#idk anymore hashtags

[swugflower]

Hey people that are into mending / can mend.

I have two store bought (knitted) cardigans and they are a couple years old, but I still like them, but their elbows are all worn out and fucked up.

Does anyone have any ideas how to fix it?

I’d be down for visible mending with some heart patches or something but also invisible. I just don’t know how and have no idea where and how to start.

I can embroider, I can crochet, can hand sew well enough and when push comes to shove I could knit if needed.

I’d be very happy for suggestions or Smth thankssssss

[siddyyyyyyyy]

University Romance

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish x female!Reader

Wc: ~2 K ; part two

warnings: being kind of stressed out, 'crazy' chemistry professor Soap, no y/n used, Johnny and Reader are about the same age, the name of the university is fictional

summary: You and Johnny are two professors at a university, and he often catches you working late in your office. Also, you're just really good friends and there's probably more to it.

a/n: I don't know how I got that in my head, it's a quick drabble, but I hope I could get my idea across, even if my first language isn't english. Have fun!

Redcrest High Academy, Monday 11:21 PM

Work is fun. At least for you, and that's also what you're trying to tell yourself every time you have to stay in late. It's a pretty social workplace, getting to meet rather famous professors but also some pretty edgy students. Fortunately, you don't have to deal with the edgy kind of students since you're only a history professor. And also take part in some psychology lectures, where most of the edgy students are. Very unfortunate.

This time, it's the grading that keeps you up at work for longer than usual. Inside your office, it's no one but you and those paperlong paragraphs your students wrote about a current topic you are discussing from the previous lectures. It is already dark outside, but the small lamp on your table is working, casting a warm light onto the papers in front of you. The big light is on as well, but it never quite reaches your desk, so the small lamp is a good help.

You are about to put the grade on the essay when you hear a knock at your door, humming absentmindedly for them to come in while being focused on calculating the grade in your calculator again. Of course, it's no other than Johnny, or as his students call him, Soap, for always having crystal clear objects for experiments, having been caught cleaning those in breaks as well. He walks in and steps up to your desk, hands in pockets and studying the big pile of papers, before his eyes land on the essay in front of you. He understands quickly, nodding to himself before he clears his throat shortly to catch your attention.

»Grading, huh? At this hour?«

He questions and takes a look at his watch with an exaggerated arm motion before he puts his hand back into the pocket. You finally manage to write the grade down with some feedback on the side before glancing up to him.

»What?« You put your glasses down and check on the digital clock next to your lamp, realising it's about time you usually go to sleep normally. Johnny tilts his head at your question, a hint of concern crossing his features.

»How many essays did you grade today? Ten, twenty?«

»Eleven.«

He rolls his eyes and takes a seat at the chair in front of your desk, crossing his arms as he leans back. »You're aware it's eleven PM now, right? Lectures ended four hours ago.«

You nod in response, having had your last lecture around that time. Unfortunately for you, he is just as work consumed as you, which means he often catches you staying late or napping at your office.

»I know, I was about to pack my stuff anyway.«

He watches you in disbelief, sighing out dramatically.

»No, you weren't. Didn't even notice me come in, hypnotised by those papers.«

Johnny scoffs lightly and gestures to the essays, now being two piles of graded and ungraded work.

»I get it, you like your job, and that's great, but... c'mon, not even I am as determined as you.«

He shrugs lightly and shifts on his seat to lean back further, seemingly tired from today. You shake your head and stand off your chair, smoothing out the papers before groaning lightly from your lower back pain. As always, you stretch your arms and crack your back, the sounds of joints and bones cracking being soft but loud enough to make Johnny grimace slightly.

»Yeah, you need a break.« He nods to himself, making you huff out amused.

»Listen, I don't need you telling me what to do. I know when to take a break.«

He shakes his head at your words, disagreeing and ready to talk your ears off about the importance of rest. Before he could start, you put your hand up in the air, looking to him finally.

»And now that you're here, I'm going to pack my stuff and get outta here. And you won't say another word.«

Johnny almost interrupts you and wants to say something again before he settles on watching you while he stays in his seat. It's silent, the only sounds being the light ruffles of paper as you organise them and put them back in your bag. The glasses you left on the desk earlier are being put back on the bridge of your nose, slinging your bag around your shoulder finally. He finally speaks up, staying seated as he watches you for now.

»You're lucky I was still here, building up the experiments for tomorrow.«

You don't believe him, giving him a side long glance.

»More like cleaning those weird bowls and glasses of yours.« He's not too amused at your light jab, getting off the chair while gesturing to himself.

»I am just doing my job properly. Don't want my students to get hurt from dirty-«

»What were those loud sounds from this morning, by the way? Did you try to set this place up?«

He perks up at your question, even though you interrupted him just now. Johnny has a big grin on his face now as he gets to explain it to you, walking around your desk while he does so. You listen to him explain in full detail why he decided to do such an experiment and how he set it up, telling you how his students made the small bombs he told them to construct. It led to having built colourful mini-bombs that they just had to set off in the lecture hall. The ceiling is high enough anyway.

Johnny and some other students had some blue and yellow sticking on their clothes and faces, but it was fun, and his students know how to build mini bombs now.

»You don't think it was risky to teach them how to build literal bombs?« That's your only question you have for him now, as everything else doesn't surprise you anymore.

»No. They're studying chemistry; they would have it figured out sooner or later.« He reasons casually, which makes you agree somewhat quietly.

----

Redcrest High Academy, Tuesday 8:13 AM

You're thankful to Johnny for baically forcing you to stop working the night before, because you can already feel how tired and sore your body is after sitting and grading for so long. The lecture hall is mostly quiet as usual, something most teachers in schools would kill for, but in your case it's making you almost frustrated. Why are your students always so quiet during lectures? Do they fear you? Before you could worry any longer about them, a hand goes up from a student, seemingly wanting to ask something. »Have you graded our assignments yet, miss-« »No.«

Okay, maybe it's no wonder your students are mostly silent during your lecture, but being all bubbly and social like your favourite colleague is not easy. And forcing yourself to be more social and funny with your students will only earn you some weird or confused stares. A loud, sudden sound goes off, similar to a small explosion, making everyone jump up and look around for a moment. You hold your hand up and sigh out wearily. »It's probably Professor McTavish again. Calm down.« Not a second later and said Professor is peeking into your lecture hall with a worried expression, his lab coat seemingly less clean, him having a rather dishevelled look. »Your fire alarms didn't go off, right? Don't worry, we already put the fire out. Just checking in.«

He can't be serious.

He clicks the door shut, and the hall is silent for a brief moment before some chuckles and laughs errupt, making you smile slightly as well. You're making a mental note to ask what he was doing with his class again before focussing back on the task at hand. With that quick disturbance, the lecture continues as before.

Once lunch break begins, it's your mission to find Johnny and talk to him about the earlier disturbance. It's certainly not hard to find him; walking into his lecture hall makes it a quick find as you see him cleaning the tables and the other stuff the chemics have around. »Weak arson attempt or another experiment?« He gets surprised by your voice and presence, turning around to face you. He grows sheepish for a moment before chuckling lightly at your question. »I guess one of my students needs to study a bit more. He never gets to set up another experiment alone again.«

You are sure, you could hear some light tension in his voice while he continues to clean and scrub around. Maybe he is just focused on cleaning so much, making him seem a bit tense. In all honesty, he rarely gets mad at his students or scolds them, but it's evident this particular student had to endure some of his strict words after class. »Hm... well, at least my students got a kick out of it.«

He barks out a laugh at your words, pausing on his cleaning for a moment. »I'm sure they did. But my students were afraid for their lives there.«

This makes you shake your head subtly at how serious that sounds. But it's nothing new, just another tuesday at work. After a few more words, you retreat from the room and get to continue your own work, the day going by quickly. ----

Redcrest High Academy, Wednesday 8:43 AM

Another work day, another chaotic day for the chemistry students. The class is lively inside, talking to classmates, making jokes, and telling stories to one another before their professor walks in. It gets more calm once Professor McTavish walks in, most being curious about what they will do in this lecture. He seems to be in a good mood today, as usual, standing by the whiteboard as he explains today's lesson and shows them some diagrams over the projector.

The atmosphere is more light and exciting, the students having their first semester and enjoying themselves, not needing to face the horrors of writing essays or doing research at home for the class yet. A particular student holds his hand up, him already having the nickname 'boom box' from Johnny for being louder and more extroverted than the other students.

»Are you and the history professor something?« Johnny pauses at the question, not having expected such a question. He blinks and looks rather caught off guard by the question, making some students chuckle. »Don't get me wrong, you just seem like a married couple. You're always together and stuff.« Johnny has to literally restrain himself from thinking about you both being potentially something more than friends, acting as neutral as possible in front of his students. He gathers himself quickly, shaking his head as he holds one hand up slightly. »This is chemistry class, no? We have no time to discuss something like this.«

This earns some classic booing from his students, making him roll his eyes while he just tries to get back to the lesson and also teach them about minding their own business.

----

Redcrest High Academy, Wednesday 9:00 AM

You enter his office with two coffees in hand, each for the two of you, as you find him leaned over his desk with his back to you, looking like he is contemplating something really hard. The sight isn't new as you're walking up to him and place one cup at his desk beside him. He acknowledges it with a small nod and finally notices who you are, turning his whole body to face you.

»Did you know my students think we're married?« Silence follows afterwards, blinking at him while he takes a loud sip from his coffee. »Wow, straight to the point, huh?«

He doesn't match your sarcastic energy or finds it funny, staying serious as he stands in front of you.

»They thought we were married.« He repeats, making you narrow your eyes at him before realisation hits.

This is gonna reach the other colleagues in no time.

a/n: Wow, cliffhanger, oh my god, no one has done this before!!! Let me know what you think about this, I'm not sure if I will continue writing about this silly guy kachow

[sidmakestuff]

Fast Track

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You see him on the train on your daily commute. You secretly pine. and pine. and pine...and pine. Day after day. And then you finally get a chance to talk to him.  Warnings: Angst w/happy ending, hurt/comfort, use of y/n, very insecure and soft bucky, reader using petnames slightly excessively, swearing, some references to sex, mdni!

Hope you enjoy :) Leave me some feedback pls and thx xx

You took the B train every Monday through Friday at seven in the morning. You got off at the seventh stop every Monday through Friday at seven thirty in the morning. You smiled politely at the muscular stranger who shared your stop at seven thirty in the morning. Even though he never really smiled back, only sometimes gracing you with a slight nod of his head.

You talked to everyone on the train. It started as a nervous habit. Nerves were easily appeased once you complimented a stranger and their tight-lips transformed into a glowing smile at the flattery. It was always genuine; you never made up a compliment. It wasn’t that hard to find at least one nice thing about someone, and it was worth it to be able to fall into conversation with them over constant conversation with yourself and your mind that was usually trying to convince you that you were always out of place. 

Over the years, you knew every face on the seven am B train. You knew their lives, what they did, who they loved, and sometimes even made some kind friends in your neighborhood.

You knew everyone from Mr Delmar, who always watched out for you, to Peter Parker, who was always far too bruised up for a high school kid, to the humblest of men, Steve Rogers, who grew to love you as a kind soul with the remarkable ability to put themselves in anyone’s shoes and imagine quite accurately how they must feel, a compassion you extended even to him, something you said was not difficult at all, which Steve found hard to believe. But, chip by chip, you aided him in changing how he viewed himself. People did not deserve to see themselves any less than they were, least of all Steve Rogers, you told him.

Yet, of course, there had to be one remaining obstacle, one last stranger you never got to know. He didn’t really intimidate you, though you got the impression that that was his intent. You supposed, as a woman taking the New York subway, you should be wary of a tall, muscular man, dressed in dark clothing. You weren’t to be mistaken for a foolish woman. You carried around a taser the size of your forearm and pepper spray was always hardly a second out of grasp. You looked for an exit to every room you walked in. You worked for S.H.I.E.L.D for fuck’s sake. Even if you were just an engineer, you had taken self defense classes since your first day of work. Caution was in your blood at this point. 

This man should have set off every red flag, and still, there was something endearing about his slightly crooked walk, his uneven shoulders and long strides. His stubble grew in all different directions as if no one taught him to shave. There was some constant uncertainty in his certain gaze. There was something remarkable at how human he was with his little ear buds and his strangely gloved hands. You wondered what he listened to every morning. You could only guess and those guesses ran from the Beatles to Motley Crue. 

But then there were his eyes. Lighter eye shades usually came off more deceptive; you favored coffee colored irises like Peter’s–coupled with his childlike wonder and affliction for trouble, it made you relax around him immediately. But this man’s eyes, despite being a striking cerulean, were much, much too soft for a dangerous man. There was something so utterly tender about him that had you catching your breath far more often than you’d like. 

It’s also what stopped you from exchanging words with him, fear that those eyes would turn on you in anger, something you didn’t feel that you could bear. An odd weight on your chest for a literal stranger. You chalked it up to social anxiety, though you knew there was more to it. 

Still, it wasn’t for a lack of trying that you still hadn’t gotten to know him. You had wordlessly offered him many a bagel, a donut, a bear claw, a puff pastry, for crying out loud, but he had always politely waved you off, ears red in what you assumed to be annoyance. You felt a little dismissed, like Pooh trying to invite Eeyore to come play, but you knew this was likely how he treated everyone, and eventually gave into being content with knowing the people you knew. You weren’t one for a challenge that made you look stupid. You knew your place. 

You still wondered what he did, though. Your stop was the same, but your routes after were different, yet you swore you saw him around S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters sometimes. 

 It was nearing two years of seeing him on the B train that you found out what he did. You were on your short walk from the cafe near Delmar’s where you got your morning latte, humming softly as you passed alleyway after alleyway. You were almost to the station when you caught sight of a familiar silhouette. On his knees, head in hands, there was your mystery man. No doubt about it, it was him. It was the same kevlar jacket, the same dark wash jeans and steel-toed boots, the same uneven shoulders.

You hesitated, paused beside the alley, facing him. His breaths came far too frequent and far too short, visible in the cold Brooklyn air. This was one of your worst ideas, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him stumble through this, quite awfully you might add. Unfortunately for him, it looked like he didn’t know a single coping mechanism to get through a panic attack. Hell, you doubted he even knew that he was even having a panic attack. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what lay ahead, and approached him. 

He didn’t notice you at first, hands ungloved, revealing that one of them was made of some sort of expensive metal. It looked like it could crush you in a second. You gulped, certain you didn’t want to scare him, and quietly called out, “Hey, there.”

He turned to you in an instant, a hand dropping to his waistline. Oh my god, he was armed, too. What had you gotten yourself into?

You knew that looking scared wouldn’t help, though. You slowly dropped to your knees as well, your worried eyes locked with his terrified ones. 

“Hi, honey,” you began, your lips suddenly feeling dry. 

He was still panicking, one hand on his chest, but he didn’t say a word. 

You tried your best to only focus on what he needed at the moment. You dropped your bag to the ground and put your near empty coffee beside it. 

“It looks like you’re having a panic attack. I think I can help you.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, hands shaking terribly. “Can I give you my hand?” you ask. 

He hesitates, drawing his hand closer to his body, as if his body language could be any more inward. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, love, I promise. I only want to help.” He relaxes slightly at your steady tone. He reached his flesh hand out for you to take. You grab it with both of yours and inch closer to him. You can feel how warm he is, hands slightly sweaty from panic, the pulse in his wrist thundering. 

“These things always end. Know that. It’s going to be over soon,” you reassure, watching as sweat builds on his temple.

His eyes are restless, looking over you and around you, never pausing. “Focus on me, sweetheart. Just look at me. Yes, there you go. Let yourself breathe. You’re going to get through this. I know it’s stupid hard for no reason and you feel helpless, but just trust me when I say you’ll get through this.”

He gave you a curt nod, grateful eyes staying on yours.

“Can you tell me your name, honey?”

He nearly choked, voice shaky as he rasped out, “Bucky.”

Your eyes flashed in recognition. You didn’t want to say anything that might trigger him yet, though, so you softened your features and smiled. “Sweet. That’s a sweet name. I like it.”

Bucky’s breaths were slowly steadying, his pulse decelerating. 

You stayed with him, coaxing him off of the edge and whispering words of encouragement. 

 He was dying. This was it. Some old lady in the coffee shop he frequented saw his metal arm and screamed, calling him a monster and that was it. He left the shop, unable to breathe. He checked his body for bullets, but he couldn’t find any. Bucky was certain his lungs had been shot, though. He’d only ever woken up from nightmares with this feeling. There’s no way this wasn’t real. 

Heart in his throat, Bucky pulled off to a nearby alley and nearly vomited his internal organs. The world was spinning. He didn’t know how he got to his knees with his head in his hands but he was there now, unable to fight off the evil feeling that he would never be normal, never be anything better than HYDRA’s monster.

Tears threatened to breach Bucky’s eyes as he still couldn’t take in a proper breath. He imagined drowning would be a better way to die than this.

He was so caught up in his distress, in the shadows that threatened to pull him under, that he hardly heard your voice, muffled like it was underwater.

Bucky flinched hard, surfacing, immediately reaching for the pistol in his waistband. He had a fleeting thought that put into perspective for him how sick it was that the one technological adjustment he didn’t have to make from his old life to his new life was weaponry. He knew of every one; he had _used _every one.

He took you in, eyes glossing over your overly concerned figure. 

Fucking hell, of course he would lose his shit in front of the woman he had become sweet on from the morning train for two goddamn years. Bucky had no real reason to take the B train. He had initially only taken it for a week when his bike was in the shop, but that week had given him more faith in humanity than anything had in the last decade.

He had noticed you the moment you had walked into the train, eyes taking in every one on the car and greeting near everyone around him. You checked in with a teenage boy’s science project and urged him to apply to an internship where you worked–S.H.I.E.L.D. 

You were warm, and bubbly, unburdened by any horrors, at least not on first look, and you cared so much for every individual you came across. Bucky hoped you didn’t notice him watching you like a creep the entire ride, jaw slack and eyes way too fond for a stranger.

Though he was headed the same way you were, he went the opposite direction at the seventh stop so it didn’t look like he was following you. 

He came back day after day, your blinding smile and kind eyes starting off every one of his mornings until he began to dread the weekends when he couldn’t see you–nights plagued with nightmares and memories of a person he wanted to set himself as far apart from as possible. He didn’t realize how much he had come to depend on seeing your plushy face and hearing your silken voice until nearly two years had already passed. 

You were always too bright of a star for him to accept any of your kindness, however. Sometimes he felt unworthy of even looking at you, a sun in the cold world he lived in. That’s why he always waved off any of your offerings, often without even making eye contact, trying to hold down the flush of his skin from his flustered state.

He never imagined that this is how he would finally meet you.

Oh no. _Oh no, ohnoohnoohno. _This couldn’t be happening. You had definitely seen his hand. There was no hiding it now with his gloves strewn at his feet. Bucky wondered what you thought. He figured it was something along the lines of repulsion. But no part of you looked at him in disgust, only with affection. 

“Hi, honey,” you practically crooned, the pet name making him practically melt into a puddle at your feet. It wasn’t condescending at all, only genuine concern in your voice. You told him he was having a panic attack. Is that what this slow death was? You seemed to know a lot about them. He hoped it wasn’t from personal experience. Shit was miserable.

Then you asked for his hand and he practically threw himself away in the dumpster closeby. He couldn’t imagine why you would offer to touch him. Him, who was the devil in disguise. 

He swallowed thickly, chewing the inside of his cheek, before he gave in. He couldn’t help it. There you were, pleading so tenderly with him to take your hand. How could he refuse? He didn’t know how he ever refused you anything, to be honest. It seemed almost blasphemous.

His lungs wouldn’t stop wailing and the world still wouldn’t stop spinning. You were the only anchor and even then he wasn’t sure of his footing. 

You took his hand in both of his and described exactly how he was feeling, as if you had felt it before. And you were calling him all these sweet things like honey and love and sweetheart and he didn’t know if he could survive it, but this was in a good way, a sort of death he didn’t deserve but was desperate for.

And then you asked his name. Before he knew it, he was saying it, and you were calling it sweet and then he was near choking out a sob, suddenly wishing he knew yours. He already knew he loved it.

It felt like you knew him then, and he knew you. He wondered if you felt it, too.

There was something so intimate about the little bubble you two had created, and all at once you realized just how much you had been craving the presence of this near stranger, the chance to know him. The tension was palpable and there was no true rhyme or reason to it, but it had you on the verge of tears. 

Of course, you knew far more about him now. You knew he was Steve’s best friend way before he was the Winter Soldier and way before he was this–essentially an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You knew things about him that Steve told you, that you weren’t sure if he’d ever tell you himself. You knew he wanted to be a scientist in the 40s, but he saw Sergeant as the best way to help his country at the time. You knew how much he always cared for the little guy, a quality so deeply ingrained in yourself that you immediately adored in him. You knew of his struggles with coming to terms with his past as a HYDRA pawn, and in fact, you had helped engineer the very suit he wore on most assignments. Your fates were considerably more intertwined than you had ever realized. 

Once he had fully come through the panic attack, heart in your throat, you finally admitted. “I’m a friend of Steve’s. Erm, at least, I was,” you corrected. The worst timing. You had no business dumping that on him after what just happened, but something told you you needed to blurt it out. That it would help. 

At that, you heard a deep chuckle. You looked up to see Bucky full out-laughing and the sight had you biting your lip to keep away your own smile. He was so free when he was laughing, all of his teeth were out and his eyes crinkled in a way that drew at your heart-strings. So young. He laughed with his whole chest.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” you said, smiling.

Bucky shook his head, still beaming, “It’s nothing. Well, actually, it means a lot. It’s just funny. It makes perfect sense. Of course, of course, Rogers, you little bastard.”

“What makes sense?” you pushed as he stood up, pulling you up with him. 

He caged you in against the wall, chewing his lip, “It just makes sense that Steve would know exactly what I like.” He was deep red at the admission, but you were still processing, your mind slightly fuzzy from your view, his arms on either side of your head and his face inches from yours. He was going to kiss you. You could almost taste his breath when his eyes widened and he flinched away, realizing. 

Bucky apologized, stepping back, “I’m-I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I’m not a creep, I promise, I’ve just seen you around on the train and I’ve seen the way you talk to the kid and to Delmar and I have to admit I’ve grown a little sweet on ya, but I-I understand if–”

He didn’t get the chance to get through anymore because you had pulled him by his jacket, crashing your lips against his, hands immediately reaching for his hair. 

He gasped in surprise, an mmph! making its way past his lips and into yours, but he quickly recovered, hands dropping to your waist and his lips bruising yours. The kisses were hungry, rushed, Bucky taking your lower lip between his only to bite down on the plump skin softly. 

You whimpered, letting your tongues envelop each other, reaching, longing, craving something more. 

Bucky pulled away, pupils blown, lips swollen red, his face utterly wrecked. You found that you wished he could always look like that, as long as it was because of you. “Wait, wait, wait. I don’t-” He smiled all crooked,, “I don’t even know your name, doll.”

You laughed, trailing your nose against his, “You can call me whatever you want if you keep kissing me like that.”

Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck, whispering against the skin there, “Oh, I plan on it.”

You didn’t know where all of this boldness came from, but you loved it on him. “It’s y/n.”

Bucky hummed, “y/n.” It rolled off of his lips as he tasted it, testing how it felt. He lifted your legs around his waist and pushed you further into the wall. “It’s perfect.”

Your hands roamed across his torso, over the layers of kevlar as he captured your lips with his again. Your breaths were visible as you panted between kisses, both of you flushed a deep red from the cold air. 

He pushed against you at just the right spot, causing the perfect sort of friction and you gasped, before moaning, “_Oh! _Bucky…”

“Shit, say my name like that again, sweetheart, and I’ll take you right here.”

You felt so far from reality then. Your boss would be a little upset but what did it matter? You were on time every day of your life. You had clung to routine for so long out of a need for an anchor from all of the chaos of this world that you had forgotten what it was like to do something spontaneous, to live, to love. While you were nowhere near loving this man, you felt it somehow only a matter of time that you ended up here, with him. He was Steve’s childhood friend. He worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. He took the bloody B train. You were bound to meet him. Something told you that you were meant to act on only your heart now, your heart which Bucky had touched so deeply without you even realizing it. He saw you. He saw your kindness. While you never did any good deed for attention, being seen for it was utterly validating. In this world, constantly making the right decision took a toll, and this was a reminder that it was worth it in the end. The right people would see it. Your choices, however small, did matter. Your empathy was your most prized possession and you would be damned if you’d let go of someone who saw that so clearly from just the morning fucking train.

Cloudy and dazed, you wrapped your legs around Bucky tighter. “Fuck it, what’s stopping you?”

Bucky’s laughed nervously, “Wait, you’re serious?”

You raised a brow, “What? Can’t handle it, Sarg?”

You could tell he liked that as he bit his lip, eyes hooded. “Oh, I think I can handle you, doll.”

You leaned into his ear, whispering, “Prove it.”

He huffed, hand around your neck as he slotted his mouth over yours, once again kissing you dizzy.

Hands tight on your hips and nearly bruising you, he moved his lips to your neck first, and then your collarbone, tongue and teeth working together to work you up so much you weren’t sure he even needed to touch you for you to climax right there. 

You had a moment then. Again, rethinking everything. That was kind of your secret special power, after all. You all of a sudden saw a future. There was something so intimate about every interaction with this man, and while you never judged anyone for jumping into sex with someone, you weren’t sure it was the best way for you to start something that could be important to you, not with you being a flight-risk and constantly anxious. 

You slowed your breath and put your hand on his jaw, thumbing his cheekbone, something you only felt unafraid to do while his eyes were still on your neck. When his eyes met yours, you withdrew, holding your wrist in your other hand, close to your chest. He recognized the lack of surety in your gaze, softly dropping your legs to the ground as you steadied yourself with your hands on the wall behind you. He gave you a second, both of you catching your breaths before he quietly asked, “Everything okay?” 

It still felt as steamy as before, your eyes kept meeting and leaving, your pants visible in the cool air, lips swollen, plump, and a luscious pink, only centimeters away from each other, but there was also a comfortable air of quiet. There were no expectations, only patience. 

You picked at the fabric of your collar, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I just,” you chuckled, “I just realized I kinda want to take you out first, Sarg.” You smiled a little, “Just you know, to make sure you can handle it and all that.” 

Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling as he lifted your chin with his thumb, “You’re gonna make me prove it, doll?”

“If you don’t mind,” you whispered, jutting your chin out even more.

He licked his lips, a sort of excited challenge igniting in his eyes, “Nothing would make me happier.” 

[abimee]

TY STRAWBERRY BREAD FOR THE KOFI DONO!!!! heres your setsuna yuki :----]

[noonthuwu]

Redraw&redesign

2024

2022

[motor-city-selfryed]

i wish i could keep friends, this is such a womp womp for me bro 😕😕

[crushingcasanova]

am I ... normal.

[faceeeeee]

Yoooo I heard my little pony: friendship is magic, is going to have a new season after years of ending!!!!! Featuring this new character as the main antagonist of the first two new episodes!!!! Wonder what it will be his name ngl 👀👀👀

Sorry if you have to see this abomination, I've wanted to draw your funny Robtop design for a few weeks but... idk how to draw him yet so I had to ponify him... plus I have been into a lot of mlp related stuff lately so like

I hope that's okay for you </3 and happy april fools lol! (At least here)

I HAD TO GRAB THE EDGE OF THE TABLE CAUSE I COULDN'T BELIEVE MY EYES HAHEAAHFTYFGRXUDJFYDFH IT'S PERFECT IT'S PERFECT IT'S PERFECT!!!!! Funny that you drew him as a pony cause mlp was one of the main reasons I got into art at all so this is coming full circle for me AND HIM BEING AN ANTAGONIST it makes me want to unironically make a fake screenshot KYRWUKKETFYGE IT'S SO GOOD THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUU this made me kick my feet back and forth and giggle.

I really had to draw pony Rubrub cause how could you not?????

[cca20]

Really quick doodle of Jack Carver

[leopardom]

these have been sitting in my askbox for some hours now and i really didn’t want to bring them here but it looks like someone from the fandom has beef (if i can even call it like that) with me and idk what to do about it anymore

yes i do rant and yes i’m aware that sometimes i’m exaggerating and want validation, but i never have brought my rants into the hashtag. this is the first and the last time i’m doing it because i’m tired. idk what the hell i’ve done so wrong when all i want is to try and exist and connect and share whatever kind of content i can in here, but whatever that is, it seems to bother some people. so whoever you are, if you see this, PLEASE block me and stop bothering me from idk how many different accounts

[great-tusk]

ughhh I need to stop having mental breakdowns over little things.

[transgendercastiel]

does everyone feel alone or is it just me

[noonthuwu]

Mayonnaise meme?

[yaboiferalzzz]

I barely post stuff here but eh WTH. Im opening commissions for the 1st timeee✨️ Kinda want and somewhat need to earn some money now that gift-giving is here so I appreciate if any if yall want or atleast reblog this!

I focus on character art ( Mlp, Welcomehome, Monster high, Homestuck, Moomins, Pokemon, etc.) Mostly doing anthros, chibis, ocs & redesigns. I ESPECIALLY enjoy drawing people's ocs!! I crave to draw more

Heres some art dump. Might make another post about the actual prices if anyone curious

[paul-ster]

Ao3 Curse Got to Me

There’s nothing else I can say. Ao3 author curse has found me. 😢

Actually it got to me last week but that’s another thing.

[mnty-bubblegmyum]

all these thoughts they make no sense I found bliss in ignorance