#i feel like i could’ve pushed the values more in this piece …

[gayymomgod]

you forget yourself, saga.

[bee-writes-wbb]

Paige and maybe like drunk confessions and NSFW

Omg you’re my first request! I didn’t mean for it to take this long, but I kept starting over and going different directions!

We’ll See

Summary: Paige spills her beans after one too many.

Warnings: NSFW (🔞)

Topics/Tags/Themes/Tropes: Drunk Confessions (🍷), Friends to Lovers (💕)

You could barely hear Ice next to you over the thumping music. You, Paige, and the rest of the team had gone for drinks after practice, trying to enjoy your last few days before classes started. Paige had been quieter than usual both at practice and at the bar, initially nursing just one “dirty Shirley.” It wasn’t until Aubrey ordered a round of shots and then another that Paige seemed to snap out of her funk. She was now draped over you, yelling the lyrics to a rap song in your ear as the bass boomed around you.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” She hung off of you lazily from behind, her blonde hair tickling the side of your face. You swayed with her as she she rocked back and forth, laughing at how unsteady she had become. When she was quiet for a moment, you honestly thought she’d fallen asleep until you felt her lips on your shoulder.

“I wish you were my girlfriend though. Do you ever wish that?” She whispered against you. You froze at her words, suddenly feeling very sober despite the two tiny empty glasses in front of you. Before you could say anything, Paige disappeared, running off with someone’s phone and personally pestering each table of people in the bar.

You knew how she got when she was drunk-clingy, friendly, talkative- but even after all of the years you’d known her, she’d never said something like that. You spent the rest of the night trying not to overthink what she’d said until it was time to go.

KK and Ice rounded up the team, trying desperately to make sure everyone got back to their rooms without incident. When you finally got back, Paige flopped onto the couch the second she got inside, resting across your lap as soon as you sat down.

As her soft snores grew louder, you stroked her hair and replayed what she’d said over and over again. It would’ve been unfair to take her words at face value when you knew she was drunk, but you couldn’t stop the pieces from clicking in your mind.

You two had been best friends since your first summer session at UConn, never going a day without speaking to one another since then. There were times where you thought you two could’ve been more, but you always pushed those thoughts away, knowing how messy things could get and not even knowing if she liked you back. But that never stopped your heart from pounding in your chest when she held your waist, or rested her hand on your thigh when you were sitting next to one another. And it take away how you felt when Paige cooked you breakfast on your birthday and told you that it didn’t bother her to wake up at 5 AM to cook for you because she just wanted to make you happy. You could’ve sworn that her hugs now lasted a little longer and were a little tighter than they used to be, but you shook it off because that’s all it was. But you’d noticed other things, too, that made you pause like Paige’s new habit of falling asleep in your bed, or the way she always stared at you when you were talking. Still, you could never be too sure if the things you were noticing were true or if you just desperately wanted them to be.

KK calling out to you snapped you out of your thoughts. “Say hi to the live.”

“Hi live,” you called, shifting to ensure that Paige was just out of view.

KK and Ice bickered back and forth, having playful arguments that they asked fans to mediate as you sat in the background. They finally settled their fight and after much prompting from the audience, decided to go around the room, professing their love to each of their teammates, proving that there was no beef.

“I love you!” Ice yelled to you across the room.

“I love you too, Ice. I also love you,KK.” You laughed.

“I love you,” muttered a voice from underneath you, earning a laugh from the whole room.

“I love you too, Paige.” You giggled despite feeling like you might throw up.

Suddenly Paige sat up from your lap and stared at you. “No, I love you. Like I really really love you.” She said. It felt like world stopped as you looked at her. You knew she still had to be drunk, but eyes had never looked clearer. She took your silence as a chance to keep going.

“Like I love you in a different way than I love them,” she rambled. “I love you like-“

You cut her off before she could continue, getting up and dragging her to her feet. You pulled her into her room shutting the door quickly behind you as you heard Ice and KK try to pretend that it all meant nothing.

“Paige, what are you doing?”

“You don’t love me back?” Her blue eyes welled up with tears as she sat on her bed, staring at you, waiting for an answer.

“You’re drunk right now.” You said, trying not to let your own tears spill over.

“I’m not that drunk.” She protested, wiping the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks. Despite being the person on the team that always had a solution, you didn’t know what to do. You so desperately wanted to tell her that you did love her back, in all of the ways that she loved you. But neither of you were in any state to have that discussion at the moment. Aside from you both being friends for so long, you both were still teammates and at this time next year, both of you would be traveling the country with different WNBA teams, and who knows how either of you would feel.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. I promise” you said, walking over to pull the covers back for her to climb in. She nodded defeatedly as she laid down and tucked the covers around her, falling asleep before you even made it fully out of the door. You hurried past Ice and KK and up the stairs to your own room before falling asleep yourself.

You finally woke up when your third alarm went off the next morning, making the pounding in your head worse. You glanced at your phone, seeing that you only had a few minutes before you had to be out of the door, and got dressed as quickly as you could, ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach, realizing you would have to see Paige.

You ran out of the door, making it just in time to avoid getting yelled at. Paige stood a few spots down from you and didn’t even bother to glance at you as you walked up. The tension between you two was palpable for the entire practice, earning you a few side eyes from your teammates and a pointed, but not specific lecture about professionalism and not letting off-court business affect on-court business after Paige’s 10th missed shot in a row and your constant fumbling.

You took your time in the shower, letting everyone clear out, to avoid having to answer any questions about last night. When you thought everyone had left, you got out and got dressed. Just as you grabbed your bag to leave, you felt a tug on the strap pulling you back.

“Sit.” Paige demanded while still avoiding eye contact with you.

As much as you wanted to protest, you took a seat on the bench behind you, trying desperately to ignore the way your heart fluttered as Paige slid next to you. You both sat for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, listening to the water drip from the shower head in the other room. After what felt like an eternity, Paige finally spoke.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted, her usually dazzling eyes looking dull underneath her sadness. “I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. And it makes it worse that we had an audience. And I put you on the spot like that. Even though you don’t feel the same, I just hope that you’ll still be my friend.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” Her head whipped towards you the second the statement left your mouth.

“What? When I asked if you loved me back last night, you just left.”

“I didn’t ‘just leave.’ Neither of us were in the right space to talk about that last night, Paige. I do feel the same way about you and I have for a long time-“

She didn’t bother to let you finish, ducking her head slightly and bringing her lips to yours. Her hand found the back of your head, locking you in place as your mouths moved back and forth. After a moment she dropped her head again, leaving a trail of kisses across your jawline and down your neck.

Paige pulled you into her lap, kissing back and forth between your shoulder and the base of your neck. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as her fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt. You craned your neck to bring your lips back to hers, forgetting all about the slight strain you felt when her tongue slid across yours. Her fingers snaked their way up your shirt and played with the band of your bra before fully diving underneath. At first, both of her hands massaged your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples as she rolled each one between her fingers, causing a soft whimper to escape your lips. Then she moved to your thighs, digging her fingertips into your soft skin. You could feel her smirk against you as you desperately guided her hands from your thighs to the waistband of your shorts.

You could barely feel her fingers at first as they ghosted over your clothed center, moving back and forth, teasing you. You let out a whimper, giving her confirmation to go further and she finally slid her fingers over your bare center.

You moaned into her mouth as she applied gentle pressure to your clit in circular motions. Your hips followed the rhythm of her two fingers intensifying the feeling building in your stomach. She dragged her fingers from your clit to your folds, covering them with juices before she entered you.

Your head fell back against hers as she finally entered you with one finger, adding another as you adjusted. You continued to move your hips against her as she curled her fingers in and out of you. She started slowly and increased her pace as your moans grew more and more frequent. She loved the way her name spilled off of your tongue and the way your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold yourself together.

“Oh my god, Paige” you whined, not caring who might hear. Her other hand trailed back under your shirt giving your nipples a squeeze one last time. The sensation of her hands roaming your body combined with her plunging in and out of you sent you over the edge. You pushed back into her as your body clenched around her, finally reaching your peak. She slowed her motions inside of you, letting you come down and catch your breath before she pulled out of you. Paige brought her fingers to her lips and sucked your juices off of them, savoring the taste of you.

“You taste so good,” she groaned. “See?” She pulled your head to hers, placing a deep kiss on your lips, giving you a taste of yourself.

You both sat for a moment, unmoving, while processing what you’d just done. Neither of you were upset about it, but you knew that a lot of big conversations would need to happen to make sense of it all.

“Paige-“ you started only to be interrupted by the door opening on the other side of the room. You both quickly scrambled from the precarious position you were in, trying not to make it obvious what you had just done.

KK walked in quickly, startled by the both of you. “Oh, hey. I grabbed the wrong shoes earlier.” She said, walking to her locker. “Did y’all talk?”

“Yeah, we talked.” Paige responded, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“So… what’s gonna happen now?” KK asked, looking between the two of you.

“We’ll see.” You said, finally throwing your bag across your shoulders.

[tripleglitchwriting]

My earthspark Season 2a thoughts

Warning: SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE THING!!! And a lot of rambling. And negative thoughts.

As much as i hate to admit it, I was kind of disappointed. It’s not that it was bad, I did still enjoy it, but I feel like there was so much missed opportunity.

The show wasn’t well advertised for, especially season 2. I have a feeling Hazbro doesn’t really care much for it. I think the team that works on the show is great! They’re obviously very talented, passionate, and hardworking, but (so far) season 2 saw a definite downgrade from season 1.

The animation is the first thing that comes to mind. While it is still tv show quality, when compared to season 1 in some parts it feels clankier and less polished. Though I don’t know much about 3D animation other than it’s hard, so I suppose I can’t really critique something I have no practice in.

Then I come to the characters. Here I see the seasons biggest flaw. Starscream’s character arc got completely obliterated, (though they did at least mention his interaction with Hashtag) Nightshade got sidelined compared to the other terrans, and Breakdowns character arc also got the boot.

Breakdown interacted with Bumblebee once, and it was in the finale while they were fighting in the background. If it were just this plotline that got pushed off, I would be fine with it. It’s hard to fit in every single character thread in 9 episodes while also introducing new things. Except it wasn’t just this.

In season 1 they set up the perfect redemption arc for Starscream. Him finally meeting someone that actually listens to him, Megatron’s past abuse and Starscream feelings about his subsequent redemption, it was really interesting to see! But then he pulled a Steeljaw and decided to make New Cybertron. Character wise, sure, I can see why he would want to do that. However, it totally disregards his past interactions. We don’t even know how he found out about the titan, there are so many missing pieces.

Then there’s Cosmos. I think Cosmos is great! I think it’s cool that his voice is Weird Al! I was so excited to get to the next episode and see him take Robbie’s offer to join team Terran and the autobots… and then we don’t see him again. They even set up a potential conflict with Megatron being redeemed! And then nothing! My theory is they couldn’t afford weird al for another episode. Maybe he’ll be back in 2b?

Personally, I don’t like the chaos terrans. It’s an interesting concept, and it isn’t executed as poorly as it could’ve been, but they just fell below the bar for me.

Aftermath has one character trait and it’s hitting things. For the start of his character, that’s fine! Having him only see value in destruction is an interesting foil to Jawbreaker and the rest of the terrans. However, even after the episode with him and Jawbreaker, he doesn’t change. He steals the cave water (which, by the way, how do they get fuel now???? Does it come back???) and goes back to being terrible. I can see what they were trying to do with him, it’s cool having a character that was made to be evil go up against characters who try and Steven universe anybody that shows a hint of the possibility to change. But there’s just nothing interesting about Aftermath. They don’t even dive into his relationship with Breakdown that much after his debut episode.

And then there’s Spitfire. I have mixed feelings about her. On one hand, shes pretty much the shape the hedgehog of transformers. She’s the mean edgy version of an already established ‘good’ character who is designed to be better than said already established good character. On its own that’s pretty overdone, and so is the body switch troupe. It’s a good hook but super predictable. She’s more interesting than Aftermath, at least she has a reason to stay evil, but she just feels like a plot device to create conflict rather than an actual well-formed character. Maybe that’s what she is? On the other hand, her debut episode is really well directed! It was some fantastic shots and combat sequences! I absolutely love what they did with that! The fact she nearly killed Wheeljack was really surprising (in a good way) to me! It even played to Wheeljack character by having him be the first to figure her out!

A good amount of the episodes were as well directed as episode 6. They have a lot of good moments! Some I even laughed out loud at! It may just be the fact only half the season is out, but really 2a felt a bit empty. We got no new characters other than Cosmos (who had like 10 lines and then dipped) the chaos terrans, and the fairmiestero. There were a lot of missed opportunities in that department and in the department of pre existing characters.

Nothing new about Megatron (though I did enjoy the part we got to explore cybertronian culture with the polyhex tournament!) and no comebacks of older characters (where is prowl).

I thought the quintesson lore was pretty interesting though! They will probably be the villains of 2b. I still have hope for the series. They could right a lot of wrongs with the next part of season 2. I sincerely hope these loose ends get tied up.

I’m tired, I have more to say but the energy to type it all out is not there. I also didn’t proofread this so sorry if it’s just rambling and spelling mistakes haha.

[bi-bats]

oh? the couch? 👀

I actually posted a snippet of it once here!! Instead of giving you the premise, I'm going to give you a longer snippet! This chunk happens before the one I linked above (the one that was for word game wednesday):

“Well fortunately for me, you don’t want me dead anymore,” Tim smirked, and Jason twitched a little, letting out a laugh that was a little strained. He thought it was fair, considering how often Jason made other people make the same face when he joked about his death. While Jason got his face under control, Tim turned, sliding his toes out from under Jason’s thigh and dropping his feet to the floor, leaning his head back on Jason’s arm as he sipped at his coffee. The thing was, Jason had been… touchy. When they were alone.  They seemed to be alone together more frequently than they used to be, too, and something about that always made Tim feel warm. The touching wasn’t anything that pushed boundaries, just sitting a little closer together than they would have before, ruffles of his hair, occasional shows of physical affection, but it was enough for him to notice the difference.  He dismissed the idea that Jason was interested every time he suspected it, though. Tim was biased, he wanted it to be true, and it wasn’t like he’d never seen Jason like this with anyone.  He’d seen Kori throw her arm around him while they ate, Roy fall asleep on his shoulder. He’d seen Jason lay his head in Donna’s lap, seen him fully cuddling with Kyle once or twice, though Tim sort of suspected they used to have something more than friendship.  The point was, Jason was just like this with his friends.  It still made that pleased thing lounge in his gut that Jason was like that with him, too. And when Tim laid his head back on Jason’s arm, he dropped it around Tim’s shoulder, pulling him against his side so he could pillow his head on his chest.  “Seriously, Tim. You gotta get more sleep, or if you’re not gonna do that, at least be more careful where you crash.”  “Where’d I crash?”  “An apartment rooftop. With roof access.” Jason frowned down at him, and Tim looked into his coffee. “It could’ve been bad, little bird.”  That was the other new thing. The nicknames.  Tim found he didn’t mind little bird as much. Little red made him feel like Jason’s kid brother, like he was trying to imitate him and falling short of the mark.  Little bird made him feel… precious. Like he was something Jason valued. Something he wanted to keep safe.  “Oh, that one’s fine?” Jason asked.  “It’s better,” Tim agreed. “Sorry for making you peel me off a rooftop. I was being reckless.” “Don’t beat yourself up about it, you didn’t make me do anything. Just be more careful.” “Aw, are you worried about me?” Tim tried to tease, peeking up at Jason’s face, waiting for him to blush and deny it the way he usually did. It always felt good to see that dusting of pink across his freckled cheeks, because that was how Tim knew he was lying.  But instead, Jason looked down at him, his blue-green eyes unusually sincere. “Wouldn’t you be worried if you found me passed out on a rooftop?” 

I'm not working on this one super actively atm, but it does have a cute little plot and would probably be a one-shot. I'd guess maybe 20k words or less? (Then again, I'm terrible at predicting the length of my pieces so take that with a grain of salt lmao)

Anyways, hope you enjoyed and thanks for the ask as always bestie!!!! 💖💖💖💖💖

[crucislife]

It’s over. She ended things. Almost just after a week when I said I wanted to and she begged me to stay. We had made so many promises to each other, that we’d help each other grow, that we’d be better people for each other.

I kept trying to keep my end of the deal, but I felt that she always took it a little more lightly and tried for a couple days before falling back comfortably into her old patterns. And after sone time, it felt like I was forcing her to be someone she maybe wasn’t by asking her to change those things about her.

Am I not worth changing for? Or do I ask too much of people? Or maybe I deserve better? But then it did seem that she was trying at times right? But then again she always hurt me in one way or another and she held on to things just as easily as I let them go, so what does that even mean?

Deep inside I know the answer but am too scared to admit it, she wasn’t the right one for me. And that’s that. She needs to mature more if she wants to make it bigger in this world but at the same time, she keeps being the spoilt rich brat she has been, and those kind of people scare me the most, the ones who have money, because for people who have generational wealth, they are taught to hide their problems and the truth alike, ever since they are little, they’re taught to care about what others think of them more than what they think of themselves, and it makes them experts at faking things, and I’m scared of how good they do it, intimidated even.

She always seemed like a faker to me, but I did get the glimpses of the real her, the one who didn’t want to be fake, the one who cried for help, and it feels like I’ve abandoned that part of her that truly needed me. Maybe if I’d pushed a little harder? Maybe if I’d have listened a little more? Maybe if I’d have shown her love just one more time? But how could I? How could I when I had already broken my being into billions of pieces and made each piece beg her to let me help her.

See that’s the thing about help, you can only offer it to someone to an extent, you can only shove it into their face for a limited amount of time before you lose all self respect and reduce yourself to nothing. The worst part is, I saw myself being reduced to nothing in the pursuit of helping her, hundreds of other people did too, but alas! She didn’t, for her, it wasn’t her main concern. No, her concerns were where my hands were while we kissed and how I could’ve kissed her better while my mind wandered off in search of itself because I felt it just now, it was right here asking me to run, to run for my life and not look back and yet, as soon as she kissed me, it shut itself up, hopeless, as if she’d read it if it spoke up, and it couldn’t bear the thought of her finding out that way.

Trying to protect someone can do no good if they don’t realise what you’re doing for them, maybe once she goes out in the world all on her own again, and sees the changes I had been bringing into her life, she’ll see my value. But by then, it’ll be a little too late for her to have realised it because I won’t go back to being tortured every second of my life. I’m truly done with that part of it.

[ofbrashfate]

Kevin didn’t know how honesty was going to land him the girl now. Given the wild history, the easy way Sophie and I had fallen into each other. How easy we fell in love; yes Sophie held me accountable for my mistakes. She didn’t let me out scott free. It’s what I loved about her; she held me accountable she made me want to improve, to let her in completely; to love her, and her love me flaws and all. But he also felt Sophie had every right to kick him out; he could’ve left it be. Let her go. But to Kevin there was a reason. A reason why he constantly turned back to her. Through his history; through the pages of insecurity, the pages of lost. She was girl he fall so far in love with from the day he laid eyes on her. And through each screw up, Kevin hoped someday he’d be the guy who showed up for her. 

But now all those mistakes felt meaningful. Sophie had her great escape, no memories of the heartache; all the times I had let her down. And it was easy to say my insecurities was due to my family. Of feeling small in the crowded room. I knew growing up Kate and Randell needed more attention the validation the reassurance. But it looking back now I felt like the odd one out. I felt like I was the child who was left in the dark; I chose Sophie that night; to be with the girl I felt empowered with; valued with instead of being home that night. The night our lives were altered; the night we lost him; our dad. And even to this day I felt shame; I felt like shit but I still wanted to be half the man my father was; loyal, devoted, a wonderful caring father. I’d do anything for my kids now; the only missing piece to pure joy; happiness was Sophie; which felt like that bridge had turned over more times than I cared to admit.

But sitting here now; in a lonely room with her; no memories of who I was, what I once meant to her; she was in pain it was obvious and it took every ounce of me not to reach closer to her; to comfort her. But I had to remind myself it wasn’t my place; I was essentially a stranger to her. Yet she was finding words of wisdom to comfort me, and my family issues; issues I had pushed down for years. I felt valuable now; as I nodded, and I wanted to just say yeah; but does the actions justify how they made one kid feel? Perhaps it was the father in me talking having twins; I never wanted one to feel singled out compared to the other. My voice low now as I aired out. “ I was the more independent one out of us three kids, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t want to spend time with my parents; to feel seen.” I didn’t want to dig farther into it; that was a few months into dating conversation; and for now considering Sophie had yet to kick me to the curb I felt as if I should shut myself up now. 

A fresh start; I swore that goofy grin played at the tips of lips “ I say dinner sounds good, and if by chance you do remember the dickhead moves i’ve made in the past you don’t have to feel guilty when you let me down easy.” I added; I wanted a fresh start with the female; I loved her but I also didn’t want her to feel obligated to because I was the one sitting with her. As a nurse came by to check on her; I asked “ Can I have a marker, Sharpie to sign her cast?” I nodded to the cast on her leg as if it was obvious. I’m a dad and doesn’t carry markers on hand, shame on me. With that charming girn the nurse nodded, before disappearing from the room. “ I’ll write something that where you won’t help but think of me.” I was joking; but I also wanted to keep the airy conversations between us; at ease as if we’re the anchor that holds each other whole.

@ofbrashfate

{Given all the years I had known and loved Kevin, I could read him like a book. With that thought in mind, even though he was wearing a smile now, in response to my comment, I could see right through it... He was hurt and disappointed by my preference to take things slow between us. I know how a response like this typically goes between people... In most cases, it's a way to let the other person down gently, since they had no intentions of actually seeing where it went between the two of you. That wasn't the case here and now though. I meant what I said. Of course I still loved Kevin, and with that, I also knew how easy it would be to fall right back into a relationship with him again. He was my one great love, and I wanted to believe the two of us would be end game, before all is said and done. Even in knowing that, we had been down this path so many times before, and it always ended in heartbreak, so I needed to be smart this time around} Kevin... {I started to say when I saw his face drop, and the subject suddenly changed. I hate that I had hurt him, but I knew I wasn't ready to just jump back into a relationship with Kevin. That didn't mean I wouldn't be, over time, but for now, I had to do what I thought was best. Either way, as we started toward the exit of the cafeteria, I could see he was trying to put on a brave face. For now I let the subject drop. Sure, I wanted to say something to comfort him now, but at the same point, I didn't want to make matters worse between us. With that thought in mind, I remained silent as the two of us started toward the elevator. In noticing a sign saying it was temporarily closed for maintenance, I gave a nod toward the nearby staircase} Let's take the stairs... When they do maintenance on the elevators, it could last anywhere from ten minutes to a couple of hours, depending on the task at hand. {I said with a casual shrug as we started toward the staircase. I let Kevin take the lead. It was only a couple of floors up, so it wouldn't be a bad walk. Besides, a little cardio never hurt anyone, right? I justified as I followed Kevin up the staircase. My thought fixed on our conversation back in the cafeteria as we continued to ascend the staircase. I hated how uncomfortable I had made things between us now, and although I felt I was doing the right thing for us both, at the same point, I wanted Kevin to know that this wasn't me shooting him down. I still loved him, but the timing just didn't feel right for me now. Some day though, I knew in my heart that Kevin and I would find our way back to each other. I silently thought as we nearly reached our desired floor; briefly using my free hand to grip Kevin's shirt to stop him for a second so I could say what was on my heart} Kevin, this isn't a "no." I love you. I will always love you. That's not the problem, here. It's just the timing doesn't feel right for me now... {I started to say before adding in further reassurance} Just know that when it comes to us, it's never off the table. {My way of further reiterating that I wanted us to be "us" again, some day. I silently thought as I released my hand from his shirt, then proceeded to continue ascending the last couple of stairs that led us to our floor. I hadn't quite reached the top when my foot unknowingly found some water left on the floor. In one split second, I lost my balance, the tray of coffee flew out of my hands, and without being able to stop myself, I fell backwards; not so gracefully tumbling back down the staircase, before hitting the bottom with a thud} Ow... {I mumbled out as I felt my head pounding, my body filled with pain, and I laid still on the floor below me}

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part sixteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

smut warnings: female masturbation, porn, mentions of choking

“‘We’? Like, you and me?” you clarified, hoping you had misunderstood.

“Yeah, it’ll only take a second,” Tom assured you.

You looked to Sam for help, but he looked just as lost as you were. “I’ll go try and find a microwave to heat up your leftovers,” he offered and took the container back from you. “I’ll be right back, babe.”

“Okay...”

You watched him shrug past both you and Tom and then disappear into the hallway with a sinking feeling in your chest, knowing he trusted you completely. He had no reason not to, and that’s what consumed you. 

“What do you want?” you muttered, reluctantly stepping to the side to let Tom in. 

He didn’t answer right away, giving you a moment to collect yourself. His eyes followed you around the room as you found your pants and tugged them on. He averted his gaze when he realized you were getting dressed mumbling a “sorry” as he trained his eyes on the carpet. 

You sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain why he was there. 

“You weren’t there today,” was all he said. 

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Was it because of me?”

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Tom’s tongue poked at the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”

“I had a lot to drink last night,” you reminded him. 

“So you don’t remember anything?”

“I never said that.”

“So it was because of me?”

“I never said that either.” You sighed. “If you’re here to ask me if I told him you kissed me, I didn’t. And you could’ve just texted me to ask.”

“No that’s not why- I don’t have your number anyway.”

“I’m in the trip group chat with your family.”

“Oh, right. I’ll save it to my contacts.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It felt like all of the air had been sucked out and replaced with thick, suffocating silence. Arbitrarily, you wondered who the most famous person in his phone was. He was a Marvel actor, he probably had Simu Liu’s number, right? Who would your contact information be sitting in between? Maybe if you ever forgave him for what he did you could ask him. 

“Is something funny?” The firmness of Tom’s voice cut through your train of thought and brought you back to the present. “Why are you smiling?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said despondently. “Sam’s gonna be back soon. What did you want?”

“I just wanted to check up on you. Sam said you were sick.”

“Oh, so you wanted to see if I was lying?”

“No! God, why is it so hard to believe that I’m genuinely concerned about you?”

“Because last night you only seemed concerned about yourself.”

Tom pursed his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets, expelling a breath harshly. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You hummed in agreement, and let your eyes trail down the veins of his arms to where they disappeared into his pockets. It looked like he was fiddling with a coin or something small, but you couldn’t tell. 

“Are you feeling better?” he said the last part through gritted teeth.

“Yes, thank you. This chat has helped considerably.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Well, lucky for you I’m not your problem to deal with. I'm Sam’s.”

He flexed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “Okay, well, I also wanted to apologize again for...” the word kiss seemed to die on his lips, poetic irony at its finest. “Being a dick.” Less poetic. 

He finally fished his hand out of his pocket, holding a delicate piece of paper between his pointer and index fingers. He shifted uncomfortably where he was leaning against the dresser. “We went to the Academic Gallery today. I saw this in the gift shop and thought of you.” He presented you with what turned out to be a postcard, creased down the middle unevenly and smudged with pen ink.

You turned it over to look at the front first, admiring the artwork printed on it. It was a picture of Michelangelo’s David drawn in swoopy black lines and filled in with watercolor paint. Instead of a museum, the statue was in the middle of a garden, the centerpiece among dozens upon dozens of flowers. 

 “Sorry it’s folded,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t fit in my pocket.”

You flipped it over to read the back only to see iou scribbled in his handwriting and nothing else. You turned it over again to see if you had missed something on the front, but there was nothing.

You looked up at him in confusion. “Iou?” 

“Yeah, you know... I feel really bad about last night, and I don’t really know how to make it up to you so I’m letting you decide.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

“I think that this counts as an exception, since we’re kind of in uncharted territory.”

“Maybe for you. My boyfriend’s brothers make out with me all the time.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t make out with you- it was barely a peck.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than a peck.”

His cheeks were beginning to grow pink with what you couldn’t tell was either embarrassment or frustration. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject. “Anyway, if you ever need a favor or anything, just let me know. Think of it as me owing you one.”

“And do I have to give back the postcard when I cash in this ‘favor’?” you asked.

“No, you can keep it.”

“Good, because I was going to keep it anyway.”

He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head. “Knew you’d like it.”

You flattened the card on your lap, smiling as you tried to iron out the little crease with your fingers. 

“It’s pretty, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement and straightened his posture. “I should get going. I just wanted to give you that, and see how you were doing since tomorrow’s a travel day and I know you get a little motion sick sometimes. I didn’t want... whatever you’d come down with to make it worse.”

How did he know that? Had Sam told him? You didn’t have time to ask because he was already walking towards the door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head towards you, hand already on the knob. 

“Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, Tom.”

  He opened the door and let himself out into the hallway, catching it suddenly on his foot as he saw Sam coming off the elevator. Tom held the door for Sam, since his hands were full, and then said goodnight to his brother as he finally left.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the microwave,” he explained. “I had to ask the night manager and they heated it up in the break room for me.”

“Oh, Sam, you didn’t have to do that! I would’ve eaten it cold.”

“I know you would have, and that’s why I’m not letting you.” You gave him a look, which he ignored and handed you the container of food. “It’s carbonara, it’s one of the things Rome is known for. I couldn’t have you eating it lukewarm.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a seat next to you on the edge of the bed, pulling the ottoman closer to use it as a makeshift table. He watched as you tried the first bite, gauging your reaction. It was something he did whenever he cooked for you, especially if he was trying out a new recipe. He always needed your approval, and valued it above anybody else’s. But he hadn’t even made this, and as his eyes searched your face you found yourself wondering if they were looking for something else. 

“Do you like it?” 

You breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Your paranoia was starting to get the better of you. “It’s delicious,” you assured him. “I’m sad I missed dinner.”

“I’m sad you missed the whole day. Spending time with my family without you was hell.”

“Oh come on, it’s probably good that you got some real family time.”

“It’s real family time when you’re there. It felt like something was missing.” 

You let a small smile slip past your lips despite the guilt that bubbled under the surface. You pushed it down and took another bite of the carbonara. 

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you? It can’t have all been bad. Tell me about the good stuff. I wanna hear that.”

Sam nodded and pushed his curls back again, grinning like he’d been caught. “Fine, maybe there were some okay moments.”

“And what were they?”

“We went to the Accademia Gallery today. I think you would have really liked it. They had a whole wing of instruments from some of the most famous inventors and musicians from history. They even had pianos from Bartolomeo Cristorfori, the inventor of the piano.”

“Wow,” you said, impressed. “I bet it was beautiful.”

“Of course if it was played, it wouldn’t sound anything like the piano we’re used to hearing today, but I’m sure it would still sound incredible.”

“Even if it hasn’t been tuned in a few hundred years?”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Yes, of course.”

“Sorry.”

“And they had a Strativerius, I don’t even want to know how valuable that thing is. It must cost millions. I took some pictures for you, but I know they won’t compare to the real thing. The lighting in museums never does the art justice.”

He handed his phone to you to scroll through. You swiped the photos, smiling whenever you came across a selfie he’d taken with a statue or painting. You reached the pictures of David and couldn’t help but zoom in on-

“Hey!” Sam yelped and grabbed his phone back from your hands.

“What!”

“Michelangelo would be so ashamed of you! I bet he’s rolling in his grave right now.”

“No way! If anyone appreciated good dick, it was Michelangelo.” 

“Unbelievable.” 

“If you don’t want me to judge these statue’s penises, don’t take pictures of them.”

“I didn’t take pictures of their penises! I took pictures of the whole statue- you’re zooming in on- you know what, nevermind. Arguing with you about this is pointless.”

“Smart boy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you and put his phone in his back pocket. “Oh yeah, did Tom give you that postcard?”

“He told you about that?” you asked, suddenly panicking. Sam hadn’t said anything about last night so far, but maybe Tom had-

“Yeah, said he wanted to give you an iou for the limoncello last night.”

“What?”

“He said you paid the tab for it since he left his wallet in the room and that he wanted to pay you back for it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Another lie. You had very much not paid for the drinks last night. Tom had. And you knew he had to make an excuse for why he was buying his brother’s girlfriend something from the gift shop, but to add another lie to the ever-growing list made your throat burn with regret. You wouldn’t be able to keep the secret forever, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around you. 

-

In the morning you took the train from Rome to Naples, and then took a taxi to Sorrento to spend the last bit of your week in Italy by the sea. The atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been in the busy cities of Rome and Florence. Even though there were still hordes of tourists, they were far more dispersed and less overbearing than you expected. The whole town seemed slowed down, like it had escaped the chokehold of time. 

Sam’s parents took everyone out to lunch by the water and went over the schedule for the next day and a half. 

“So, you’re on your own after dinner tonight, and then tomorrow morning we’re going to take the ferry to Capri for the day before our flight that night,” Nikki explained as she read through the spreadsheet on her phone. 

“There’s an Irish pub down the street from our hotel,” Harry said. “Do you guys want to go after we eat tonight?”

“I’m down,” Sam agreed. 

“Sounds good,” Tom chimed in.

The boys all looked at you for your answer, but you hesitated. Thinking about what happened the last time you drank didn’t make you eager to do it again, and you were already exhausted from travelling.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Why?” Sam asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d rather go somewhere Italian... since we’re in Italy.”

Harry shrugged. “Your loss.”

“We’ll have a shot in your honor, babe,” Sam said and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Please don’t. Something tells me you’ll have plenty to drink without an extra shot for me.”

“You know us so well.”

After dinner, you walked back to the hotel with the Hollands and said good night to Sam’s parents before parting ways to your separate rooms. Sam went with you to change into clothes for going out while you changed into pajamas. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

You nodded from where you were on the bed and yawned. Sam didn’t push any further, instead resolving to finish getting ready in silence. He paired his black jeans with a pair of converse and a dark green button up over a black t-shirt. 

He turned to you for approval.

“Fake girlfriend approved?”

“Fake girlfriend approved,” you repeated and gave him a thumbs up. 

“Okay, well I’m headed out,” he announced. 

“Have fun! Don’t kiss any cute girls without me!” 

It was something you always said to each other, but it sounded strange since it was supposed to be coming from his girlfriend. Sam just chuckled and blew you a kiss as he let himself out. 

You heard him greet his brothers outside and then listened to their footsteps fade into the distance before pulling up an incognito window on your phone. It had been weeks since you’d been able to get off and it was killing you. The amount of stress this trip had given you only made it worse. You were wound so tight that you were sure you’d snap soon if you didn’t get some relief. 

And you thought that maybe if you rubbed one out it might help you forget about... the confusing feelings you had for your best friend’s brother. 

Seeing as you had the night to yourself, you figured you might as well take advantage of it. You copied a link from your notes app and pasted the url into the address bar. You didn’t feel like digging through your luggage to find your earbuds so you set the volume low enough for only you to hear. 

The video started playing and you let your hand wander from your side up to your neck, brushing your hand lightly across your collarbone. You traced the curve of your breasts with a finger before squeezing one of them gently, feeling your nipple harden under your palm. You only had one hand to use since the other was holding your phone, but you made do. 

The video was one of your favorites, one you found yourself watching at least once a week. It was one of the few videos of hetero couples you had favorited, and it started with the guy going down on the girl before fucking her...

You admired the muscles on the man’s back, watching intently as they flexed whenever he moved his head. The woman moaned, struggling to keep her legs open while he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. 

You let your hand travel down further until it was sitting at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You knew you had a while before Sam would be back, but you were too impatient to wait. You propped your phone up on a pillow next to you to free your other hand as you started to play with your clit. 

You pictured someone’s head in between your thighs, imagining them moaning against your pussy as they tasted you for the first time. 

The man was taking his pants off now and lining himself up with his partner’s pussy. You tried to follow along, putting yourself in the moment with the couple. You gathered your own wetness on two of your fingers to lubricate them and slid them inside yourself, sighing in relief. Your entire body tensed as it accommodated to the stretch and you gave yourself a few beats before moving your fingers. 

When you finally did, you felt yourself relax and sped up your pace so that it matched the actors on screen.

The angle the video was shot at hid the man’s face and you found yourself wondering what he looked like. If you squinted you could almost picture Tom- no. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, but it was already there. 

Closing your eyes didn’t help either. You just imagined Tom’s fingers sliding in and out of you instead of your own, imagined the veins on his arms becoming more pronounced as he tightened his grip on your thigh. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, knowing you should stop. 

You were too close to stop now, and the pleasure was clouding your judgement. Suddenly the man brought his hand up to the girl’s throat and began to choke her, sending her hurtling into her own orgasm. You moaned accidentally, thinking about Tom’s hand around your throat. You curled your fingers up so that you were hitting your g-spot and whimpered pathetically.

This was wrong. This was bad. Not only were you fantasizing about your best friend’s brother, but you were confusing yourself even further. 

You tried to fight it, at least that’s what you told yourself, but all you could hear were Tom’s moans echoing through the speaker. You pictured the way he’d look on top of you. His eyes would be so dark and he’d be smirking like the cocky asshole he was, chain hanging down in your face- just inviting you to take it into your mouth. It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm begin to build. The video was still playing in the background, the man still chasing his own high and bringing his partner to her second orgasm, but you’d tuned it out by now. You came around your fingers thinking about Tom’s hips snapping into yours. 

You were fucked.

lmk what you think!! i always appreciate feedback

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[majestyeverlasting]

Can you write prompt(s) 40 & 48 with Dad!Bucky x reader pls?

♡ Of course! Thanks for sending this request in! For the kids, I went ahead and used Jamie and Eden, who are in my Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader fics. There's cute and funny family ~shenanigans~ in this piece (and Eden ends up duping Bucky). I hope you like it!

♡ Prompt 40: "There it is. There's that smile."

♡ Prompt 48: "Those are my pajama pants. They're literally slipping down your waist."

♡ To make a request for my One Month Tumblr-versary, check out my Fluffy Prompt List :)

No Such Thing as Winning By Default Tonight

The way Jamie and Eden greeted Bucky at the door always gave him something to look forward to, to cherish. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet as if it had been ages since they last saw him. In reality, it had only been a span of hours since he’d left that morning. And with sparkling eyes, they waited for him to take off his backpack and shrug off the leather jacket. You’d spent the day out with them, and they were ready to tell their father about everything. From checking out new books at the library, going to the park, and even getting snow cones.

As soon as Bucky finished putting his things in the closet, he scooped Eden up and kissed her cheek. And he pulled Jamie into a hug after giving him a fist bump—the gesture was something the boy insisted they started doing everyday because it was ‘cool.’ It was important not to forget the explosion fingers right after, because that’s what made fist bumps even cooler.

The kids talked a mile a minute as they told Bucky about their day—as if their lives depended on it. Hundreds of people had told him hundreds of things over the years and, yet, listening to their words—and yours—added a value to his life that he hadn't, or couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. A smile stretched across your face when he entered the living room with Jamie and Eden on either side of him. You were sitting on the couch with the laundry basket on the floor in front of you. Folding clothes that, admittedly, should’ve already been taken care of.

Bucky shot you a wink when your eyes met his, and you felt the smallest flutter in your stomach. After spending the day with children, you were glad to have some adult company again. It helped that he was particularly attractive in his unshaven state. “Hey, stranger,” you teased, affectionately. “How was your day?”

“Not too bad,” he said, draping his arms over the kids’ shoulders. “From what these two were telling me, it sounds like you guys went around the world while I was gone.”

That earned a laugh from you. “It feels like we did. I’m not moving for the next week.”

Jamie snorted. “But don’t you have to move? You can’t just stay still,” he said. “You’re moving right now to fold the clothes.”

You gave him a flat look, narrowing your eyes. Everyone else laughed. “Well, in that case, mister, how about you three come do it for me so I don’t have to move?” Your tone was playful.

“Uhhh... Dad can do it. I forgot how to fold,” he lied.

“‘Dad can do it?’” Bucky repeated, looking down at him in feigned disagreement. If you truly needed a break, or wanted any sort of additional help, he’d step in a heartbeat—he always did.

“Wait, I’m actually pretty good at it,” Eden spoke up, leaving her father’s side to plop beside you. “Do you want me to help, Mommy?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked out one of her shirts from the basket.

It was then that Jamie decided he was going to assist too. Instead of joining the two of you on the couch, however, he sat crossed-legged on the floor, and dug to the bottom of the basket in search of his favorite race car graphic tee. The way their brows furrowed in concentration was adorable. And because they were no longer glued to Bucky, he was able to lean down and press a kiss to your temple, hands bracing on the plush arm of the couch. Before he could pull too far away, you cupped his chin and directed his lips to yours in a brief kiss, sighing through your nose. You felt him smile upon hearing the kids’ quiet giggles.

Eden’s voice soon arose. “Hey, Mommy, look. Is this good enough?” Bucky pulled away and straightened back to his full height, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

On Eden’s lap was a white shirt printed with pink flowers that she had folded. “It looks great, E. Put it on the stack of your other stuff.” You pointed to the clothes of hers that you had already folded.

What you ended up finding later that evening was that one of the kids had accidentally placed Bucky’s navy blue pajama pants in your sleepwear drawer. Considering he was off in the playroom with them, you decided to put them on to go get a reaction out of him. You paired them with a gray V-neck.

When you walked in on him and the kids, they were winning in what appeared to be a play fight. They hovered over him as his back was against the floor. A helpless smile budded on your face as you stood watching in the doorway. He tried to prop himself up upon noticing you, but Jamie growled and pushed chest back down.

“Do you surrender?” He asked his father.

A laugh bubbled up Bucky’s throat. “Yes, I surrender.”

“I don’t believe him,” Eden told Jamie.

“I do! I promise,” Bucky said. “I just wanna talk to your mom.”

They let him sit up, and you caught the way his gaze traveled up your body. “Hey… those are my pajama pants,” he said, pushing himself from the floor to go stand in front of you. “They’re literally slipping down your waist.” To prove his point, he attempted to pull them up to a more proper resting place on your hips. But they slouched back down a bit when he let go.

“No they’re not," you challenged with a smile. "They’re mine."

“Oh, is that right?” He let his hands come to rest on your hips, and in turn you wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. “They look good on you,” he said, voice low. And before you could register his intentions, he reached around you to squeeze your backside.

Bucky chuckled at your small squeak and dipped down for a kiss. He was gentle, and warm, and smelled woodsy. When he started to pull away, you thought it was way too soon. But, a second later, you realized it was because Jamie had started tugging on the back of his shirt.

You stifled a laugh at the way he rolled his eyes before turning around. “May I help you?” He asked the boy.

“Can we do one more round?” Jamie asked. “But this time you have to go harder on us.”

Eden came to stand beside her brother’s side. “Yeah! And Mommy can be on a team with me and Jamie,” she said.

Bucky looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You up for that?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Maybe I should just watch. These pants probably make me wardrobe malfunction prone.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll be fine.”

That assurance is what landed you in a four-person play fight. Per Jamie’s request, Bucky does exert a little more effort. But he was still overly mindful that nobody got hurt in any other way. For the first few moments, you drew back and let Jamie and Eden make most of the advances on their father. They practically cackled every time he pinned them.

But he eventually locked eyes with you, and you knew he wasn't going to let you remain in the background of the action anymore. All you could do was squeal when he made a very direct advancement. Because you were already kneeling, it didn’t take much for him to force you the rest of the way to the floor. It happened so swiftly that all you could do was let out a surprised huff of laughter. Somehow he managed to capture both of your wrist.

“He’s got Mommy!” You heard Eden say. Then she came to your rescue by pushing his shoulder to divert his attention.

In the sliver of time before Bucky walked on his knees to get the girl, Jamie did a discrete signal to her that she nodded to. All it was was a quick swipe of his pointer finger down his cheek. And between you and Bucky, only you caught their quick exchange. It took a second for it to click that he had told her to fake cry. Or pretend to be hurt, at least.

As soon as Bucky gathered Eden into his arms, and lowered her to the floor in the most gentle 'slam' ever, she enacted their scheme. From her lying position, she winced and released a soft whine. There was no possible way that what he did could've caused any pain, but Bucky didn't even rationalize that. The only thing that rang in his mind was that he'd just hurt his little girl.

“Shoot! I’m sorry, babydoll.” He repositioned to sit in a narrow straddle, and coaxed her up to sit on his thigh. The tenderness of his voice made you want to tell him that she was fine. "What hurts, hmm?" She just continued pouting. Jamie put a hand over his mouth to hide either a smile or shock that it actually worked.

Bucky sighed as his eyes flickered over to you. All you could do was offer an expression that was likely a mix between neutral and guilty. Then he redirected his attention back to Eden and started pressing consoling kisses to her hair. When he noticed her beginning to smile, relief flooded through him. “There it is. There’s that smile,” he said. "I really am sorry, sunshine. Didn't mean to hurt you."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "Daddy..." she said, voice tentative. "I was just kidding..."

Jamie was quick to pitch in. "I only told her to so we could win by default or something. At least she's actually okay, right?" The hopeful edge to his tone made you bite back a smile. "Mom was in on it too." Snitch.

Bucky's mouth fell slightly agape, but he let out a small laugh a second later, shaking his head. "Wow," he breathed. "'Win by default,' huh? Give me a heart attack to 'win by default.'" In all fairness, it had been a somewhat mean trick. But nothing he couldn't recover from.

"I didn't even know if you were gonna believe me!" Eden claimed. She squealed when he suddenly laid onto his back, taking her with him. The sound of their mixed laughter filled the room, and the energetic buzz returned to the atmosphere.

Then Bucky made a proposal to your team. "You guys are gonna have to come save little miss from my arms if you wanna win for real," he said. "No such thing as winning by default tonight."

-

Previously fulfilled request: Cold Little Paws.

[seriously-really-soft]

“When your dad makes you cry because he’s a dishonest, two faced piece of poop you would forgive so easily if only he cared enough to see how deeply he has been hurting you but he’s not going to and he’ll probably never change and will continue to put you through increasingly emotionally/physically devastating and insecure situations”

Warnings: abuse, abusive family situation, trauma tw, emotional and physical abuse mention, mentions of sorrow and grief

Sukuna and Toji

Nanami

Nanami is the kind of person that will not tell you things like "you are so strong 😱😱😱" because he knows how invalidating it can be sometimes, he understands that more than anything, little you shouldn't have had to be strong, little you shouldn't have had to prepare themself for the grief that comes with never truly being loved unconditionally by one of your earliest and most intimate relationships. Little you deserved to be a child, you deserved to be protected and cherished, little you didn't deserve to be pushed to adulthood in elementary/middle/high school. He'll hold you and grieve with you over all the things you could've had, you deserved to have, and all the things you feel you may never have.

He does not waste time letting you know that absolutely none of that loss was your fault. Nothing you did ever made you deserving of abuse. Nanami is an honest and straight forward person. For every piece of self blame he reassures you that the abuse says nothing about your value as a person and everything about just how shitty your sperm donor is. You feel guilty that you don't have a family to introduce and welcome him with? You have nothing to be guilty or sorry about, you deserve to be surrounded by people that actually love and cherish you. Furthermore, he wants nothing to do with someone that hurt you so bad. Sometimes you can just look in his eyes and you'll know that he feels angry on your behalf.

He's fantastic at looking after you. If you just need a moment to be coddled in love and to really feel the benefits of good touch, he won't hesitate to give you just that.

Choso

His heart breaks into tiny pieces of crushed star dust after hearing about what you had to go through and just seeing the way it hurts and affects you every day. When he holds you in his embrace, it’s all of him wrapped around you, tucking you to safety within himself, and if you say something along the lines of “I don’t know how to feel safe anymore”??? He’s crying with you, patting your head/stroking your hair, but it’s not ever in a way that is burdensome. You know he’s not asking for you to comfort him. He’s crying with you, with the child you never got to be, with the beautiful person in front of him who has seen and carried too much. It can be super comforting and validating to not be the only one filled with so much grief over your situation. You deserve so much, and he’ll remind you over and over that you never should’ve had to recreate a sense of safety, you deserved to just be safe from the start.

If you still live with your sperm donor, he’s helping you make a plan to escape because there is no way you deserve to live in a situation like that, with so much hurt and so many painful memories all concentrated in one area. There is a certain kind of grief that comes with losing so much of your life to abuse, pain, and depression; if you ever open up about how you’re experiencing and dealing with this grief, he is even more adamant on getting you to safety. If you already have an escape plan, he’s definitely helping you see it through. He’ll help with everything from the planning to the execution. If you’ve gone completely no contact with the dna donor, Choso works together with you to make your home really feel like a safe haven. You’ll fill it up with sweet memories and things that bring you joy, from the furniture to the dishes to the possible pets and plants, there wont be a single square of your home that isn’t filled with love.

He has a major bone to pick with your family, and he gets very protective over you, especially when it comes to this. He assists you to every therapist/doctor appointment if you’re more comfortable with that, and if you want to take up a new hobby or want to pursue your dream job? He 100% supports you healing from this and living the happier, healthier life that you deserve. Not ever will you be a burden to him, he loves you and nothing will ever change that. All the sweetness, all the tender moments, are a constant reminder of how in love with you he is.

a/n: today is a little tough, hence why i’ve been listening to Mitski’s “I don’t smoke” on repeat. I think living in this environment for so long has made me think that no one would be able to truly love me and part of the reason why is because I feel like a burden to anyone that does even the smallest thing for me, like how can someone love me when so much about me is just interwoven trauma? But NO!!! I have to move away from that kind of thinking because my friends, when they say the love me, they see me for more than just what i’ve been through. They love me and see and love all the parts of me I can’t yet see myself. I hope that one day i can grow enough to understand and be able to really see what they see lovable in me. We all deserve to heal and to be loved without conditions, we deserve to know that we are never burdens.

[riverisnotsafe]

Mine.

PAIRING: F!Servant!Reader x Naoya Zenin

WARNINGS: NAOYA ZENIN. Naoya smut. NSFW, Minors DNI. | If you're into any of these: possessive Naoya, breeding kink (?), mentions of overstimulation, jealous Naoya.

A/N: You can call me Noct or River. I’m still fairly new to how tumblr works and how writers and bloggers (?) write their imagines/fics so I do apologize in advance if my writing is not to your liking. I will also post on AO3 under sunflowerpsycho. I'm still trying to improve^^ This was self-indulgent and not edited so pretty all over the place and might be unclear in some parts, sorry bout that.

The reader lowkey a pick me but depends on how you view her, either she's a pick me or she just acts the way she acts to accustom and stroke the lil bitches ego.

“A-ah! Naoya-sama!” you moan his name as he shoots his load deep in you. A few moments of bliss and you were ready to clean yourself. Naoya never liked staying in bed long after sex. He finds it disgusting. All the fluids of sweat, semen and love juices mixed together made his skin crawl. “Oi woman, where are you going?” You haven’t even gotten up but Naoya had you strongly wrapped in his embrace. His cock still deep within you, as if acting as a plug. “I’m gonna wash myself..? You don’t like being dirty like this...usually?” the last bit came out as a question when Naoya buried his head deep into the crevice of your neck. “Ah, I’ll let it pass today. Just stay here. My cum is gonna leak out if you move.” he tried to shove himself deeper, earning an unexpected moan from you. “L-leak out???” Does Naoya have a breeding kink? Is he trying to keep his cum in you???? “N-naoya-sama...are you trying to breed me?” at the mention of breed, you could feel his dick twitch in your core. “Shut up woman.” Ah...so he is and he’s embarrassed to admit. “I feel honoured if that’s what you’re trying to do...” another twitch.

Under that tough misogynistic act, this man is just a boy who thrives on praise, he probably was deprived of any in his childhood, hence the superiority complex. But with you, he’s quite honest. The body doesn’t lie. You were just another servant. He probably paid and slept with many so you never thought of it as anything special. Besides, after all of this dirty work, both of you end up going your separate ways. A servant and the young master. That’s all it is. That is until one of the maids tried stealing from the family, unfortunately from Naoya and he didn’t take it too lightly. A woman and a thief, absolutely the worst. Ever since that, he appointed you as his personal maid, to ensure that only one person will serve him. Only one will enter and exit his quarters. Only one will serve his meals. Only one will tend to him. Only one will follow him around the house. Only one will keep him company when needed. Why did he choose you? Honestly you had no idea. Out of all the servants, clearly you were the least appealing, especially for a man of Naoya’s caliber.

You could never rival the looks of any of the other girls. You were chubby. Your thighs a bit too thick. Your cheeks were puffy. You had no thigh gap. Curves? Well, they weren’t hour-glass curves so you were bedrock bottom ranked. And when it came to family, you were a nobody. All the other servants have been serving the Zenin clan for generations. You were just a nobody who was pulled into the servant life to pay off your parent’s debt. What luck. It took him time though, to make you tend to him sexually. He might have a big ego and any woman would sleep with him but deep down he knew it was only for money and his looks, which he prided on. The sex was always bland. He could care less about the women’s pleasures, he would ejaculate outside, toss them money and demand them to immediately leave. He found them disgusting. Weren’t you just the same?

He had a great face, an even better body and all the riches you could’ve dreamt of, so why has he not tossed you out yet. He for sure can suspect that you’re just the same as all those women, plus, you were even lower, a nobody. Yet, here he is, deep inside you. This has been..about the sixth time you and Naoya have had intercourse. The first three times was when you were just a normal servant. Coincidentally he always found you and forced you to pleasure him. The pay was good so you never complained. After becoming his personal maid, it took a few months to make you fulfil his sexual needs, which is rather strange. A man like knows nothing of consent. He’s a tyrant. What he wants, he can get and he will. So why did he take months to make you fuck him when it was so easy before becoming his personal servant. Who knows? Maybe it was his underlying insecurities asking him to be sure.

“Naoya-sama...may I turn to look at you?” he grunts. “I’ll be sure to avoid any leakage” he nods. You slowly turn your body, still impaled on him. It was a different kind of pleasure but you withheld your moans. Your face are so close. This moment is intimate, for you and him. Almost unreal. He’s gorgeous. That red tint of blush and sex afterglow just added more to his beauty. “Naoya-sama. May I speak more than usual?” “Only because you asked for permission. Proceed.” he avoided looking into your eyes. A shy one. “I appreciate my master’s kindness. Thank you for allowing me to speak. Naoya-sama...please be honest with me. Are you trying to impregnate me? Why? I’m just a lowly servant. I could never be perfect to bear your children, or be a concubine. I have no value. You are too kind. We should stop. I will remove myself now. Thank you for your time master.” You slowly push yourself off him. He grabs your arm harshly, definitely bruising it.

“You said no leakage. And how dare you speak to your master so insolently? How dare you question what holds value to me or not. You are a lowly servant. You’re a filthy no-name bitch. You live to lick my shoes and pick up money I throw on the ground. You are not going anywhere. You are staying on this bed with me in you. You have to be reminded who your master is.” Oooh, you definitely pissed him off. You winced at his words. They were normal, he always told you where your place is so it wasn’t a surprise. “You stupid woman. Now it’s out. You moved and now it’s out.” he sounds disappointed. He was whining like a child. “Naoya-sama!” he plunged into you hard. “Yes, scream my name you stupid bitch.” He went faster and faster. “Don’t cum inside...I’m not worthy master” “Shut your mouth. Worthy? No woman is worthy of me. Selfish. All they care about are themselves. Such an inferior gender thinking what they know is worthy? I decide. I decide your worth.” He changed positions. He pressed both your legs close to your chest. A mating press. He was so deep. The squelching of his previous load acting as lubricant was erotic.

“You. Your lewd body. You were always trying to seduce me. Those luscious thighs. These fat breasts. You were made for child-bearing. The look you make when I fuck you. So in awe, eyes rolling back. Ah. Ah. Sometimes you even forgot payment because you rushed to clean yourself. You were the only memorable one. The sounds you make. You’re erotic. No one else can see or hear you except me. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Naoya drilled you senseless. So desperate to hear you. Desperate to look at your expressions. Desperate to conquer you. “N-naoya-sama! Ah! Ah! Naoya-sama!” You had practically lost any sense and all you could feel was his dick fucking you mercilessly. The veins. The length. The girth. He fit like a glove. He had shaped you to be accustomed to him. “When that no-name clan came yesterday for a meeting. I saw your look. You enjoyed how they all looked at you didn’t you? You slut. You’d want them to fuck you like this right? Only I can though. You smiled and served them. Desperate bitch.” The meeting yesterday?

Your mind wandered. Oh yes, a small clan that are partners with the Zenin in business. The heirs were quite good-looking and well-mannered, how could a lady not feel flattered. You can’t remember if you specifically smiled or enjoyed their small talk. Was being polite not a simple necessity a servant should have towards guests? To ensure their master was not seen as tardy. You can’t remember their names or faces. All you remember was Naoya slipping his hand under your garments and fingering you. “You enjoyed people watching right? Especially since they were good-looking. I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. Disgusting piece of shit.” He got even rougher. You don’t know how many times you’ve orgasmed and how many times Naoya had ejaculated in you but he was still at it. He’s jealous huh.. how strange. A man that could have anything and anyone in the world was strangely possessive of a worthless woman like you. “You can’t show them those expressions. Mine. Your kindness mine. Your sounds. Mine. You’re my servant.” he sounds sad.

Despite being in subspace, you unintentionally reach out to your master and cub his face. “Naoya-sama. I love you.” Those unintentional words made the malicious man slow down his pace. “What did you say?” Is he angry? Oof, all the best dealing with another tantrum. You couldn’t feel anything. Legs sore. Your mind had wandered. The pleasure had made you dumb yet the little consciousness you have for your master remained. “I love you, Naoya.” His cock twitched. “Again” “I love you.” “Again” “I love you, Naoya-sama”. All that repeating made you come to your senses. “I don’t remember the men from yesterday. All I remember were your thick fingers in me. My expressions and mewls were for you. If this body is what you want then I will offer it all to you, my master. Ask, you are my master after all. All of me is yours.” You get up a bit, and stagger, he fucked the life outta ya. “Master, allow me to speak.” a small dumbfounded nod. You slip a hand onto his cheek and kiss him. Both of you never shared a kiss.

It was too intimate for a servant to kiss their master. Only their betrothed would be worthy but you couldn’t help it, you needed to assure this man-child, you were no one else’s. “Master, I-“ “Naoya. When we’re alone call me Naoya.” a small smile crept onto your lips. “Naoya, breed me.” His face was flushed. That’s exactly what he wanted. Through the night, he fucked you in every inch of the room. Both of your fluids and smell, absolutely drenched his quarters. He never once ejaculated outside. Every drip of his semen was in your womb, he wouldn’t even pull out, in fear it would leak. Shower? He fucked you while showering too. His animalistic senses stopped when a knock on the door came.

“Lay down with your back arched. It can’t leak.” He put on a robe and answered. A woman’s voice. “Naoya-sama. Naobito-sama is calling for you.” “Tch. Annoying old man” he slams the door shut. “Oi. Arch even more.” He came back to you. “I’m going to put this in you so you don’t spill.” He was holding, A DILDO? This man has a dildo? “N-naoya-sama, t-thats...” “Some servant I had my way with some time ago left it to fuck with me. I kept it not knowing what it was but now the shape looks like it’d plug you up good.” A servant he had his ways with huh. You were just another one right. He seemed to have noticed your train of thought. “Stupid woman. That servant is long gone. And now. You’re mine. No other stupid bitch except you. Stop thinking nonsense. Maybe I’ll remind you a bit more. That old man can wait.” He unrobed and pounced you. You definitely can’t walk for a few days.

“I’ll plug you up and we’ll go see the old man” he sounds, quite joyful. “If you move and leak, I won’t hesitate to fill you up again.” Ah. He’s definitely Naoya Zenin. “Naoya-sama” you smile. “What? You should be grateful that I’ve allowed you to speak so many times since last night.” You can’t help but giggle. A slight blush forms on Naoya’s face. “How dare you laugh at m-“ you pull him in for a kiss. He reluctantly kissed back. “Naoya-sama, I love you.” you smiled. He thrusted into you without warning. “The old man can definitely wait. You filled with my child is more important.” God knows how many times he’d come in your womb without pulling out, there’s no way you’re not pregnant. “Naoya-sama...let’s stop here...I can’t walk properly if we continue, then a different servant will have to serve you.” He was about to argue but held his tongue. “Fine.” He pulled out and slowly shoved the dildo in. Looks like he’d rather have wobbly-legged you than another servant. You can't help but smile. “Go shower and meet me back here. And clean the room after meeting with the old man. The smell...erotic but dreadful. Wash everything.” “Yes my master.” You hurriedly got clothed and rushed to the servant quarters to clean up. You were happy. What a weirdo.

[buttered-toasty]

I find it utterly fascinating that people say things like Jerma is a kpop boy for adhd people or that Jerma event streams are like the superbowl for us. Because they are. I wanna take a moment to talk about this because I think it’s part of a larger thing.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it on here but it is so interesting to me that so many internet creators seem to be neurodivergent, undiagnosed or otherwise. To neurotypicals their art seems to be strange, new, and some sort of spectacle. To nds their art seems to be just the thing we’ve been looking for all along. Adhd people love Jerma because he Gets It. His brain works similarly to ours in a way that an nt person’s couldn’t. He has similarly weird or out there creative ideas but that’s probably just normal for him. That’s how his brain works. I’m sure other nd people can relate. My personal experience with this is constantly crossing art forms and linking common things between what seem like completely different pieces of media. It’s because both interest me, fundamentally, and because common themes in media, especially about trauma, are another interest of mine.

This creative strangeness is quintessential to the nd artistic experience. I’m sure every one of us at some point has had an nt say “oh that’s weird” in those words or more. And sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. Usually it ends up being good in the long run because regardless of whether or not the fascination is there for mockery, whether or not they are watching us like we’re animals, we start movements. We open new spaces. We do new things. Our wacky quirky silly goofy interests make us want to pursue new forms of art instead of simply climbing to the top of already existing things. The internet has opened up spaces for us in so many ways too. I love this, I love what’s happening with it. For a long time art has been classist and ableist but with the internet that is lessening. People are beginning to realize the value of “odd” creative endeavors at a much more rapid pace than they used to. Art is moving forward and I’m very good directions.

Maybe you think it’s weird that this post had to start with Jerma. I don’t. I think it’s pretty natural actually. He’s a very good example of an nd person that people stop to gawk at but that a lot of nd people just genuinely love. Nd people seem to have taken the joke that he’s utterly insane and run with it because that sort of morbid fascination from nts is relatable to us. But to be honest I don’t believe that the joke started in good faith, though I’m glad it’s landed where it has.

Nd art should be respected and widely enjoyed and loved like this so much more often. I’m glad we have our funnyman whose brain just seems to hit home for a lot of us. And I’m glad he likes to push creative boundaries. He’s definitely not the only one either. I could’ve started this post with game grumps or Markiplier. I chose Jerma because to be entirely honest with you I’m a bit hyperfixated and also, the way he is is how my brain works. Which I think is neat. Like there is someone out there who is definitely Getting It and Understanding the Experience for me.

I think another part of why we like our own in artistic spaces is the whole interest-based neurosystem thing. Since our interests or ideas change pretty frequently we like to see that in media and art. The higher brow art world doesn’t change very fast. It’s slow and it’s full of old vampires who refuse to learn technology or put down their classism. Nd people simply can’t function like that, it’s just not how we work. Part of why Jerma has stayed interesting for so many years without changing the style of his content like some other creators is that, intrinsic to his style, is constant change. Everything feels a little like improv and a little like a delirious fever dream which is exactly what the inside of my poor little unmedicated brain is like. I’m sure other people can relate. It’s not that Jerma has never changed, it’s just that he’s so fucking used to it that we are too. And it’s what keeps things interesting.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. TLDR; respect neurodivergent art more and support these types of creators. They’re a huge part of movements and they especially are now with the internet and new accessibility.

[infernal-fire]

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line. 

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story. 

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often. 

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now. 

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly. 

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging. 

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.” 

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips. 

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around. 

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed. 

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled. 

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood. 

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there. 

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it. 

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you. 

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head. 

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move. 

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this. 

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door. 

At least you knew it was possible to escape now. 

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor. 

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours. 

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself. 

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again. 

“Stop! Don’t!” 

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately. 

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped. 

“Don’t try to escape.” 

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded. 

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars. 

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you. 

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off. 

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin. 

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet. 

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned. 

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again. 

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice. 

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire. 

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running. 

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it. 

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint. 

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises. 

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house. 

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side. 

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm. 

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide. 

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner. 

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes. 

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed. 

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you. 

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase. 

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated. 

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson. 

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to. 

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room. 

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.” 

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs. 

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.” 

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space. 

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you. 

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where. 

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment. 

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.  

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I. 

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position. 

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point. 

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me. 

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated. 

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table. 

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard. 

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language. 

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced. 

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape. 

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused. 

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas. 

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

[ohheyitsokay]

fear

pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x reader

wordcount:2.6k

warnings: allusions to unhealthy views of relationships, angst with a happy ending? mostly fluffy, you guys know me by now

summary: you had always been told that power brought destruction. why wouldn’t you be afraid of the most powerful man you’d ever met? 

>>

“Wait, Mandalorian,” you called, voice trembling - but gratitude was more powerful than fear. He didn’t stop trudging through the outskirts of your little town, steady, as though he hadn’t heard you.

“Please,” you tried again, a touch annoyed that he was making you chase after him, and the warrior mercifully slowed to a stop. He did not turn around, he was not that polite, but his helmet did shift, and that was enough to give you the courage you needed.

You averted your eyes as you placed yourself in front of him, but stared at his knees with determination as you held out your arms, gift light in weight and heavy in value.

“I know you said you would not take extra payment, but you need this, and we will no accept no for an answer.” You had rehearsed the words with every step you’d taken towards his back, but still they came out unsteady.

“No,” he said, and you almost imagined laughter in his voice, but it was not mocking, and it pierced through your hesitation.

Sand ground against his feet as he went to move, and again under yours as you dug in your heels, venturing to look the mask full on.

“Please reconsider – it is a med kit with high quality bacta tools.” You tried to look as confident as you felt.

The Mandalorian's helmet tilted at you again, as he said, “What?”

Finally you had his full attention.

“My family, harvests from destroyed med droids sometimes, to get supplies, and we’ve got a lot of it saved up now.” Resolve was heavy in you, sinking your feet even deeper, willing you to stay in his way. “We owe you a great debt; this is a more honest gratitude than credits.” Something told you that your eyes had found his, through the T of his visor.

“If not for you, then for the little one,” you added, quieter, not that he couldn’t use it himself. After freeing your town more or less by accident, he was covered in scrapes and bruises in between the beskar. This gift was invaluable for bringing him back home in one piece.

Slowly, thoughtfully, he took it, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle. The air was suddenly awkward, and you worried briefly thay you had somehow insulted him.

“Thank you,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, his tone was almost bashful.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling at him, before you remembered to be demure, and you ran off, heart racing.

His gaze might have followed you, if the hairs on the back of your neck were any indication, but you didn’t look back until you ducked into your building. The feeling returned – of meeting his eyes – and then he was turning away and you were alone.

You had your own home, made of smooth clay and filled with repurposed objects and materials. Chairs made from old racing bike seats and a bed full of scraps of fabric. You sunk into your favorite corner – your workbench and table. Piles of broken droid pieces were in a relatively organized pile nearby, and you grabbed one and began gently disassembling it. Soft clinks and the gentle squeaks of metal were music to your ears, even though you didn’t know anything about the mechanics, you loved the process of finding beautiful things in the chaos of wires and washers.

“Your family, huh?” the voice was low and amused, with a touch of something lighter, almost nervous?

The Mandalorian was at your door, curtain pushed aside to make room for his large frame. The grease stains on your hands became incredibly interesting as you shrugged, confused as to why he was here, in your home? Wasn’t he leaving not so long ago?

“I am my own family,” you tried to laugh, the awkwardness from before returning.

“Why are you… is there… do you need…?” you felt flustered, not wanting to offend him but trying to ask what in the world was happening.

“Would you want to come with me?” his words came out quickly, rushed and little too loud. Instinctively, you flinched, before even fully processing his question.

“What?” you looked more towards him, his movements seemed irritated as he looked away.

“I looked at the medkit and I don’t know half of what’s in it. I need some help anyway, with the kid, and,” he gestured noncommittally to the room and you understood.

“Okay,” you said. He was right, this was barely a home. And after all he’d done for the town, the least you could do was help him out for awhile.

For all he was covered head to toe, he still looked startled. But he nodded, curtly and walked back out the door.

You scrambled to shove your own stock of things into a bag and ran after him, feet thumping in the sand, mind racing.

-

Traveling with the Mandalorian was … not what you expected.

When he has first appeared in your town and you had beheld him, with his armor and weapons and swirling cape, you thought to yourself, this man is like a summer storm. Powerful, destructive, and beautiful from a distance. If you got to close you would be overwhelmed with him, his life, and there would be little room for survivors.

You were in awe of him, but afraid.

Apparently, not so afraid as to follow it, but you waited for it to hit you, tear your apart, and leave you in pieces.

You thought it would come on his next outing to find work, as his contact scoffed at your presence, but it didn’t.

Then maybe, it would come after the second mission, when it had come sooner than expected and you’d been there, improvising against his orders trying to keep you all alive. It didn’t then, either.

Long nights were spent, talking quietly, and you would show him how to use the creams and the sprays to heal himself, and you waited. The longer it took, the more sure you were that it was building, behind the armor, and he would grow sick of you, sick of your questions and touches and presence.

It was almost cruel, that you couldn’t find any evidence of it building, somewhere, anywhere. You had been told your whole life that a man like him would hurt you. You had even seen it, time and time again, and the images haunted you. It was unfair that you got all those wonderful moments with him first. Moments when he would get excited and eager and awkward at your kindness, or when he would open up with halting, thoughtful phrases, or when he would prioritize your safety, even over his own. Because how could you have those moments, and still survive when they were inevitably taken from you?

Maybe the waiting was the storm, because it was consuming you.

You found him in the cockpit, hating that you had a chair of your own to sink into.

“I think I should go home,” you whispered, fixing your gaze on the stars. He turned to look at you; you didn’t have to see it to know. The silence was loud and you felt the first tremble in your hands. Maybe asking would be the final straw?

“I don’t understand,” he said, carefully, and you heard the confusion in his voice and to your surprise, a touch of hurt.

“I…” you hadn’t prepared for this part. The words came more honestly than you intended, “I am afraid.”

Once, Din had seen a spaceship torn apart midflight. It cracked open at the same time as it caved in on itself.

That was how he felt, hearing those quite words, out of the mouth of his companion.

His voice was broken in a way that he could not blame on the helmet.

“Of me, cyar'ika?”

You took so long to answer, hope and fear pooled together blending in his chest. It was hard to think, hard to sit side by side suspended in the sky and to think.

“Of what you must be,” finally you admitted. A little more hope dripped in. Din thought he must be almost nothing. Other than his creed, and his role as the little ones buir, he could – would – be anything he wanted.

“What must I be?” he asked, and you seemed frustrated, like it was unfair that he didn’t already know.

“You are a warrior – strong and powerful and…” you swallowed, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “And those who are like that tire of those who are like me. And when you do, it will hurt.”

His gloved hands slid over the plates on his thighs, almost dancing with thought.

“Have I shown you that I tire of you?” he asked, and you had to close your eyes, searching, almost desperately, for a single time that he had.

Your “No,” was barely audible.

“That’s because I have not,” he answered almost as quietly. “I will not.”

The certainty, the fear, built up for years and years of warnings and reminders, was slipping through your fingers, and his hand was filling them. It sent a shock through you, but you didn’t push him away.

Suddenly you realized that you could’ve, that he would have let you – and another shock came.

Even through the glove, his hand was warm, and for the first time you allowed yourself to acknowledge to yourself that it was gentle.

“Are you tired of me?” he asked and the question sunk into your soul. He was the strongest man you’d ever met, capable of destroying everything in his path. He was holding your hand, asking for permission to keep you by his side.

This “No,” was louder, more resolute.

“Then this is your home,” he said, with even more determination. “And I will protect you.”

For the first time, you felt like you were seeing and hearing him clearly, fully. Not as you had been told to, but as he actually was. Even the unsaid words were clear.

The Mandalorian would not hurt you.

It would take time to unlearn, but you took a deep breath, and held onto his hand, and let a little bit of your fear go. It made room for something else, in your heart, something better.

Din felt it too, and his own resolve strengthened. He could show you – those people existed, but he, with you, would not be one of them. Even more than that, he wanted to be your comfort. It would take time, too, but now, at least he had that.

-

He didnt even need to say anything, only shoot you a look, and you knew. Under the helmet his face was surely as panicked as yours, and fast as a blaster shot you were on a bike, child tucked into your chest, racing away.

There had been local festival and you all had been excited after finishing a job, too intoxicated by the easy victory to remember the price it came with. You shouldn've known better - gotten out while you were ahead, but now that didnt matter because sharp, electric objects were flying past your head and wind was whipping in your hair and you were scared.

The Crest was barely within reach, you knew that, unable to stop desperately checking the fuel on the bike. The attacks were slowing and you tore your gaze up to look for Din, willing him to be close. It was getting cooler, both suns dipping towards the horizon and all you wanted to do was get out of range, get to the Crest, all safe.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, and before you registered that it wasn't warm and inviting, you were face to mask with someone as covered as the a man you wanted, but who was far, far worse.

Everything was a blur. There was sharp pain on your back and your thighs tensed, gripping the bike and the child and shooting your blaster for all you were worth. The ship was in sight, and then you were on it, and the door was closing and you hadn't been sure you were breathing but you couldnt start yet because it wasnt over.

Pain was radiating from your back and there was boom and bangs of fists and weapons on the shell of the ship and most importantly, Din was not back yet.

You blindly slapped a healing patch onto yourself before lowering yourself into the darkest corner of the ship, the child still close to your pounding heart. Your tried to focus on the sounds of the machines around you, tried to remind yourself that you had healing tools in case... in case he needed them. The thing about safe spaces is that they never overlapped with the ones that let you see what was going on, which only amplified your terror.

Maker, you didnt know why you were so scared but when you heard familiar footsteps and shining beskar came into view, the relief you felt was overwhelming. You breathed again.

It felt like there should have been a light show or a musical fanfare, how free you suddenly felt, it was a new and bizarre sensation but nothing... happened.

And then you realized.

"You are okay," he breathed, almost disbelieving, as the two of you stood, soaking in each other's miraculously living presence. There was a tightness to his posture, stress visible in his frame.

His breathing was ragged, cracking through the helmet, but he turned and out of habit you both moved away, remembering the danger just outside.

Your mind was racing as your forced yourself to set up everything properly, make sure the child was safely tucked away and the ship was secure and ready to fly. Feeling liftoff sent another wave of relief and shock through you, and your feet carried you up, up and around to the cockpit to find Din. By the time you reached him, the Crest was sailing through the stars, and the air in the cockpit matched that of before. Your hands had found the medkit you'd given him, all those months ago, updated by you regularly, and you held it out to him, almost in a trance.

Din took it before setting it aside, and turning to you. His arms opened, feeling suddenly vulnerable, in an action he'd never really done before.

You took his offer without hesitation, sinking into his arms, ignoring the rough edges of the beskar. It was one thing, to see him be gentle when it was a quiet night, and another entirely when intensity and his own fear and anger had been running high. It gave you the final note of bravery you needed to profess your realization.

"You make me feel safe, Din," you whispered into the cloth around his neck. One of his hands found the patch you'd put on, fingers barely tracing its edges.

"I do?" If possible, his voice was even more ragged than before.

You nodded, knowing he would feel it, and unable to say more.

After long, exposed moments, there was a shift and you both moved to sit in your respective chairs, not fully able to look at each other just yet. You wondered if his face felt as warm as yours did, or if he could feel the ghost of the shape of you, as his lingered on your skin.

The silence was comfortable, but still he asked, "Are you still afraid?" And you pondered the question, reflecting on all the little moments you had waited for the hurt to come, and it hadn't. The moments he protected you from them, as he had today.

"Less and less," you said eventually, relishing the honesty on your tongue.

Din reached over and took your hand again.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[yoonpobs]

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

[tatestripedsweater]

Red Wedding

Plot: After a wedding ceremony it is customary for the couple to consummate their marriage, the time soon comes for both you and James to do just that.

Request: Loosing your virginity to James (Fem!Reader) - Anon

Wordcount: 3.7K

Warnings: Sexual Intercourse, Impregnation, Spanking, Dirty Talk (Slightly out of character for him), Killing/Death, Mentions of Old Fashioned Values (A woman knowing their place/obeying their husband)

Key:

Bold Italics - Flashbacks

A/N: This took me three days to write, requests may take longer as I’m trying to be as detailed as this one shot. Let me know if you like the longer pieces of writing or not!

AHS Taglist: @tatesimper @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @darlingkitt @mrs-march-ahs @kitwalker02 @satanscomplex @mossybank @cleanup-aisle5​ 

August 1926

You were completely stunned by the décor of the hotel, it was absolutely breath-taking. Whoever had designed it must’ve been a genius.

Standing in a room filled with other rich people of California and workers that helped bring The Cortez to life. You couldn’t help but feel out of place, you were only here by chance. Your father had been a builder on the hotel, so it was conventional that James had the workers invite their families. It would mean they would gossip to their friends about The Cortez, which in turn would bring more guests. The more people that stayed in this hotel the more fuel James had for his... hobby.

As soon as James popped the champagne, it goes on the floor as well as his face as he tried to catch the alcoholic substance in his mouth. James’ eyes met your own. The champagne bottle was soon forgotten and passed to someone James couldn’t even be bothered to look at, all that mattered in this moment in time was you.

“I don’t believe we’ve met dear, James Patrick March.” There was a sense of pride as he introduced himself once he had walked over to you. Before you could even respond, James had taken your hand in his own and placed his lips upon the soft skin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss...?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” He kissed your hand once more before letting go, looking up at you with a warm smile. It felt like the whole world was going in slow motion as you looked back up into James’ eyes. He was breathtaking.

“A beautiful name dear for a beautiful woman.”  You felt yourself go hot at the compliment, just his words made your body heat up. “Would you like a tour of the hotel from the very man who designed it?”

You remembered your mother’s words ringing inside your head once that question left his lips. Never delve into the company of a man alone unless it’s your father. What harm could come out of this? A hand hold? A kiss on the cheek? Both options seemed harmless to you.

“I would love too.” A smile graced James’ lips before he offered you his arm. Wrapping your own around his, James led you out the crowded room before your father even got the chance to stop the two of you. It’s not like he would’ve anyway, the paycheque he was getting from James was enough to stop him in his tracks.

“You know dear, I have seen such beautiful décor in my lifetime; some even displayed in my hotel. But non are as beautiful as yourself.” You weren’t expecting such a compliment, but you felt yourself go hot again due to how bashful he was making you. “I do hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable Y/N.”

“No, not at all.” You quickly dismissed what James was thinking, the last thing you wanted to do was offend this man beside you. If you played your cards right, then you would be Mrs March within a few months. “I’m just not used to the attention of males is all…”

“Well, that’s hard to believe.” James chuckled; he couldn’t believe that men weren’t lining up at your house asking for your hand in marriage. You were every mans dream, you were his dream woman. With the small amount of time the two of you had spend together, James had already fallen head over heels with you. He intended on making you his. Even if he had to kill to get you. “How about dinner this evening? Just the two of us?”

A dinner? With him? Just walking around his hotel was enough to have you feeling all hot and bothered, god only knows what effect a dinner date with James would have on you.

“When would the dinner take place?” It wasn’t a direct ‘yes’, but it was enough to let James know that you were interested in his offer. You hoped it would be sometime tonight due to you staying in the hotel; just while your father and the other workmen could indulge themselves within the confines off the hotel.

“This evening? 6pm?” A smile landed on your face before you nodded in agreement at the arranged time, had you finally met the one? Only time will tell.

October 1926

You and James had only known one another for two months but it felt like a lifetime. But here you stood, in front of the mirror wearing your wedding dress along with the train trailing behind you.

He had decided on a private wedding at the hotel much to your parent’s dislike, James didn’t wish to have either of them there as all he wanted was to focus on you in the moment. The only other person at the ceremony was the priest that was going to wed the both of you, James wasn’t that pleased in having a religious man within the confines off his hotel either. But once he has pronounced you both married, he wouldn’t be alive for much longer anyway.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you could hear the chime of the music start to signal your arrival. James had hired an organ player for the occasion despite you saying he didn’t need too; he couldn’t have you walking down the isle to absolute silence. Everything had to be perfect. The only thing that was missing was having your father to walk you down the aisle, but you didn’t dare argue with James about them coming. It was a woman’s place to obey her husbands wishes. Even if you disagreed with them.

The moment you stepped foot into eye view of James at the bottom of the isle was the moment his heart grew ten times the size it already was. He never thought he would find love, not like this anyway. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more ravishing.” James looked you up and down as you walked down the aisle, he finally spoke those words once you were stood across from him at the altar. The two off you had decided on writing your own vows instead off going for the traditional ones given by the church, James didn’t think they were good enough and frankly he despised them.

The priest looked between the off you to signal you two to take your vows, James’ warm hands took your own in his hands before speaking. You could’ve sworn you saw them turn glassy but decided against asking him if he was okay. Not wanting to interrupt what he had been planning to say.

“My darling, from the moment I first saw you I knew you were the woman I wanted to make mine. I will cherish every moment we have together up until my last breath, here’s to us and many memories together.” You had to take a deep breath to stop yourself from crying, you still couldn’t believe this was the man you were marrying. It was like a dream come true.

The eyes off your soon to be husband and priest were now on you, it was your turn to speak your vows. You had them memorised from the moment you had wrote them in your small notebook, James could sense your nerves as you felt his fingers stroke your hands to help relax you some. It worked.

“I didn’t know what love was until I met you, I thought I did but that was only a little girl’s fantasy of what I thought love actually meant. You make me feel alive, you’ve shown me I’m capable of doing things I never thought I would be able to do. You make me strong.” James understood what those vows meant even if the priest had a confused expression upon his face, once the two off you had exchanged rings and you were announced as husband and wife your dress had changed colour from a white to a bright red.

James’ clothes were covered in the blood of the woman who was now on the floor, her so desperately trying to crawl away. Her pathetic mewls for help had him roll his eyes, no one was going to hear her. The walls were filled with asbestos to stop anyone from hearing his victims from crying out for help.

“You might as well give up; it will be easier for both off us.” James’ foot landed on the small of the woman’s back to push her back down onto the floor, it having caused her more pain due to the open wound on her stomach. “You will be a corpse within five minutes, maybe less if you carry on.”

The woman on the floor almost gave up any hope off ever getting out of this place alive, this was it. Her life flashing before her own eyes. But just as she went to give into death and lay helpless on the floor, her eyes lit up when she saw two new pairs off feet in front of her. Red heels.

All the colour drained from James’ face when he saw you stood before him, he was expecting you to run or even call for help like the helpless woman was doing below him. Just as he tried to make up some excuse or have you see things it from his point of view, your heel dug itself into the skin off her cheek as you pushed her face into the carpet.

“We had dinner reservations an hour ago.” The anger in your voice was present to which bubbled fear into James’ body. You weren’t angry at the fact you had caught James in the act off taking another life, it was the factor that he had missed the dinner you two had planned for tonight which ignited you with fury. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“Exhilarating isn’t it darling?” James had taken your hand in his own as he had forced you to grip the knife that was in his cane, it now being plunged into the priest’s neck as he started to bleed out onto the hotel floor. The staff within the hotel (not including Hazel) along with the guests had been forced out of the building on this day, the wedding was a private affair.

“You taking my purity away in my blood-soaked wedding dress would be even more exhilarating, no?” A growl left your husbands mouth once that left your lips, looking you up and down as you were covered in the man’s blood. James’ cock started to harden at the very thought of all the things he wanted to do to you.

“You always find new ways to surprise me dearest.” A giggle left your lips as James lifted you up bridal style, the body and blood would soon be forgotten and cleaned so he didn’t need to worry about anyone finding it. The hotel doors were locked from the inside so no one would be able to get inside anyway. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you after that little show.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me, I like the pain.” This was one of many reasons why James had wanted to marry you, no woman in all of his life was like you. It was as if you were a figment of his imagination, you were perfection.

 As soon as he stepped foot inside the room the both of you shared, James had you pushed down onto the bed. You bent over it to expose your rear to him, his hands gripped onto your ass as he hiked up your dress. James moulded your ass cheeks into the palms of his hands. The blood smearing on your skin, you were his canvas and the blood the paint.

“Do you realise how beautiful you are darling? You’re a work of art.” Before you could even respond to James’ compliment, his hand swatted your left ass cheek as he moulded the other. “And you’re all mine!” The growl that erupted from his chest was enough to send shivers down your spine, you knew what he was capable off. He could snap you like a twig if he really wanted too.

“I’ll always be yours. Always.” A satisfied expression fell onto James’ face, there was no backing out of this now. You were always going to be his in life and in death; neither of you knew that part though yet.

“Tell me what you want.” A squeal came from you once he had spanked your ass cheek once again, it being much harder than the last. Your skin was starting to heat up against James’ hands the more he spanked you, your hands were gripping onto the bed sheets tightly in reaction to what he was doing to you.

“I-I want you inside me.” Your voice was stuttering, not only from nerves but from the pleasure he was making you feel. If James could make you feel so good without even fucking you, then you were going to be a mess when he was inside your cunt. “I want your baby…”

Your head was soon pulled up by your hair, James almost not having believed what you had told him. While his hand kept a hard grip onto your hair to keep you in place, you felt his other hand leave your ass cheek and delve between your legs.

“You want my baby hmm?” James’ fingers ran over your clothed cunt, he could feel how wet you were from just rubbing up and down your slit. “You want my cum inside you? Filling you up until you can’t take anymore?” His fingers continued to toy with your slit as he spoke, wetness seeping through your underwear as he did so.

“Yes! I want all off that James.” A dark chuckle could be heard from behind you, he was taking great pleasure in seeing you like this. So submissive. “I want all off you.”

Smirking, James moved the cotton off your underwear aside. He could feel how aroused you were from his small touches; James moved his finger over your clit and the sensation had a whimper fall from your lips. Adding pressure to your clit as he rubbed it just the way you liked it, he felt himself grow harder at the noises you were making. You sounded like a goddess that needed to be ravished.

“You’re so sensitive darling.” James could tell from just the way you were writhing underneath him that you were enjoying yourself, you had never been touched like this before so a sensation such as this one was new to you. “Just wait till my cock is inside you, I’ll have you screaming till you can’t take anymore.”

You haven’t ever heard him speak to you in such a way, just the way the words flowed out of his mouth with ease had you completely submit to him. It was clear that James was enjoying having this hold on you, you were his wife now. His lover.

“Now this may hurt a little dear.” Your eyebrows were furrowed until you felt him slip his forefinger inside you, it wasn’t so much the pain it was the feeling off being filled with his finger that caught you off guard. Your mind started to race with the thoughts of what his cock would feel like filling you up, your soft moan didn’t go unnoticed by James as your thoughts mixed with his finger inside you had you feeling like a whore in church. “The fun has barely begun and you’re already acting like a harlot.”

James’ finger was thrusting into you and the more he pleasured you the bigger mess you started to make on the bed, you may not have been with him for long, but you certainly knew that he didn’t like messes. The damp sheets between your legs caught James’ attention, with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk he filled you up even more.

A gasp fell from your lips as his middle finger met his forefinger inside your cunt, James would have you clean this mess afterwards but right now he wanted you to be in as much pleasure as possible. Your arousal had coated his hand as he continued toying with your tight hole, James’ fingers had met your g spot as soon as he curled them up. He knew this since as soon as his fingers stroked against it, you were a whimpering wet mess of a woman.

“J-James.” Your voice cracked as soon as his name left your mouth, your hands gripping onto the bedsheets with every ounce of strength you had. James’ fingers started to thrust faster into you as soon as he noticed the state you were in, your ass shaking with the speed his fingers were going.

You could feel the fire pooling in your lower stomach, and you could tell that your orgasm was soon approaching. James had to hold himself back from cumming in his own trousers as the sight off you was enough to have his cock struggle against the tight confines off his slacks. A mixture of curse words and James’ name had started to come out of your mouth along with your legs trembling against his hand.

“That’s it darling, let go for me. Fall apart.” The hunger in James’ voice was what had tipped you over the edge, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers as you came. You almost felt like you were in heaven, that the whole world had slowed down and the only thing that mattered in that moment was your orgasm. You couldn’t help but whine at the loss off contact when James had removed his fingers from your cunt, you had to squeeze your thighs together to try and get some sort of friction. “You’ve just orgasmed darling, and you already want more?”

The truth was you wanted everything he was willing to give to you, you wanted to feel every inch of James. The sound of his slacks dropping to the floor along with his briefs, James’ cock sprung out and up against his chests. The pre cum was already dripping down his shaft, the veins making it evident with just how aroused and hard he was.

The warmness of his hands gripped onto your hips; you could feel his wedding ring against your skin which only made you more bashful than you already were. This was it. The moment every woman in their lives waited for, you felt James run his cock over your slit. Teasing your hold with a dark chuckle escaping his chest.

“Deep breath darling.” James advised you, just as you took in some air into your lungs you felt them get pushed back out again as soon as James thrusted his cock inside your cunt. It wasn’t as painful as you had heard from your friends, it was similar to having his fingers inside you, yet it felt fuller. “Oh, that’s it, take every inch dear.”

James could see a hint off blood on his cock from where he had stretched out your hymen, you were a woman now. Half room shaped marks formed on your hips as he gripped onto you much harder, his thrusts weren’t as animalistic as you thought they would’ve been. Instead, James kept them hard but slow for the first few thrusts, then as time started to go on things took a turn.

The bed started to shake underneath you as James quickened his thrusts as he felt your cunt stretch around him, grunts could be heard coming from James as moans had come from you. The noises in the room were only the pleasures sounds off the two of you along with his skin slapping against your own.

James’ mind went back to what you had said earlier on, about you wanting to give him a baby. Just the very thought of you giving him an heir to pass this hotel down too made him growl, he was starting to turn into a wild animal the more he thought about your stomach swelling all because of his seed.

One of his hands moved from your hips and into your hair, pulling your head up so you couldn’t muffle the noises you were making. Part of James wished he didn’t make it a private event; he wanted his guests to hear who was making you feel this good but alas the only people in this hotel were you two along with Hazel; who was cleaning the bloody mess from earlier on.

The sweat started to form on your skin along with James’ the faster he thrusted inside your cunt; his name was falling from your lips like a mantra. James started to lose his rhythm with how close his own orgasm was, but he wasn’t going to be the one to cum first. That was going to be you.

“James I can’t hold it for much longer.” The way your voice cracked yet again forced a chuckle out of his mouth, he was concentrating so much on not releasing into you first that he was as soon broke out of his own thoughts the moment you starting crying out his name.

With your cunt tightening around his cock as you let your orgasm wave over your entire body, James’ hips stilled and jittered before finally filling you up with what you had been craving from the moment you had bent over the bed. Leaning his head back in pure bliss, James’ orgasm had your name pour out of his lips as his cum started to run down your cunt. Well, with what didn’t already go inside you.

“Oh darling…” The both of you were panting, completely taking in what had just happened. As James looked down, he couldn’t help but smirk as the blood had completely set into your dress and skin, the stickiness of the substance now all over his hands as well as your ass and thighs. “Have I told you how much I love you Y/N?”

“You tell me every day; you better carry on doing it until the end of our lives.” The both of you couldn’t help but laugh softly at your words, your head still being hazy from the orgasms he has given you.

What the two of you didn’t realise was that even in death. He was still going to tell you how much he adored you.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.” You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier��s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.