stand up, your whole body feels unbalanced and you tip to the side crashing against the bedside table. You knock the glass over and it rolls on the floor smashing.

You wake in bed. You're still naked laid on your stomach. Som is bleeding through the curtains in the room. You look over and see a glass of water on the bedside table. Your body feels stiff, you push yourself up swinging your legs out the bed. Your back hurts, you grit your teeth reaching round to your back. You can feel bandages. 

If they wanted to kill you they would have done it already.

You back away, sumbling round to the end of the bed, your arms and wing stretching out as you try and balance yourself. The room to the door opens and you turn, it causes you to stumble and you fall backwards onto the floor. You let out a yelp as pain shoots through you. 

“Easy, you’re okay.” He says, you look up at him, wrapping your wing around yourself. It hurts pulling on all the muscles in your back, including the ones you won’t need to use anymore. Your breathing picks up, you look at him with wide eyes, trying to hide behind your wing as much as you can. He bends down so he’s on the same level as you. 

He's smiling at you, his head tipped slightly to the side. He has blue eyes and dark hair, he doesn’t look scary. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says as you pull your legs up to your chest. The other man appears in the doorway with his arms crossed. He looks bigger than the guy with the dark hair, his eyebrow creased as he looks at you. He has blonde hair, and big arms, you swallow hard your eyes flicking back to the other guy.

“I’m Johnny, this is Simon.” He says thumbing at the guy behind him. “Do you have a name?” You shake your head.

"What happened to you, were you attacked?” He asks. You shake your head. “We tried to patch you up the best we could. We weren’t quite sure what you needed.” You lower your wing so he can see your face better. His smile gets bigger, he reaches out his hand.

"We thought maybe you could use something to eat? Or a bath?” He says. You feel your stomach rumble, hunger, you’ve never been hungry before. Your hand rests on your stomach. You nod, dropping your wing and reaching out for his hand.

Banners by plum98

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Chew Toy - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: uhhhhhh *drops this and runs* YOU SAW NO ONE AND NOTHING 🫣

CW: Reader is called pup and good boy, smut, explicit sexual content, blood kink, pain kink, sadist!Reader, blood consumption, masochist!Logan, Reader’s parts are called hole, Reader’s arousal is called slick, biting kink, licking, kissing, Reader goes a little feral, Logan’s healing factor, mentioned aftercare, Reader has ears and claws

707 words

“That’s it, pup.” Logan’s voice is practically a groan. Deep and rumbly, melting smoothly somewhere in your chest. “Good boy.”

You sink your teeth in harder, shivering as you feel his skin split beneath your teeth. Spilling hot, coppery blood into your mouth.

You pull back, lick your lips. Then you press on the bite mark, watching with unbridled glee as trickles of blood seep down his bicep.

Logan just shudders, hips bucking up. Sliding his cock deeper into your dripping hole. You’re soaked; your slick making a complete mess of the sheets. You’ve been wet since the first bite mark. The first moment he let you sink your teeth into his skin.

You moan, clenching around him. He’s so big and so deep inside you. The pleasure distracting you from the lingering pain in your jaw. You need to bite. You need to chew.

You lunge for his bicep again, clamping down hard. Logan thrusts up into you again, a choked growl spilling from his lips. “Fuck! Just like that!”

You shift your jaw. Sinking your teeth in deeper and easing the pain. His hand finds your ear and gently grips the fur. You growl softly, easing off only to start chewing lower down his arm.

You don’t break the skin this time; using just the right amount of pressure. Logan strokes your ear, scratching softly. “That’s a good pup.”

His voice is husky with desire and you are not immune to it. You shiver, pulling back to lick at the indents in his skin. “You gonna fuck me yet?”

Logan’s eyes darken and that’s all the warning you get before he’s lifting you off him and tossing you back on the bed. Looming over you, teeth bared.

You bare your own in return, excitement skittering through you. He lines himself up, meeting your gaze. And then his hips snap forward, burying him inside you.

You gasp, half choking on a moan. You grab at his back, claws scraping down his skin. He snarls and sets up a brutal pace, making your head spin and your body scream with pleasure.

Vaguely you’re aware of snapping down on something. Of sinking your teeth into flesh. Of tasting blood on your tongue.

But it’s hard to focus when he’s fucking you like this. You can barely breathe; scrabbling and biting and ripping at his skin.

Your orgasm slams into you. Rocketing you into a haze of white hot pleasure with a cry of his name. Warmth floods your insides and your teeth lock onto meat.

You come to slowly. Your jaw aching, but it eases when you loosen your bite. Slumping back against the bed as you lick the blood from your lips.

Logan’s tongue smooths against your cheek, a kiss pressed to your lips. His arms slide around you, his body shifting to lay next to you. “There’s my pup.”

You snuggle into his chest, slowly opening your eyes. And then you bite back a grin.

His shoulder’s a mess. Bloody and raw and brutally mauled. His back’s likely a mess as well; if the way you’d been scratching had done anything.

You press a kiss to the open wound, relishing in the way he sucks in a breath. You watch as it slowly heals over, leaving behind nothing but fresh smooth unmarked skin behind.

Logan nips at your neck, nuzzling his nose against you. He breathes in your scent, a soft rumble leaving his chest. Then he pulls back, kissing you softly before sitting up. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

You groan, eyeing his bloodied shoulder and arm greedily. “But you look so sexy like this…”

He smirks but jerks his head, signaling for you to obey. You sigh and get up. Following him out of the room and to the bathroom. Giving you a wonderful eyeful of his bloodied back. You’d done more damage with your claws than you’d thought.

It makes you warm with pride. Knowing you’re the only one who’ll ever mark him up like this. Even if the mark’s never linger, the aftermath is always a sight to see.

And after you clean it all off? Then you’ll get to start all over with your wonderful chew toy of a boyfriend.

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Prologue || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Warnings: Body horror, experimentation, reader is in a lot of pain, violence, angst.

a/n: This is the rescue! A preview to the first chapter which should be out sometime next week <3 Short but I hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist

Hurts. Hurts so bad. 

Everything hurts. You can’t feel your hands, your legs. You can’t move. Strapped down with cold leather straps. You try to move but you can’t. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop. It’s loud. So loud. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind screams a million things at once. 

Where am I? Get out Get out Get out. I can't move. Help someone help. Who am I? GET OUT!

It takes everything inside of you to open your eyes. Every ounce of willpower is dedicated to what was once a simple task. A bright white light shines in your eyes. You wince as your eyes squint. Your vision is blurry as you try to look around.

As the room comes into focus, so does your hearing. The ringing in your ears quiets as the sounds of destruction and screams fill the void. An alarm is blaring loudly throughout wherever you are. You see steel tables, medical equipment, scans. Fuck where were you.

Why can't you remember anything? Your brain goes fuzzy as you try and recall anything from a few minutes ago. The last memory is pain. So much pain. You start to hear the screaming get closer. 

“Help…” Your voice is raspy as you try to call for anyone. Your throat burns as you speak. Footsteps get closer and closer.

“Please, Help me.” You cry a little louder.

Pain shoots through your body as you try to move your arms. You want to cry, but no tears come. You don’t understand. Suddenly you hear a loud bang. The steel doors bend under the pressure as the banging continues. You cry out in relief as the doors burst open. You see a strange man enter the room.

“Over here!” He calls, his voice sounds so far away. 

Snikt

In your hazy vision you see blades come out of the mans hand. Suddenly the leather straps were gone, cut away. Fear shoots through your heart at the sight of his claws.

No no no, he's going to hurt you. The people with knives, they hurt you.

"Please no don't." You whimper as he comes closer.

“Hey there kid I'm not gonna hurt you okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” He says.

You groan as he picks you up. You move your left hand, cupping his face. Trying to see who this was, what was going on. And then you move your right hand. Only something feels very wrong. The pain still echoes through your body but only on one side.

“Wait.” You mumble. Pushing yourself out of the man's grip.

He grunts as you push hard with your right hand, sending him stumbling back much to his surprise. You fall from his grasp. A loud clang echoes when you hit the ground. You hear more footsteps, more people, more talking.

“Oh my god.” You hear a voice say in a terrified whisper.

“Kid, you need help.” The man from before says, bending down to whisper in your ear.

You ignore him. Crawling towards a steel pan on the ground. Shakily you lift your right hand. To your horror there is no longer the familiar sight of a human hand.

It’s solid white. Plates of metal make up what was once your skin. Wires connect like veins. You close your fist and open it again. Your eyes trail up your arm. The whole thing is just like your hand. Shiny white metal instead of what was once your soft skin.

You grab the steel pan and hold it up to your face. The image is distorted but you can see yourself clear as day. Half your face is turned into something so, unhuman. Robotic and unnatural.

You lift your other hand, your human hand to your face. You flinch as you touch the cold metal of your cheek. A tear slips down one of your cheeks while your other eye just stares back, cold and empty. You drop the pan in horror. Your mind goes numb as you feel a hand on your shoulder. Someone speaks but you can’t hear them.

They wrap a blanket around you, and lead you outside. They speak to you slowly and carefully, like you’re a wounded animal. They stare at you like you’re a freak. A failed experiment that has stripped you of everything. You are a freak, you are an abomination of bones and metal.

You don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge a single thing as you stare at the floor. Slowly you lift your head, the man who cut you free sits across from you. Staring at you with hostile eyes. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the warped metal above him.

The blanket falls open, you get a look at your whole body. Half human, half machine. Expect your chest, where your ribs, your heart should be. Is a big gaping hole. Just tubes and wires and metal. 

What have they done to you? 

[sturniololuvz]

could you do the triplets sister going through something and she ends up getting drunk and just saying everything to the triplets and they comfort her (yes i’m dealing with trauma through fanfic)

yesss!

“A Drunken Heart-to-Heart”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : drunk , crying

The front door swung open with a loud thud as 17-year-old Y/N stumbled inside, her face flushed and her steps wobbly. She barely managed to kick her shoes off before tripping over the rug in the entryway.

“Whoa—what the—?” Nick was the first to look up from the couch, his eyes widening.

Chris and Matt turned their heads at the same time, immediately catching sight of their little sister, who was clearly not sober.

“Y/N?” Matt said, standing up. “Are you—are you drunk?”

Y/N giggled, hiccupped, then nodded dramatically. “Maaaaybeeee.”

Chris blinked. “Oh, this is weird.”

“Very weird,” Nick added, watching as Y/N practically melted onto the couch next to him.

“I love you guys soooo much,” she suddenly blurted, looking between them with glossy eyes.

“Okay, yeah, she’s definitely drunk,” Chris muttered, still in shock. Y/N was never this talkative.

“How much did you drink?” Matt asked, crossing his arms.

Y/N shrugged. “Like… a little. Or a lot. Who knows?”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, well, you need to sleep this off, so—”

But before he could finish, Y/N’s face twisted, and suddenly, her bottom lip trembled. “Guys…” Her voice cracked.

The room went silent.

“Uh… Y/N?” Chris asked cautiously.

And then—she broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” she sobbed.

Matt, Chris, and Nick all exchanged panicked glances.

“Oh—oh, no,” Matt mumbled.

“Is she crying?!” Chris whisper-shouted. “What do we do?!”

Nick, despite his usual sarcastic nature, was the first to move. He slid closer to Y/N, hesitating for only a second before pulling her into a hug. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Y/N sniffled, gripping onto his hoodie like it was her lifeline. “Everything,” she whispered. “I feel like—I feel like I’m drowning, and no one even notices. I try so hard to act fine, but I’m not fine, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

Matt immediately softened. “Y/N…”

Chris, now fully out of his confusion, sat on her other side. “Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling like this?” His voice was quieter than usual.

Y/N wiped at her face, still hiccupping. “Because—I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you guys.”

Nick’s grip on her tightened. “You’re never a bother, Y/N. You know that, right?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, dude, you could literally scream at me at 3 a.m. about anything, and I’d still listen.”

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re your brothers, Y/N. No matter what, we’re here for you.”

Y/N looked between them, her face still wet with tears, but something about their words made her breathing slow. She was drunk, exhausted, and emotionally drained—but for the first time in a while, she felt safe.

Nick squeezed her shoulder. “Now, how about we get you some water and let you sleep this off? And tomorrow, we’ll talk about this when you’re sober, yeah?”

Y/N nodded, sniffling. “Okay.”

Chris stood up. “I’ll get the water.”

Matt grabbed a blanket. “And I’ll make sure she doesn’t roll off the couch in her sleep.”

Nick chuckled. “And I’ll keep holding her so she doesn’t start crying again.”

Y/N let out a small laugh between her sniffles. “Thanks, guys.”

Matt smiled softly. “Always.”

[luvst4rc0r3]

You are really good in writing dark things. Can you write Jinx and Isha comforting reader after reader’s suicide attempt? Or just Jinx and Isha comforting reader after anything, if it’s too much.

This was interesting to make!!

"Stay with us"

Jinx x F!Reader

Isha x F!Reader (Platonic)

Warnings:SUICIDE ATTEMPT!!! PLEASE CLICK OFF IF YOU DO NOT LIKE

WC: 1209

Jinx was used to chaos. Explosions. The sharp crack of gunfire echoing in her ears. The adrenaline, the fire, the thrill of destruction—those were things she understood.

But this? This was different.

This was you, barely conscious, barely breathing, lying there like all the life had drained right out of you. And Jinx didn’t know how to fix it.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against your shoulders, shaking you—gently at first, then rougher when you didn’t respond. “No, no, no, no—hey, sweets, c’mon, wake up! Don’t—don’t do this, okay?”

Jinx barely processed it. All she saw was you—crumpled on the floor, breath too shallow, eyes barely open.

No. No, no, no, no.

"Shit—shit—shit—!" Jinx dropped her hands hovering over your body, unsure where to touch, where to hold, what to do. You looked so small, so fragile.

Her hands were shaking.

She knew what this was. Knew that kind of pain. The kind that made your own body feel like a cage you needed to break free from.

“Nope. Nope, not happening.” Her voice shook, but her hands were steady as she hauled you up, half-carrying, half-dragging you into her lap. “You’re not leavin’ us. You hear me? No fuckin’ way.”

Jinx swallowed hard.

She had seen a lot of things in her life. Too much, probably. She had lost too many people, watched them slip through her fingers like sand.

She wasn’t losing you too.

⊹────⊹ ꯭┄ׁ┄ ʚ͜♡͜ɞ ┄ׁ┄꯭   ⊹────⊹

It took hours before you finally woke up.

The room was dim, bathed in the neon glow that always spilled in from the city outside. The familiar scent of gunpowder and metal filled the air, but beneath it was something softer—something safeWarmth.

Your head throbbed, a slow, dull ache spreading through your skull, but more than that, there was… warmth. A weight pressed against you, grounding you, keeping you here.

It took a second to process.

Isha was curled up right beside you, pressed against your side, her arm draped loosely over your waist. Her hair tickled your skin, her breathing slow and steady.

While Jinx?

Jinx was curled up beside you, one arm draped over your stomach, gripping your shirt like if she lets go, you’ll slip away again. Her breathing is uneven, shaky, like she’s been crying in her sleep.

Your body feels heavy. Your chest tight, throat raw. It takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up, to remember.

The cold tile beneath you. The distant sound of Jinx’s voice, screaming your name. Hands shaking you, holding you, refusing to let go. Isha, frantic, her touch softer but no less desperate. The way she pressed her forehead against yours, as if that alone could keep you here.

You’re here.

But you don’t know why.

Her grip on you tightens first, like instinct, before her eyes snap open. It takes her a second to register that you’re awake, but when she does, her whole body tenses. Her breath catches, eyes darting over your face, searching.

“You’re awake,” she whispers, voice hoarse. She blinks, hard, then lets out a breathy, broken laugh. “Shit.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, your mouth too parched to form words. Jinx notices immediately.

“Hey, hey, easy there, sweets,” Jinx’s voice was softer than usual, none of the usual teasing lilt—just quiet concern. “You’re okay. Just breathe, alright?”

A cool hand brushed against your forehead, pushing back strands of hair that had stuck to your damp skin. You forced your eyes open just a little, vision swimming. Jinx’s face came into focus above you, her brows drawn together, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

her hands were shaking too much.

The cup rattled as she lifted it, her fingers gripping it too tight, knuckles white. She cursed under her breath, adjusting her grip three times before finally managing to steady herself.

You let out the faintest sound—a weak, hoarse whimper—and Jinx flinched.

Her breath hitched.

Her whole body jerked like she had just been shot.

She almost dropped the cup.

“Sweets,” she whispered, voice thin and strained. 

“Hey, c’mon. Need you to drink, ‘kay?”

Her grip on the cup tightened. She hated this. She hated this. She was supposed to be fast, quick, unpredictable—chaos, like the crackle of lightning. But now she just felt helpless.

Her hands twitched, jerking up and down, almost spilling the water. Too much, too much, her brain screamed.

She hesitated.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she dipped her fingers into the water, gathering just a few droplets.

Her hand was trembling as she brought them to your lips.

“Here. C’mon, sweets. Just a little.”

Your lips parted weakly, and she brushed the water against them, letting the droplets roll onto your tongue.

You swallowed. Barely.

Jinx let out a shuddering breath. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”

She did it again. And again. Hands twitching, breath uneven, mind racing, but she kept going.

Isha stayed close, watching her, watching you, making sure everything was okay.

Jinx chewed her lip, tapping her foot, blinking too fast like she couldn’t slow down even though her body wasn’t moving.

Jinx swallows, her grip on you tightening again before she finally speaks.

“You scared the hell outta me,” she says, and her voice is raw. “And her.” She nods toward Isha. “And I should—I should be so fucking mad at you right now. I should yell at you. Should scream, throw something, make you understand how—how fucking stupid that was—” Her voice cracks, and she stops, inhaling sharply like she’s trying to keep it together.

The words sit heavy between you.

Isha finally lets go of your hand, only to sign. Me too.

Her hands are slower than usual, like she’s too drained to move the way she normally would. But the meaning is clear.

You look away.

You don’t know what to say. What you can say.

Jinx exhales hard, rubbing a hand over her face before shaking her head. “You don’t have to say anything,” she mutters. “I just—I just need you to know.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, barely above a whisper.

Jinx lets out a choked laugh, one that sounds like it hurts. “Yeah, well. Just… don’t do it again, okay?” Her voice wobbles, but her grip stays firm. “I mean it. I can’t—I won’t lose you.”

Isha moves, signing something with slow, deliberate movements.

I love you.

Your breath catches.

Jinx watches you, something fragile flickering in her expression. Then, softer this time, she adds, “Yeah. We love you, dumbass.” There’s no bite to it, no teasing edge—just quiet, unfiltered sincerity.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to process the weight of it all.

Then you squeeze Isha’s hand. Then Jinx’s.

Neither of them let go.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you felt safe.

Not like a burden.

Not like a ghost waiting to fade.

Just safe.

Jinx pressed a small, fleeting kiss to your temple before adjusting the blankets around you.

“Alright, sweets,” she whispered, voice like silk, warm and steady, “get some rest. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

And you believed her.

for the first time in a long, long time…

You felt safe.

My dog is sleeping on me while I make this.

I want food

[ikalyyy]

───୨ৎEnough love ¹

When your wedding invitation reached Saebyeok's hands, she was forced to understand that you would never return, you had left her side forever. She had to take refuge in music and you in your perfect marriage.

Vocalist and guitarist of a band! Saebyeok x fem! reader

Warnings: Angst, forced marriage, much more angst, infidelity

Author's Note: Sorry, I just watched Nana again so my heart is broken.

You looked at his face, the freckles spread so prettily across his cheeks and nose, but Saebyeok's gaze was distorted, his eyes that despite being cold as ice, always looked at you with love, now you saw them broken and desperate.

"I can do it... I have enough love to love for both of us" you heard his voice, it sounded far away, his hands clung to your shoulders as he shook you lightly "You don't need to love me, just let me stay by your side" Saebyeok asked, his dark eyes filled with hot tears, the desperation in his voice made you break down.

"Saebyeok I..." you spoke, the lump in your throat barely allowing you to.

"Fuck no!" she screamed, shaking you hard "You don't call me that!" she pushed your body against a nearby wall "I-I'm Byeokkie, your Byeokkie..." his legs shook, his body fell on his knees, his face was against his abdomen.

"You hate that nickname" you murmured with a playful touch as your hands went to his dark locks.

"Please, I don't want to... I don't want to walk away" his tears wet your shirt "Don't leave me alone again, you're all I have..."

Your tears began to slide intensely, you had never felt so many tears fall from your eyes, your hands went to Saebyeok's shoulders; you didn't want to push her away, each of her words was a knife in your heart. You had promised yourself to heal all her wounds, to fix her heart piece by piece, but here you were, being the cause of Saebyeok crying like there was no tomorrow.

"Forgive me..." you whispered in pain, you pushed her body as much as you could, once free from her grip you began to walk out of the apartment you both shared, the suitcase was the only noise in the room. Saebyeok's intense crying had caused tears to come out of her eyes, but not a single sound.

Weeks later, when your wedding invitation reached Saebyeok's hands, she had to forcefully understand that you would never return, you had left her side forever.

She had to take refuge in music and you in your perfect marriage.

This may have some parts, although I initially wanted the story to be with SeMi, in my mind Saebyeok came with every scene, so... I couldn't resist. Maybe the chapters won't be that long, just things that come to mind because I'll soon be returning to that terrible school.

Imagine Saebyeok more desperate, like when Jiyeong lost on purpose

Tell me if you want 🏷

with love and sugar, ika ♡

[arcsin27]

Please understand my vision I’m begging

[manygreetingsfriend]

i’m sooooooo normal about the god of war series. so incredibly normal i liked it a normal amount and would be so chill talking about it. don’t worry about the sign

[madamechrissy]

Bad idea right

NSFW- you trip and fall into Gojo's bed- whoopsie

"We're... still... broken - ah - up!" You scream out as ex-boyfriend Satoru is pumping you full of his cock from the back. He chuckles, husky and deep as his cock strokes in and out of your soppy little cunt, your slick dripping down the veins of his cock onto the dark blue blankets on his bed.

"Sure we are, still... ha... broken up. F-fuck." He is moaning as you clamp your pussy down on him, walls tightening, making him cry out and you giggle deviously. "Ya fuckin brat, you really trying to make me bust quick?"

Your ex-boyfriend Satoru flips you on your back then, bending you in a mating press, and you look into those dilated blue eyes, his snowy hair falling over his forehead. "Still hate you, Toru." You manage to breathe the words out, hips arching up for him.

He smirks, shoving his cock back into your greedy pussy. "I know baby, but your pussy loves me."

"Ah!" You scream out as he's stuffing his cock so deep like this, your thighs are pressed against your breasts, you can barely breathe or think, feeling your walls fluttering around his thickness. "She's fuckin s-stupid, ngh." You're gasping for a breath, nails digging into his back hard, leaving cresent marks.

"She's so wet f'me, only me. Stop lying, you... mmm... don't like that little boyfriend of- ah - yours. Gonna fuck you stupid." He's bullying his cock in between your walls so mean, tip leaky and smashing your cervix. You cling to the sheets, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open, tongue lolling out. "there it is, stupid fucked out face."

"F-fuck... you... Toru, you dick! Ohmygod, c-cumming!" You're gushing around him as your orgasm wrecks you, and now ex-boyfriend Satoru is gripping your face, shoving your legs further against you as he's thickening. You've cum so much you hear it, the squelching wetness of your cunt.

"Gonna fill your pussy up, so you remember who you belong to." You smack at his shoulder, the hard muscles bunching as he leans over then, earning his psychotic grin, he grips your chin and rolls his hips, squishing your cheeks. "You're weak f'me baby, admit it."

You can't speak anymore, you just yank him down and smash his lips against yours, tongues dripping with saliva as your thighs tremble on his hips. "Nope. Gonna have to try harder, Toru."

He chuckles, then he's fucking your every last thought out of your brain, and you will wonder how you're gonna tell everyone you tripped and fell into ass hole ex-boyfriend Satoru's bed again later, for now you're getting filled by his cum, and you will just blame your pussy for her bad judgement, couldn't be you.

Was listening to Bad Idea Right from Olivia Rodrigo and thought of our boy lol