#it needs to stop fucking around with this stupid fucking shit with the goddamn boxes or whatever why is it so fucking hard to make a goddam

[miserymisume]

hey, do not cry, brain-splitting headache and death metal, okay?

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[chelseypprimrose]

The Boy’s a Liar / bfd!Negan x Reader / no-apocalypse AU 🧟

Warnings: daddy kink, breeding kink, boyfriendsdad!negan, oral (female receiving) use of belt, squirting, swearing, use of degrading names, general Negan ness, voyerism, unprotected sex, reader is a little evil to her boyfriend : NOT PROOFREAD YET

Summary: Reader finds out her boyfriend cheated on her via a Snapchat story, she takes sweet revenge with her boyfriend’s hot as fuck dad.

A/N: I’ve never wrote for breeding kink before so please be kind lol 🤍 I had a lot of fun with this one!

“Fucking waste of my damn time.” You cursed yourself, boys are so stupid. You couldn’t stop watching the Snapchat story of your boyfriend’s best friend, your boyfriend so obviously kissing a woman that wasn’t you. Not a care in the world, disrespecting you and the values you held in a loyal relationship. You didn’t know it this was a common occurrence that you just hadn’t noticed or a drunken one off. Not that it mattered, it was still a betrayal of your trust.

Eyes glossy with tears, you were driving towards your boyfriend’s house that he shared with his father, Negan. You didn’t even have a speech prepared, what you were going to say, if this was the final nail in the coffin of your relationship, your mind was running at a mile a minute.

Pulling into the driveway, you turned off the engine and put your car keys into your handbag, getting out and walking with purpose to the front door, your heels slamming on the concrete floor. You knocked on the door loudly, no answer. You knocked again, your hand shaking with annoyance.

The door finally opened but it wasn’t your boyfriend who stood before you, it was Negan.

“Hey doll, what you doing here so early? I was just making breakfast if you wanted any?” He offered before he took a proper look at your face, noticing the black tears of mascara that ran softly down your face.

“I don’t know what kind of fucked up morals you’ve taught your son, Negan, but I thought you were a better man. Obviously I was wrong.” You said with spite, you were letting your feelings be known to anyone who would listen. It was just unfortunate that it was the wrong person to direct your anger towards.

Technically, Negan hadn’t done anything wrong, but he was guilty by association in your current messed up state. You just needed to vent at someone, and Negan was the closest person to your boyfriend.

“Woah, doll? What’s wrong, what’s he done?” Negan moved aside so you could come in, walking towards the kitchen, the smell of fresh bacon and egg filling your nostrils. You placed your handbag on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, your hand playing with your necklace.

“He went out last night and he kissed a girl, I saw it on his friend’s Snapchat.” You managed to get out through a small sob, your eyes filling up with tears again. You couldn’t believe you were crying like this in front of his dad, you felt embarrassed.

“Jesus Christ, I’m sorry dollface, I didn’t raise the kid to do shit like that, we are loyal to our women.” Negan sighed, his hand running through his salt and pepper beard, trying to find the words to make the pain in your heart go away. His eyes watched you as you grabbed a tissue from the box placed on the dining table, using your front phone camera as a mirror to wipe your tears away.

“You know what though, it might be a blessing in disguise.” Your head whipped around to give him a look of disbelief, in what world could this be a blessing? “What the fuck do you mean, my boyfriend cheated on me? How could that even remotely be a blessing?!” Feeling your anger building up again, Negan walked around to your side of the counter, towering over you, his head coming down to whisper in your ear. “Oh please, Y/N. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me, remember that party a couple months ago, goddamn doll, you couldn’t take your eyes off my dick in them swim shorts.” He gave a small laugh, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear, his eyes watching your chest raise with each breath you took. “You need a real man to take care of you, I heard you with him. I’m experienced enough to know when a woman is faking it to spare a man’s feelings.” Your eyes met with his, how on earth could he tell. You couldn’t even deny it, while your boyfriend was good enough, he was too soft with you, complaining when you’d asked him to just choke you a little bit. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt you, he’d said, your eyes rolling in annoyance.

“How the fuck do you know that?” You asked, his cologne hitting you in the face as he got ever so closer to you. “Like I said doll, I know women. You want to be played with don’t you? You want someone who knows how to please you properly, give into it doll. I could give you all the pleasure you’d ever need.” You let out a soft moan, knowing this was wrong but your petty nature taking over, not only was this such an evil way to get back at him, you longed for Negan. He was right on the nose with how you looked at him, you’d always found him attractive, just trying to stop yourself from jumping his bones whenever the two of you were around each other.

“Fuck it, I’ve always wanted to know what your cock feels like, deep inside me.” You whispered out, your hands wrapping around Negan’s neck as he captured your lips in a kiss. His hands finding their way to your ass, squeezing the round globes hard.

He lifted you up, walking towards the stairs. “I’m going to have you begging for mercy when I’m finished with you doll.”

It was almost animalistic, months of repressed attraction coming to a conclusion. You’d never have even thought about your late night fantasies coming true, until this very moment that they had. Negan kicked the door to his bedroom open, not bothering to close it behind him. Placing you on the bed, his hands grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt to pull it over his head revealing his toned torso and arms, his tattoo that you loved so much coming into view.

Your hands started to feel up on his chest, wanting skin to skin contact with him so desperately. You tried to sit up a little to take your tank top off but Negan stopped you in your tracks, slamming your arms down above your own head. “Don’t you fucking dare doll, that’s my job.” A dark look coming across his face, he ripped the tank top off you hastily. His eyes glued to your bare chest, you hadn’t bothered to put a bra on today, in a sleepy haze just wanting to get over here to question your boyfriend. “Such beautiful breasts doll, he’s going to regret giving you up.” Negan stated as he took one of your erect nipples into his mouth, a soft bite as he did. You moaned out, watching his every move, his eyes locked to yours.

Leaning up, Negan unbuckled your belt sliding it out of your jean loops, grabbing your hands, wrapping the belt around your wrists as your hands were placed back above your head. The leather tight and digging into your skin, only turning you on more, heat rushing to your pussy. Negan took the time to unbutton your jeans, pulling them down your legs revealing your small black thong that left little to the imagination, pulling them to the side, Negan licked a strip starting from your opening to the top, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your boyfriend never took the time to ever focus on your pleasure, either because he couldn’t be bothered or he just didn’t care, you didn’t know.

You felt the extra wetness as Negan spat right on your pussy, bringing his fingers to slowly enter you. Starting at a slow, agonising pace he could feel your body relaxing as you let your body give in to the pleasure you were feeling. You wanted nothing more than to grip onto his hair, but your bound hands didn’t allow it. As he felt you relax, he quickened his pace up, moans leaving your lips loud and clear. “Such beautiful noises for me slut, and I know these are real.” You felt your core tightening as you kept building up wave after wave of pleasure, you’d never even realised you could get so close to orgasm so fast, Negan caught on to this and took his fingers out of you, dripping in your juices. He forced his fingers into your mouth, you sucking the wetness off like it was your last meal.

“You fucking dirty girl, you like the way you taste?” He asked, his fingers still in your mouth as he pulled his shorts down, revealing his boxers to you. “Yes, I love it so much. I need to fill me up Negan, ruin me please.” You managed to get out through heavy breathing and his fingers. He chuckled, manoeuvring your body so you were on all fours, facing the mirrored closet doors, next to the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m going to fuck you so dumb baby girl, you’ll forget your own name when I’m done with you. Going to get you drunk on my cock. You won’t even want another man to touch you.” You whimpered, seeing Negan pulling his large cock out of his boxer shorts, them falling to the ground. His tip was red, leaking with precum, standing erect. He looked like a Greek god, his posture so manly and authoritative. He lined up at your opening and wasted no time, starting at a hard and fast pace. “Oh my god, Negan yes! Fuck!” Your nails dug into your own hands, the leather of the belt still digging into you causing pain but you didn’t care, the feeling was too good to complain. Your toes curled with pleasure in your heels, Negan’s hands gripped on your hips like he was holding on for dear life. “Shit doll, you feel so fucking good, so tight for Daddy.” You eyes widened at the nickname, you’d always wanted to experiment with a daddy kink but he’d never allow it, said it made him feel weird. You couldn’t believe how much this man was filling your darkest fantasies, you felt like maybe your boyfriend cheating was a blessing in disguise after all. Negan’s hand came down to slap your ass, the motion leaving a good red mark on your cheek. You looked towards the large mirrors in front of you, seeing Negan’s body go through the motions, his hips bucking against your ass as he fucked you deep. “Yes daddy, I’m so tight for you, you feel so good inside me.”

Neither you or Negan heard the front door open, your boyfriend finally getting back from his night out, guilt filling him up as he remembered what had happened last night. He knew that what he did was wrong, that kissing that woman was wrong. Still tired and hungover, he at first thought his imagination was playing tricks on him when he heard moaning coming from upstairs, he didn’t think his dad was dating anyone, a look of confusion coming onto his face. He made his way up the stairs, looking through the open gaps of the banister, his features wrinkling in disgust and disbelief when he saw you, head thrown back in pleasure as you met Negan’s thrusts in a timed motion. He rushed up the whole flight of stairs until he got to the door.

“What the fuck is happening here?!” You heard the voice of your boyfriend, your eyes opening with a gasp, you thought Negan would stop, embarrassed that the two of you had been caught in such a way but he went even faster in and out of you, your hands trying to grab some of the blanket that was at the end of the bed, failing miserably due to the fact of your hands being bound together.

“Hey son, just treating your girl to a proper fuck, you were stupid as fuck to let this one go, she’s one dirty fucking girl! Maybe this will teach you not to go round sticking your dick in other women when you’ve got an absolute diamond at home. Now stand there and watch boy.” Negan laughed, your eyes meeting with your boyfriend, you couldn’t help with the moan that escaped your lips as Negan moved down to grab your chin, his head coming to the side of your ear. “Tell him doll, tell him how good daddy’s fucking you.” You smirked, looking out the corner of your eyes to look at Negan. “So fucking good daddy, filling me up, better than he ever could. Please keep fucking me like this daddy.” You whimpered, your lips meeting with Negan as he kept his eyes open, staring at his son.

Your boyfriend didn’t know what to do, he rushed out of the room, slamming the front door behind him as he was trying to gather his thoughts together.

“That was so fucking dirty doll, oh my goodness! I can feel you getting close girl, let yourself cum all over my cock. I want to finish inside you, fill your body with my baby.” You screamed out as your orgasm took over your body, black spots coming into your vision. Your pussy felt like it had a death grip on Negan’s cock, his thrusts coming to slower pace as he let you ride out your orgasm. “Pull out of me, I want to ride you daddy.” Negan didn’t need any more encouragement as he pulled out of you, lying down on his back as you dug your heels into the mattress, sat on top of him. “Be careful with those things, don’t want a hole in my mattress dollface. You look fucking good in them though, sexy as fuck.” He said, as he shoved his cock into your dripping hole. You bounced up and down, even with your orgasm taking energy out of you, you couldn’t stop, you needed Negan like a hardcore drug. His musk mixing with a light sheen of sweat over your bodies. Negan’s hands gripped your ass as he directed your body as you grind into his hips, your second orgasm building up in your core. His cock filling you up, “That’s it baby, bounce on daddy’s cock for me, I want to see my seed dripping out of you.” You quickened your pace, feeling Negan’s cock twitching in you. “That’s it daddy, fill me up with your seed, I want you to fill my pussy up daddy!” You screamed out, uncaring about neighbours being able to hear you, you were too cock-drunk to care. Negan growled, his seed spurting out in you, his hands gripped your hips like a vice, his breathing heavy. You came to your end as well, gushing all over his cock, wetting the bed below you and Negan’s stomach as you squirted for the first time ever in your life. You moaned louder than ever, falling to the side of Negan, his flaccid cock sitting on top of his torso. You both were spent, the only thing that could be heard in the room was heavy breathing. Negan got up slowly from the bed, he released you from the belt, your wrists red and sore. He grabbed a small towel from the on-suite bathroom, cleaning you up from your squirt wetness. He laid back next to you, his arm coming over you to pull you closer, a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Life is never going to be the same again after this doll. Shit, I know it’s wrong to ask but leave him, I’ll treat you better than that stupid boy.” You looked at him, a smile coming across your face. “Negan, you could ask me to do anything right now and I’d say yes, that was the best fuck of my life, Daddy.”

Negan laughed and slapped your ass as he caught you in another sensual kiss.

[afyrian]

congrats for almost 600 lovely! 🥰🫶

woah wait a sec… OH MY GOD!! there’s just been a ROBBERY! we need help! wait, do you hear that NOISE? could that be BLACK WIDOW? (… 🤭)

punch them and they bleed iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader (hurt/comfort) m.list | wc: 1.2k | prompts: forced proximity + band au slightest sexual warning, like barely

    "you're so goddamn stupid," you follow iwaizumi into the dressing room, drumsticks sticking out of your back pocket, hands resting on the back of your neck.

  "i'm the stupid one? you chose this venue, you called the guy out for being an ass, and you somehow always convince me to fight your battles for you. you and your stupid ass drumsticks," he retorts, hand pushing up against his nose, blood covering his fingers. 

  grabbing the first aid kit from his locker, you set it down on a bench, forcing it open with an intensity that isn't quite needed. pursing your lips, you grab out an antiseptic wipe, noticing the cut on his cheek. it’s thin, almost like the edge of a ring caught it. his hand lingers under his nose, his knuckles split, blood rolling down his forearm.

  grabbing a nearby tissue with your other hand, you run it up his arm, splits of blood still stuck by his wrist, "right, yeah, blame the whole thing on me asshole. he was saying you play like shit and i was defending you, or does that not matter?" 

  "it doesn't matter when he climbs on stage and tries to bash your head in," iwaizumi takes his free hand and swats yours away, quickly grabbing a box of tissues from behind him, using one to block his nose and the other to clean up his fingers.

  he sits down on the bench, looking up at you. raising an eyebrow, you stare back at him. sitting down beside him, you take the wipe and bring it up to his cheek. your hands tingle as they press against his face, the short hairs on his face rubbing against your hand. it feels natural there, like a settling home. holding an antiseptic wipe, you brush it against his skin, the cut running from his cheekbone to his temple. 

  you watch as his noses scrunches up from the feeling. "what? you can take a few punches but a wipe gets you?" your expression becomes deadpan besides a small smile twitching at your lips.

  "i can do this myself if you’re going to be a prick,” iwaizumi attempts to grab the wipe from your hand, only failing to do so when you hold it away from him, dangling it by your side. 

  pursing your lips, you wait for him to bring the tissue back to his nose, his other hand falling to his hip. silently, you bring it back up to his face. you finally clean off the wound and grab at a needle and thread from the kit. bringing it up to his cheek, you glance at his eyes, “just focus on me.. you know this’ll hurt.”

  giving you a ‘mmh’, he closes his eyes as the needle goes in the first time. his hands clench into fists around his jeans. you get through the first few switches before his eyes open to look at you. through deep breaths, iwaizumi waits as you push the needle in again, clenching his jaw. his gaze stays on you as your pinkie grazes his eyebrow.

  “do you need pain meds?” you put the needle through one last time, tying it like you have many moons ago.

  “god, yeah of course i need pain medication,” he brings his hand up to his nose, pulling the tissue out of his nostril and holding another one up to it, pain migrating across his face. 

  rolling your eyes, you toss the rest of the thread into the box, heading for the door. you help him, clean him up, and the thanks you get is sitting empty in a first aid kit. instead of dwelling on the residual feeling, you grab ahold of the door handle and twist. as you pull at the door, it doesn’t budge. 

  furrowing your eyebrows, you take in a deep breath, trying again. “the door’s stuck, like actually fucking stuck,” you quickly shake the handle of the door, knocking on it as your heart rate quickens. 

  “you’re joking,” iwaizumi sighs, standing up from the bench, stopping when the blood quickly rushes to his head, his vision going dark. 

  looking back at him, you watch as his hand reaches out to the bench. pursing your lips, you walk towards him, hand reaching for his elbow. “don’t be stupid, sit back down,” you help him back onto the bench, “honestly, you get your shit rocked and suddenly you think you’re superman.”

  “i was just standing up! didn’t know standing up and superman were synonymous now,” he shakes his head, opening his mouth until his jaw pops, pain finally subsiding in his jawbone. 

  “it is when you’re still bleeding and your knuckles look raw,” you grab another wipe before running it along his the back of his hand, feeling his fingertips on your palm as you do so, “don’t do that shit again”

  his hand is rough from the bass strings, his touch sending shivers up your arm. looking back up at him, you meet his eyes, the air thick with tension. iwaizumi’s breathing heavily, a stinging sensation shooting up his hand. his nostrils flare, tongue running along the bottom of his teeth as he tries to hold back saying something he’ll great. that you’ll both regret.

  “you’re so goddamn annoying, you never just shut up for once,” he finally says, scooting a few inches closer to you, unable to move his eyes away from you. 

  “yeah? well who’s gonna stop me?” 

  before you can taunt him any further, your hand still gripping his, he closes the gap between you. his lips press against yours, the taste of blood still lingering. its metallic as it makes contact with your tongue, filling your mouth with a taste that is anything but desired. however, you can’t break away from him, hand moving to the back of his neck. 

  you can feel the tissue slightly sticking out of his nose, the stubble on his chin that scratches against yours. pulling your hand from his, you run your fingers through his hair. his hands grab at your waist and pull you onto him, letting out a groan as his shoulder bears the weight. legs wrapping around his waist, you lean into him, letting your fingers grip onto the short hairs by the nape of his neck.

  “hajime…” you whisper into his lips, feeling the slight bump forming from the altercation.

  just as his hands start pulling at your shirt, a knock on the door winds you out of the moment, your head whipping back from his, “uh… hello?”

  “we heard you pounding, the manager says the door gets stuck like that sometimes, we’re getting it open now!” oikawa shouts from the other side of the door, “know how much you dislike each other, wouldn’t want you killing each other behind the door!”

  you look back at iwaizumi, looking at the beet red color coming to his cheeks. he closes his eyes, rearing his head back in frustration. biting your lip, you hold back your laughter, hands still holding onto the back of his neck. “so i’m so goddamn annoying that you fell in love, huh?”

  “and i’m so goddamn stupid that you kissed me right back? the devil’s in the details, isn’t it, y/n?”

a/n: thank you so much!! i hope you like it <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 8

Part 1 Part 7

The gun feels wrong in Steve’s hands – simultaneously a toy and something so horrible he wants to throw it across the street and start running. But he can’t.

Because Eddie fucking Munson is in the street causing a ruckus as Steve stays, crouched behind some boxes in the alley behind the arcade, eyes trained down the scope of the rifle, finger brushing the trigger. His back aches from the poor posture he’s forced it into, knee scrapped raw from the rough pavement it’s squashed into.  

He's hovering somewhere between eight and seventeen. The wall beside him looms like his father, and Munson, flighty and frantic in front of him, plays the deer.

He’s eight, and his father’s hand is squeezing hard into his shoulder, urging him to, “take the shot, goddamn it, Steven, now!” He does. The shot hits the deer’s flank. It falls in the hollow between tree roots, but he didn’t do it right. He’s still breathing, ribs rising and falling rapidly as the life forced leaves in the bullet hole between his ribs.

He leans over and throws up into the dirt – the remnants of the scrambled eggs his mom made him that morning painting his father's shoes. He smacks him so hard he falls into the dirt, still heaving, and goes to put a bullet between the buck’s eyes.

Steve pictures that same bullet hole in Munson’s eyes and feels bile rise. He swallows it down, watches the other boy rant and flail and pace. Forgets the deer. Forgets his father. Just…forgets.

Steve should have given Munson credit for staying quiet before; when he’s trying, he’s loud. He’s rattling the metal lunchbox he fished from his pack, yelling about the patriarchy and how the man wants to keep them down, like this is one of his lunchroom confessionals and not a half-assed desperate plan to kill before they can be killed.

The only giveaway to Munson’s mounting fear is the violent tremor running through his hands, shaking as he gestures with his usual frenetic energy kicked up a few notches.

Steve’s foot taps with the need to move, to call a halt to this stupid fucking plan. He doesn’t, couldn’t even if he wanted to.

There’s a sound, reverberated through the alleyway. Like growling static. Like the devil is welcoming him home. Munson spins, eyes wide as he looks at where Steve’s crouched before his gaze travels up up up, like he’s going to look up at the clouds.

There’s a clicking on the pavement. Nails on cement. A dog on a walk. But then there’s that sound again, closer now. Growling. Static. Silence.

Steve turns around.

 It’s in the alleyway, standing tall, face puckered, arms outstretched.

“Steve—” He’s never heard Munson sound like that before. Like Steve’s breaking his heart and he’s terrified over it. He doesn’t have time to think about it.

The thing’s face unfurls slowly, then all at once, like petals toward the sun, but instead of pollen in the middle, it’s just teeth, all the way down. And the sound. It’s shrill, reverberating through his brain, shaking him where he stands.

Then, it’s charging.

Claws swipe, catching Steve in the shoulder, bringing him down. It stops to screech, flower head puckering and unfurling. Teeth teeth teeth, all the way down, but none of that matters. None of that matters because it stalks right past him and straight for Munson.

Steve has the rifle up before his next breath, fires on the inhale, holds the air in his lungs as the thing screeches in pain, stumbling in its forward momentum. The bullet is lodged in its ribs.

Munson has fallen on the ground and is scrambling backward, hand over hand in a desperate bid for survival.

Steve fires again, knicks the things neck, fires again when it turns to screech at him again, sending the bullet straight through the things gullet.

It doesn’t drop like it should, but it doesn’t keep coming, either. The thing turns tail and runs away.

Steve drops the gun, still staring at the spot where it had been standing.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Munson says, each one faster than the last, as he scrambles out of his crab-walk and bolts toward Steve.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, just as Munson drops to his knees in front of him, his knees impacting with the pavement letting out a loud crack.

“Am I okay?” Munson asks. He sounds hysterical, and he’s crying a little as his hands hover over Steve like he’s a wounded deer. “It got you.”

He scoots closer, almost hovering over Steve as one of his hands finally settle onto Steve’s elbow. That brings the pain. It radiates from his shoulder, hot and dripping onto the pavement. He groans.

“Shit shit shit.” Munson rifles through his backpack, pulling out the bandages from the ransacking of Melvald’s and pulls them tight over his shoulder. The groan turns sharp, reverberating across the walls of the alley they’re still in. “I know, I know, sorry – shit!”

Munson lets him breath for a minute, before pulling him up, arm around his waist as he leads him away. Steve keeps his grip on the shotgun, knuckles turning white as he clutches onto it through the waves of pain.

“Time to go home,” Eddie says.

Home. What a concept.

Part 9

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Ok, so I just wanna say I love your Mob! Turtles headcannons! They're awesome. I also had a request if you're taking any at this time. I was wondering if you could do some HCs of the Mob! Turtles coming home one day injured and their S/O bandaging them up while scolding them for not being careful. You can decide what happens, but I would love to read what you come up with. Bonus points if it ends up *steamy* if you know what I mean.

Ok I love this idea, thank you for asking for a mob! turtles one, I adore those boys so much

Mob! Leo

"How could you be so reckless?" It's almost a hiss

"I knew I could take him, and I did..." but that last part was more of a whisper

Leo is carefully patting at your raw and bleeding knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in antibacterial while bandages sit on the table next to him.

you're sat in a chair at the kitchen table and he's crouched on the ground in front of you, so pissed he's not making eye contact

sometimes he'll turn your arm and see a new bruise/cut and shake his head in rage

"It could have ended so much worse than it did" his voice is strained, you're not sure if it's with concern or anger or a mix of both

you take his chin in your hand and force him to look up at you

"Baby, he had it coming. I'm your's, remember? He didn't seem to deterred even though he knew that."

Something in his eyes softens. He loves being reminded that he owns you and you own him

once the bandage is securely tied around your arm there's a different look in his eye

he stands, looking down at you

"Get on your knees and show me how sorry you are"

you gladly comply

Mob! Raph

"pissed" doesn't even begin to cover it

he dragged you out of that bar fight, even though you were winning, flashing his gun at the prick who was trying to follow you out

when you get in the car you're in for it

the second the doors close, he explodes at you

"Out of all the stupid shit you've done, this really is the fucking dumbest! A bar fight? Really, y/n?? Hey, how about next time we-" he notices blood dripping down your arm and stops.

a broken bottle has slashed at your upper arm, it probably needed stitches.

Raph keeps a first aid box in the glove compartment and whips it out to staunch the bleeding and wrap your arm in a bandage

he doesn't say anything

"come on, you know I hate the silent treatment. At least yell at me or something?"

He shakes his head

you get a new idea

"well, this top is ruined so I guess I better take it off"

before he can say a word you've slipped off your t-shirt and thrown it in the back, your chest exposed

Raph looks away but it's clear what's on his mind

you place a hand on his knee "let me make it up to you?" you say with puppy dog eyes

Raph growls before pulling you onto his lap

thank god for tinted windows you guess.

Mob! Mikey

When you get home there's no hiding that you've been in a fight

and when Mikey sees you he's frozen between "do I go out and shoot whoever did this?" and "do I bandage them up first?"

he decides on the latter

the entire time he's patching you up he's talking almost to himself

muttering "you go for the eyes" and "make 'em fucking pay for even looking at you"

he's almost shaking with rage

there's something animalistic about it that really does it for you

when he's done, he looks you right in the eyes

he says one simple cammand

"Never again"

and you know he means it

"I'm sorry" you reply

He tilts your head up a kisses you deeply

Mob! Donnie

oh you're in for it

"Are you fucking stupid? Have you lost your goddamn fucking mind?!"

he's cussing you out but you know he's just scared he could have lost you

a bar fight with 3 big ass dudes could have ended badly for you and it almost did

he's still wrapping up your arm very carefully, he did train to be a doctor after all.

"I ought to keep you in a cage, in fact, I might. One more fucking incident like this and I'm chaining you to a wall in my room!"

"That's....Kind of hot, honestly, Donnie..." you smirk.

He looks up at you

"Let me show you how I keep what is mine"

Grabbing you by the wrist he pulls your up and throws you over his shoulder

the next morning you can hardly walk but, honestly, it was kind of worth it

[irenadel]

brushing johns hair after a long day

(the tiniest bit smutty, beware, unsure if this is what you asked for, but this is what came out)

It had been a weird fight. He'd just wanted to fuck. YOU'D wanted to fuck. He could tell, had in fact been following his nose straight to your panties from the last couple of blocks. You'd kissed him and wrapped your legs around his waist and he'd been so worked up, so ready to just fucking leave behind every goddamn frustration, every single one of the million fucking things that had gone wrong today... but noooo! It just wasn't ever fucking simple with you.

Granted... maybe he had switched positions too often, unable to get that good angle that just made his mind go blank. Maybe he'd ignored a couple of anxious questions about how he was feeling (but was it really his fault when your sweet, anxious voice made him so fucking hard?) ... Maybe he'd asked you to moan filth in his ear one too many times without being able to get you to say exactly what he'd needed to make that tight, broiling knot in his chest go away...

You were usually so good at that. You usually liked it.

I'm not your fucking stress ball, you had hissed angrily, smelling so much of arousal that it made him dizzy. Did you really need to get into it right now? Did you always need to be making mountains out of fucking molehills with him? Besides, you didn't have to get pissy AT HIM, because you'd had a bad day. He knew he'd fucked up the moment the words left his mouth.

You were angry cleaning now. Unpacking and dusting the seemingly endless boxes of books you'd moved into his condo. They'd filled him with a thrill of delight at first: your things in his home. He'd fucked you against the bookshelf he'd bought specially for all those little pieces of yourself you had surrendered to him. But now he just resented the excuse they gave you. The little fortress of private time (away from him) they represented. He hovered outside it, irritably clicking his tongue against his teeth, knowing he might need to apologize, dreading it anyway.

But you rescued him, as you so often did, and he near smiled at the thought.

"You can come help me, if you want."

He did want to, very much, and did not even try to cover his schoolboy eagerness when you handed him a dust rag and a pile of books. He'd asked you often why you didn't just have one of the various assistants always running around Vought do this... but now he thought he understood. There was something about the resinous smell of the new bookshelf, the prickly aroma of old books and the soothing murmur of your voice telling him this one goes here, hand me that other one, that seemed to unclench something inside him. He still felt bone-deep exhaustion, but he no longer wanted to break shit about it.

"You can just tell me when you've had a bad day, you know?"

He didn't let his hands stop, but rather scoffed and looked away, trying to forestall the inevitable. Predictably, you did not let him.

"Oh for crying out loud! Give me that!" You said, a part of you still smarting from the stupid fight, exasperation cut short the moment you reached for the book he held and your hands touched. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop being pathetic for you for a second. Apologies might be buried deep and hard to come by, but this was easier. It was infinitely easier to grab your hands and maneuver himself into your arms. Because you had never denied him this. He didn't know what he would do if you ever did.

He soaked in the warmth of your breasts, the steady beating of your heart, packed it away, secured it against the day it'd all be finally gone. When he felt your hands bury themselves in his hair he almost sobbed in relief. He did hold you closer, squeezed as hard as he dared, mindful always of your fragility, let himself draw in a ragged breath at the scrape of your nails against the back of his neck, pulling apart the strands of his hair along with the strands of himself. If he could have buried his face in your ribcage, crawled inside, he would have.

"I'm sorry," he whispered furtively against your neck. Your sharp intake of breath he hoarded as well, along with the weight of your lips on his hair, your sweet fingers touching his jaw so feather-light that they made him groan.

"I know," you say and he hopes you do. He hopes the day never comes when he cannot make you believe it.

[timespaceandfilm]

Reinventing the Wheel - Ch 15: Metamagic

Author: timespaceandfilm

Fic Rating: E - this fic gets NSFW in later chapters, 18+ only

Chapter Rating: E

Pairings: Sebastian x Female Farmer

Chapter Word Count: 7k

Chapter Warnings: Neck kisses, Masturbation

Chapter Summary: Sam, Seb, and Charlie play some tabletop RPG. Seb is still a tease. Charlie takes matters into her own hands.

Blurb:

Sam leaves soon after, grumbling about Jodi’s stupid curfew. I stay behind to help Seb clean up.

“You did really well by the way.” Seb looks at me, arms folded and a smile on his face.

I shrug, feeling the flush come to my cheeks. “I guess so. There's still a lot I don't know or need to relearn. It's been awhile.” I stand once I finish placing the minis in their respective slots and put the lid on the box. 

I gasp as Seb wraps me in a hug from behind, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't sell yourself short darling. You clearly know your stuff and you make smart moves.” I shiver as his voice shifts to sound more like his Xarth impression. “It's kind of hot.”

“Yoba, Seb!” I pant. How do we keep ending up here? I wiggle in his grip a little. “What is with you lately?”

“Whatever do you mean?” He asks coyly. His grip on me loosens a little, but his head stays where it's stationed next to mine.

“You know what I mean.” I turn around in his arms. Big mistake. Now I'm looking right into his eyes as they shine with mischief. “The teasing, the uh, physical stuff. You're acting like we're dating already.” I pout.

“Hmm. So you want me to stop?” Seb's voice keeps that deep tone to it. He moves both his hands to my shoulders.

“I-I dunno. I mean it just feels like maybe it might get confusing.”

“For who? Because honestly Charlie, if we were dating I wouldn't be doing this right now.”

“You wouldn't?” My voice becomes a whisper as I watch his pupils blow wide.

Seb shakes his head slowly, that pink tint slowly coming to his cheeks. “Charlie, if we had our shit figured out and I thought you'd let me? I'd have you up against a wall right now.” There's that almost growl I heard yesterday. Fangirl bot grabs a pitchfork and a torch, setting a searing heat alight below my belly. 

“Fuck.” I whisper. Seb's grip on my shoulders tighten. “Well if that were the case.” I look right up into his eyes. “I'd probably let you.”

I watch as he drifts closer, closer. His eyelashes flutter. I smirk and pull away. Seb lets out a frustrated groan as I begin packing my stuff to leave.

“Gods Charlie. Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?” He scratches the back of his neck as he watches me.

“Hmm. Good question.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Maybe because we like it?” I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows, doing my best to mimic that stupid Seb face he always does.

Seb chuckles and draws closer to hug me goodbye. “Hmm you might have a point.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and once again murmurs into my ear. “So if I keep doing this?”

My eyes flutter closed. The hand I have placed against his torso clenches around his T-shirt. Fangirl bot continues her riot in my abdomen and grabs for the mic before any other part of me can stop her.

“I'm not going to stop you.” I sigh, then shake my head to regain some control over the rampaging bot. “As long as it doesn't get out of hand,” I add on.

If I'm being honest with myself, I am enjoying the extra physical affection. Some of it maybe a little too much.

As if to prove my point, Seb mutters, “Of course,” and lands a peck right between my ear and the hinge of my jaw.

I slap my free hand over my mouth as an actual goddamn whimper tries to escape. It's all in vain apparently as Seb chuckles menacingly at my reaction. My face is on fire and so is the area between my legs.

“Okay!” I push his face away and he lets out a giggle. “That!” My index finger is right in his face. “That is boyfriend behavior!” I struggle to keep a straight face as he grins like an idiot. “Don't forget I'm your mom's favorite client asshole!”

“Alright, alright!” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I'm sorry. Boundary noted. No neck kisses.”

Read the Full Chapter on AO3

[frogsandfries]

I'm so mad about this stupid fucking relationship

I'm so fucking stupid. Why do I just let people take advantage of me? My ex always had to be in charge of the fucking narrative and strike hardest and first-est. She had a fucking free meal ticket off me, free rent and utilities for three fucking years until she finally found someone dumber than me and even more desperate for a crumb of affection and recognition.

Relationships are supposed to be teamwork, between at least two people. So why do I always end up with these schmucks who make me feel like I'm doing it all myself. Like, waow, you pay the bills when the checks come in and that's all you fucking do all month. Oh, sorry, credit where credit is due, you also bitch about how I'm not earning enough for us to save and for you to have quadruple the clothes that I have.

Nah. That's what babies are for. If you were just sitting there and choosing not to make shoes or help me with the crops, I have a weird feeling you wouldn't be getting much to eat. I can obviously fucking do everything around here on my own but produce sperm. Why do I need this person weighing me down, making more messes that I have to clean up and I'm the only one who cares about the consequences of letting my kitchen run away with itself.

You know goddamn well when they get back, my ex is going to blame me for the fucking roach problem. She can't take fucking responsibility for a goddamn thing. It's fucking incredible. Like, the mountain of empty soda boxes--of soda I don't fucking drink--should be a fucking sign. The bedroom looking like an explosion in the back of a Goodwill should be a fucking sign. The shit in the toilet that there's no way I could have produced. Should. Be. A. Goddamn. Sign!!

Maybe I'm fucking neurotic for caring about how clean my home is.

Maybe being a fucking au pére to my own fucking parents fucked me up.

I don't fucking care. Adults take responsibility. Adults clean up after themselves instead of leaving it for the maid, because adults don't want to live with bugs. And most adults can't fucking afford a fucking maid. And a maid won't fix the fucking problem if you don't do your own goddamn dishes, you spill food all over the place, and throw food packaging and garbage all over the fucking kitchen.

But she'll blame me, behind my back as she has to my face, for starting it 🙄 I'm not over here pretending I'm perfect. I probably did like, leave ramen seasoning packets and lids as I rushed to eat my lunch at work. I've never left a food wrapper for a fucking month.

I'm so angry, and I'm being unkind to myself.

I'm not the one who spent over three years lying and being disingenuous. I'm not the one who ended the fucking relationship, knowing for weeks, if not months, that that was my intent, and cashed the fuck out on someone else's fucking dime, and doesn't realize or appreciate how sociopathic that is.

I'm not even pretending I was a perfect partner. After a point, I stopped trying to be a spouse because I knew at some point, the relationship would have to end--either because we were going to have a child, or I wanted to start separating my finances, something, whatever..... The relationship was only benefiting one party. Although that party wants to claim that I'm abusive because, after being awake for four to six hours by myself, I might wake them up, impatiently reminding them that there's plenty for them to be doing to participate and make me feel "dear". Week after month after year, they chose not to.

I don't fucking believe depression is a fucking barrier to taking care of yourself. I've been to points where I don't want to get out of bed. No one is going to take care of me. This has been proven over and over--and the ones who claim most loudly to want to take care of me are the most full of fucking shit. You have to put one for in front of the other, take a fucking shower, rinse your fucking dishes, get off your ass and step away from the fucking computer.

I don't know what the fuck it's supposed to mean that a relationship not be 50/50. In this world, it has always taken a village to come together and get through life, season by season. Nowhere in history do you see a village, a neighborhood, a community, dragged through by one stolid individual. If I'm working forty hours a week, the least the other adult in the home, taking up space, using the electricity and water that I pay for, can do is--and I said this over and over--just. One. Thing. Just one. Put the dishes in the washer, you don't even have to start it. Put the meal in the slow cooker. Get a few items from the grocery store. I'm not even asking that my spouse necessarily work and earn money, but if you must, make it easy for me to earn the money.

I was far more patient and kind and tolerant than my ex had any right to and I can't stand that they had to have the last word. I can't stand that they used me and lied to me over and over and over, every single fucking day. I don't believe that she can be an independent fucking adult, but she can sure be not my fucking problem with her fucking enmeshed dependence.

Eventually, I'll be moved out, into a fresh new apartment and I'll finally have space to stop being stuck on it.

[000life-is-meaningless000]

🌱 Nature 🌱 is Not 🚫 Sacred ! 💀

Nature is not fucking Sacred it's Not

All of nature is Based around things killing other things to continue on There Meaningless Existence

. . .

Where is the spirituality in nature Where is the sacredness when all animals are killing all the animals to survive you got animals killing their own kind for dominance to survive you have extremely alien cultures and animal kingdoms

. . .

To make things even worse all cells do the same goddamn thing like selling the body microbiotics, cells are doing all the fucking time animals are doing all the goddamn fucking time even fungus in like fucking mold do the same goddamn thing Everything is in life is trying to kill everything else to continue with Meaningless Existence but most things are so fucking stupid they don't understand what they are is Meaningless, so they continue to circle Of Life they continue this Empty Hollow Existence, of eventual Death.

. . .

Life is fucking Meaningless Resource's are fucking stupid resources didn't even need to fucking exist so we could just stay as fucking Ghost's !

. . .

Life is based off Evil, Evil is Good for life !

. . .

Well, Good is Good for Death ¡

. . .

( one could argue with one energy over another and I would agree to that all lives at different type of energy a different type of essence a different type of a spirituality on its own but even spirituality is fucking Meaningless, Petty, Shallow, And De-Void aka Hollow & An Illusion of Purpose )

You just think about it nature's not sacred the universe is comprised of Greater beings conquering worlds of other Greater beings and you have deities which power the planets going to war with other deities for dominance.

( Alien's, Conquer and driving other and races into Extinction for dominance the whole universe is a fucking jungle )

. . .

Deities are a Divine family and that family is always at war with itself

. . .

Even plants that reside in the ground fight for nutrients below the surface plants are killing other plants all the time for water plants are killing other plants for nutrients there are plants that eat other plants like vines that suck on their new teeth out of them like a spider drinks a bug

Or like you drink a can pre-sun or some kind of juice box ¡

. . .

Where the fuck is the sacredness in life what's the fuck is so holy living as long as possible doesn't make life better it makes life worse because your body breaks down you get a lot of DNA loss and you suffer a lot of pain

! AND, I MEAN A LOT OF PAIN

. . .

Besides all the animals kill another animals torturing other animals eating other animals human beings are complete piece of shit to other human beings the world of humans is fucking god-awful and got himself is Pure Evil

At, The End of the day all we Really Get is . . . Death

Also a job at slavery your life is meaningless and bleak despite the fact technology couldn't be greater and more powerful and more intense than ever and human history Somehow we're also Extremely bored ?

All of us are miserable all of us are bored technology is getting stronger like a fucking digital cancer and everybody's fucking miserable

To make things worse we have the most lawful evil government in any part of human history we have never had a more stronger secret society than ever in existence fucking deep State at this point is basically a God

There's no stopping those secret of fuckers weather reptilians whether any other goddamn race any I don't give a shit at this point evil Powers rule the world but then again evil is the universe

There's a reason why the universe is colored black for a fucking reason black I think activity black is evil there's a reason why the universe has a sprinkle of light in it

Who knows how all the stars look like a sprinkle it look like Glitter in the sky Almost

Got the very evil extremely malicious all powerful deity that tortures and treats all the deities like shit well deities are always fighting for dominance and power like fucking animals

Deity you need to survive by getting fucking babies they need souls to convert into their own kind but always put certain souls are worthy cuz they have the Right quality

Life is meaningless then you die and get reincarnated and human beings are some of the stupidest fucking creatures in existence it really are the most stupid over emotional hypersensitive pussies they don't want Truth, if it offends them

[finsterhund]

I'm feeling really exhausted and sick today for some reason? Maybe it's my jaw being sore or stress or whatever. Idk.

Or maybe it's that I've started lighting my stupid fucking candles again and my asthmatic ass can't withstand the sheer might of their incendiary properties. Who fucking knows. Come to think of it I literally curl around them looking down on the light and feeling human so the smoke is going directly into my face.

But I'm using my thrifted candlestick holder which is brass and every fucking time I use it I feel like a goddamn wizard in a tower or some shit.

I need to find better ways to have fire in my bedroom. God I wish I had a fucking smithing shop. My friends have a 3D printer and I want to be the guy with the shiny ass rock material. I want a whole ass crucible. Imagine running around hoarding whatever scraps of various metals I like so I can melt them into a fucking morning star or some shit. The patterns for old padlocks are more simplistic than stuffed animal patterns provided you can actually make those pieces. Ahhgghhh every fucking month it's like my brain wants to put me into an entirely different trade that I have some level of autistic fixation on.

Particularly obsessed with the process of cleaning antique keys and making brand new but original design keys to fit locks that have long since lost theirs. The fucking lever lock wedge head keys are my fucking favourite. Cylinder lock keys of today are just so boring and ugly in comparison. Reminds me of those ugly luxury SUVs and minivans that look like they got stung by bees.

It came into my fucking head how many among us know what the keyhole shape is. I don't know if I just liked specific media like horror or what but keyholes were always something I was like "yeah. And they're shaped like that." And I fucking saw them often in places and pop culture. But cylinder lock keyholes are just some fucking jagged slit directly in the metal. At one point will there be more people who don't see the iconic keyhole shape and think "oh a keyhole. Yeah." Will that happen? Is the keyhole's place in pop culture too iconic for that to ever happen? Locks are still depicted in iconography with wedge keyholes. But will it just become a "the save icon" floppy disk thing? Speaking of, how overblown or widespread is that actually?

Uhhh I need to stop trying to write out my thoughts I'm pretty sure.

Point is uh

I like keys

And dog tags

And brass.

Other things too.

Shiny.

Also not exactly the same topic but why the fuck is it so hard to find actual colored glass these days? I'm talking pigment in the glass not a light ass surface coat of paint that gets scratched off because it scuffed against something metal on the table.

And NOW I'm remembering the discarded empty perfume bottles my grandma had at her house and they were in a little red velvet box and they were all different colors and looked like tiny vials of video game potions.

I just like pretty rocks evidently. You look at how I like colored transparent plastic with sparkles in it and that is literally just a pretty rock also. Humanity is all about food, friends, and discovering as many cool and pretty rocks as you can find or make. I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm actually missing living near the coast because shit there was sea glass. Fucking little glass colored rock treasures you can take them home and polish them and drill little holes and then make this big fucking thing with them all strung up hanging in the sky.

Little glass beads.

Also reminds me of amber I fucking love amber. Prehistoric plant rock. Prehistoric plant rock transparent colored shiny gem glass

Quilt is shiny gem rock except soft. Stuffed animal also. Pillow blanket tapestry colors soft.

INCANDESCENT BULBS

Yes. Same thing.

Okays anyway I think I will try to have a nap

[crimsun-n-clover]

life’s been either monotonous or painful. i keep trying to focus on other shit but everyone i know fucking flakes or drains me.

i haven’t played dungeons and dragons in a fucking MONTH. every week i get my stuff all ready and plot everything out and try and expect what each player will do, and every week someone isn’t there. it’s usually not their fault and it’s not like i blame them but it’s my favorite thing and everyone else just doesn’t care that much. i want more players and better players, but every other player at the school is in a party and also probably actually homophobic or something. every party has at least one person who gave me shit as a kid or even recently and i’m not letting them ruin something i enjoy or get close to my party.

i just sleep through everything. i woke up at 3 today because mom called me to remind me i have dnd after school. or not but whatever. i’m just casually fucking miserable. i may have good times but i sure do have a lot of bad times.

did i post about how i kinda told my parents that my friend breakup with sugar was more than that? it was hard but it really explained a lot to them. i covered the basics but i don’t like talking to straight people about the nuances of gay relationships. you can’t just get into them a lot of the time and they never get that.

everyone around me is suffering and i can’t stop it. im just as upset as they are.

every week is just counting days.

monday- band practice with punk band

tuesday- dnd if anyone can ever fucking show up

wednesday- band practice with metal band

thursday- therapy

i wanna get away from this. i don’t even know what this is. i just need to leave and stay gone for a while.

i’m thinking about saving up to buy a trailer to get out as soon as fucking possible. i don’t think i’d fare well in an apartment and god knows the housing market wants us all dead. just somewhere i can sleep and put my instruments and comic books. somewhere i can invite the kiddos when they need to get away from their homes. somewhere i can make my own from the ground up with all my little collections of things and stupid posters. hell i’d even paint a dnd battle grid onto the kitchen table so i can run campaigns with less set up.

i sound like a goddamn hobbit but wouldn’t it be nice to have a little hole in the ground to come home to surrounded by gardens? with the occasional bout of relaxed partying and getting stoned in the middle. trade little gifts and dance around constantly. i wanna live in the fuckin shire. jesus christ. writing this shit out i’m worse than i thought.

i know i’d have to keep a lot of my stuff in storage. i may be a cave dwelling creature but my cave is fucking STUFFED. a lot of books, guitars, hobby related shit, stupid trinkets, hoards of blankets, all that.

there is some stuff i’m snatching from my parents. they have a nice coffee machine that they don’t use, too many fucking mugs, and vinyls dad won’t notice are missing for a little bit. plus i’ve been snatching pairs of pliers out of the garage as a form of psychological revenge, so i’ll probably have a whole box of them by then.

i’m worried that my cat won’t like it. i’ll try and put in a lot of things he can scratch at and give him sole high up places to look down upon me from but he’s one prissy bastard. well not really but he’s a lot like me. he’s picky and acts like someone who’s autistic. he likes to be up high and to have things that make noises. he picks fights he can’t win and sleeps through anything my that bores him. so the place i’m constructing in my head is an incredible fit for me, but i’m not sure if that’ll be good for him too.

i just did way too much research and what i want is in the 30-40k range, 200-400 monthly.

it’s not great but not too fuckin bad if it means getting out

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#313

“So! You are the fag meat for the weekend.  Get your cunt in here and remove those goddamned clothes.  You are to be naked whenever a real man is around.  We’ll be going upstairs to the garage behind the saloon soon enough.  You will be naked there too.  But first, this weekend you belong to me.  We need to go through some things.  Get over here and kneel in the middle of the room, knees spread arms behind you.  Let me give you something to stare at.  I like for my cunts to look at the dick that will fuck them up while I talk to them….

“A lot will be happening to you this weekend.  I want to go over what you are offering us.  You paid us a lot to bring you out here to submit to us.  We want to hear you say what we can and cannot do to you.  Give us your limits.  Speak!...

“…Well, that’s pretty much what you had indicated.  Nothing to your face, nothing noticeable when wearing street clothes.  Got that.  We can hurt you in other places.  No shit.  That’s easy to do.  You had indicated you want no safe word.  Is that correct?...  Great.  Stupid, but great.  That starts now.

“Ok.  Look over at my worktable.  On the wall next to my drill press, see that box with a hole in it, the one with the camera in it.  To cover ourselves, we got you stating your limits, or rather lack of limits, on video.

“What?  You are going to balk over that?  Faggot get back in place.  Faggot!...  You are not going anywhere other than back on your knees…. Officer Ross!...  Well that stopped you.  You weren’t expecting that to come out of my mouth, now, were you?  Now do the right thing and get back into place on your knees.

“I can see the gears going on in your head.  But before you do something really stupid, you will want to hear what I have to say.  There’s a lot more I need to tell you.  A LOT more.  Go on kneel.  Knees apart.  Keep looking at my cock.  Hands behind your back.  Keep them there.  Just to let you know, my men are outside that door.  Should anything happen to me, they will come in and be merciless, and they won’t avoid your precious face.

“Your name is not Garrett Monroe, like you initially told us.  It’s Declan Francis Ross.  You have been a member of the Dearborn Police Department for over twenty years.  You have a beautiful wife Miranda Ann.  She’s your second.  You have two kids from her.  Your daughter Melany Lynn age 21 attends the University of Texas at Austin studying multimedia communications.  Basically, she wants to be an influencer, whatever the fuck that is.  Your son Logan Daniel Ross just started The University of Michigan.  It’s his first year living alone.

“None of them know that Daddy is a cock hound that seeks use and abuse from big men with big dicks.  You travel all over to seek them out.  You have no problem going into Canada or driving to Chicago.  You also cruise the truck stops and rest areas looking for truckers and blue-collar men.  You have your thing, and you travel to get it.  It was easy to bait you here.  A casual comment in a chat room you frequent, and you were hooked in. 

“Oh, none of this was coincidental.  None.  I have been following you for years.  Look at my cock, my fat cock.  It’s nine inches long and eight inches around.  I know how to inflict pain with it.  The thing is, you know that pain too.  This dick has been up your cunt before.  Don’t remember?  Oh, I do.  This was twenty-three years ago, between your two wives. 

“You had just joined the force.  I didn’t know you were a cop.  I took you home from the park we connected at and fucked you up one side and down the other.  I can’t remember how long it was, but it was a good part of the night.  I shot a huge load in your cunt.  You shot too.  But once you finished you started babbling on about how wrong this was.  That was some major regret on your part.  I told you that I had to take a shower and for you to see yourself out.  Big mistake.  Worst of my life.  See a few days later, I get cops at my door saying that I was selling drugs in my apartment.  I was arrested with they found cocaine in my kitchen cabinet.  An anonymous tip and all.  I have never done coke in my life, then or now.  Six and a half years in prison and parole.  My life was ruined.

“It was only a year into my sentence when I heard the story from another convict.  He too was convicted of possession only after a few days of hooking up with a cop.  The story was nearly identical to mine even down to the cop acting all weird afterwards.  I had my lawyer investigate the similarities, and yes it was you.  I recognized you immediately.  My lawyer’s pleas went nowhere.

“When I was released, I sought you out.  I saw you and your perfect family.  I was livid.  I wanted to shred every bit of happiness you ever had.  But it wasn’t going to be something thrown together.  It needed some time.

“Since I couldn’t get a job anywhere, being a felon, I reconnected with some of the guys from when we were in.  One knew of my wild kinks and brought me here.  Whatever twisted shit I want to try out on the fagmeat we get, they are all cool with it.  They know my story, and they all want a piece of you.

“But it wasn’t going to be just this weekend.  No, I had plans to fuck your wife.  I connected with her at the gym.  We chatted a few times and she turned down my advances.  She’s really a good woman.

“Unlike your whore daughter.  I contacted her through Instagram and told her that I will be in town and would love to meet her and whatever friends she wants to bring.  I gave her an address to the glitziest restaurant in Austin and told her to take photos of her and her friends.  I reassured her that this was all in public spaces.  We chatted a few times later.  Then on a return visit, I was staying in San Antonio and asked her if she wanted to do some more photo shoots at an around my hotel.  This time she came alone.  This time—here let me show you on my phone.  That’s her, and if you notice, that dick going in her mouth is this one here.  Your daughter knows how to take care of a man.  Oh, this is my favorite part.  She just swallowed a mouthful of my load.  With my jiz running down her face, she says, ‘I love you, Daddy.’  Awwww.  Isn’t that nice.  It warms my heart.  It probably does something to yours.  I let her stay in my hotel room that night as I left early.

“Oh, don’t even start crying now.  There’s still more….  I even left her some spending money on the dresser, like a true whore, an expensive whore at that.

“Now, on the other hand, your son was cheap as shit though.  All I had to do was flash my nine inches his way in second floor bathroom in Mason Hall at The University of Michigan.  The boy loves older men.  We struck up a thing.  He’s been there for what six months?  I’ve been fucking him at least once a week.  And here’s his video with my load on his face….  Did you hear that?  He said, ‘I love you, Daddy.’  Just like his sister.  That’s not my favorite part.  No this is.  I’m asking about you…. 

“…Wow!  Did you hear that?  It must be a punch to the gut when your only son tells me, a man he barely knows, that he hates you and that he wishes that I was his daddy….  If it makes you feel better, he was loving life this morning after I flooded his guts with my dick spit.

“There’s one final video I must show you.  This other phone does not belong to anyone here.  I am not going to explain how it magically came into my presence.  But the video shows a then 15-year-old with a big dick going in the ass of… that does look like you.  It’s totally disgusting.  Hell, I had the decency to wait until Logan was 18 before I pounced on his ass, and the age of consent in Michigan is 16.  But that’s just me.  Imagine if this got out.  A respected City of Dearborn police officer getting cornholed by a 15-year-old at a rest area on I-75.  Your family would disown you.  The other members of force would think you are a pervert, which you are.  You would be ridiculed, and rightfully so.  Everyone would turn their back on you.  Not good.  Not good.

“So, now I have the power to casually destroy your life the same way you did mine two decades ago.

“Gunner! Get in here....  This is my associate Gunner.  He’s going to take the phone of you being a pedo and deliver it to your captain.  Here you go.  Now go.

“So, Shithead! Let’s discuss your options here.  That video is going to take down your world pretty soon.  Oh and, don’t assume that this is the only copy of this.  Attacking me to go after it will be both pointless and foolish.  So you are going to jail.  But unlike what you did to me, you actually broke the law.  You would be and should be thrown in jail so fast.  A police officer pedo would not fare well. I would love to watch that.

“You will never be able to get back to your life.  It’s over.  Gone.  The question that remains is what next?  Well, your kids and wife will get copies of me fucking Logan and Miranda.  Between you and those videos, your family will be a pile of nothing.

“It doesn’t have to be that way.  They don’t have to deal with this last part.  That all depends on you deciding how you want the rest of your life to be.  Do you want to face the music as a pedophile?  Or do you just want to just end your life here and now?  All you have to do is write a suicide note….

“…Jesus Christ!  You should see your face right now.  Ha!  No, I am not talking about your actual life ending, rather your life with your family, your life as a cop, your life as Declan Ross.  Rather, you know the service you were looking for this weekend, to be used and abused hard by a bunch of hung men?  Well, that’s still going to happen.  Some of those men I met way back when, when I first started thinking about coming after you.  They offered to take you after I was done with you.  They know men, usually overseas, that will pay a pretty penny to own an American cop as their sex toy. 

“You are in great shape; you should get a wealthy bidder with lots of money.  You’ll live well… or, well for a fag slave.  And you will get fucked by big hung men.

“Those are your two options.  Go back to your destroyed life and be sentenced to prison and serve the rest of your life as some other guy’s bitch, or to walk away from it and serve the rest of your life as some other guy’s personal fuckhole.  I think there’s really only one choice, don’t you?...

“…That didn’t take long.  The guys upstairs are going to be happy.  We are still going to have you write that suicide note.  It will be placed in your abandoned car which we told you to park near the Detroit River.  When they find it, along with the video of that boy fucking you, no one will make any conclusion other than you killed yourself jumping into the river, because you knew that video was making its way to your captain.

“The paper is over there.  Go ahead and write.  Say you are sorry to the world, Miranda, Melany, and Logan.  Keep it short.  Go!...

“Continue writing and extend your neck.  This collar is going on.  Are you done with the letter?  Let me see….  That’s good.  Leave it there.  Someone will be back to pick it up.  A snap of the lock should complete your transition.

“Ok.  Well.  It’s now done.  Your old life is over, and you are now slave meat.  That collar delivers one hell of a shock….  Like that!  Hurts?  Doesn’t it?

“You’ll recover.  Keep in mind, that wasn’t even a second, and it was on the lowest setting.  It’s going to get worse as the weekend continues.  Let me tell you what’s going to happen over the next 72 hours.  Tonight, you will be taken to the garage around back and installed under a rim seat.  You will be the full toilet.  Yeah, I know that was a limit you had.  Oh well.  Your balls will be wired up as well.  Any complaints about your performance, your balls will feel the brunt of it.  Sometime tonight you will be unlocked from under the seat and your holes will be raped by the men here.  They are told to show you no mercy. 

“Tomorrow night, you will be put up for a preliminary auction.  It’s exclusive to our top tier customers.  If none want to pay the set price, you will remain here for about a week when the full auction takes place.  Sunday, I will castrate you, brand you, superglue your foreskin shut so that it has just a tiny piss hole, and whatever the fuck I want to do to you.  That is unless you are purchased tomorrow night, and they pay a hefty price not to cut your balls off.  Most of the top tier buyers prefer slave balls to be replaced with fake ones.  I haven't decided it I will crush them into bursting, or use a castrating band, or just open a slit and pop them out.

“I’m so enjoying this.  I get to be as casual with your existence as you were with mine all those years ago. 

“Stop your fucking crocodile crying.  There’s just one final thing before we begin your hell.  Look at my dick.  All this planning has paid off.  Now I need to unload.  Get on your knees and take my cock in your hands.  Remember, I can shock the hell out of you with very little effort.  Feel how meaty it is, and it’s not even fully hard. 

“Skin me back.  Aha!  There’s the smell.  Nasty hunh?  In your mouth.  Clean me up.  Do it.  There’s going to be a lot nastier things going in your mouth later tonight.  Smells like shit, tastes like it too, hunh?  It probably is.  I surprised Logan this morning, and let’s say he wasn’t 100% clean. 

“Fag cunt shithead pussy bitch, my dick is coming in, and I better not feel any teeth….  Fuck yeah.  Fuck!  Well look at you.  Once you got over the mindfuck of the dick funk, you are going to town down there.  You ain't passing up a big fat dick for nothing! Ha! Good.  I’m so ready to cum.  It’s not going to take me long.  Fag, here it comes.  Oh man.  Flick your tongue like that.  Oh shit.  Oh fuck.  Look up at me.  That’s it!  Fuuuuck!  Urgh!  Ah!  Ah!  Fuck!  Jesus!  God damned, faggot you haven’t changed.  Well except, I'm glad I don’t have to worry about being arrested.

“Hold still.  I have to piss.  Just swallow.  If you have never drank before, get used to it, as pretty much that’s all you will have to drink going forward.  Oh man this feels so good.  I think I will train Logan to drink my piss.  You know, I will probably take him on as my boy.  Rest assured, once I sever all ties with his sister and mother, I will take good care of him.  What do you think about that?...  Why am I asking you?  You no longer matter.

“Let’s go upstairs and begin.”

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈  Find your solemate! 

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

[studiojeon]

bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In  your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence. 

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light. 

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with. 

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Ch. 15-Final)

Chapter Summary: THE END.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: I don’t wanna spoil anything, but if you’ve read the story so far and handled well with everything, there’s nothing to be worried about. If there’s anything you definetely can read and want to check if you’re safe, feel free to ask me about it beforehand. 

A/N 1: Thank you Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer​ for having my back for these last chapters. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. More notes at the end of the chapter.

 It’s a funny feeling to have to knock on the door which you’ve spent so long mindlessly walking right through after opening it with your own key. Yeah, it’s funny… but also a surprisingly liberating and exciting sensation. It’s just like a feeling of meeting someone new living inside you. Or someone you just didn’t know was already there, waiting for you to acknowledge them. But a great deal of what you were and had just feels foreign to you now. Like that door to your place, except this isn’t your place anymore, so you knock on the wood softly and wait to be allowed to come in.

You don’t have to wait long as you’ve barely knocked and the door is opened, with Eddie appearing in front of you.

“Hi, you’re back,” he lets out a breathy smile, a tad of nervousness on his voice.

“Hi…” you tighten your lips, not knowing how to react to the excited “you’re back” that has just blurted out of his lips. You want things with Eddie to go as smoothly as possible and you definitely don’t want another argument. Not now when you’re so eager to just do what you have to do there and then go find Bucky, “Ahm…I’ve just come back from the mission and checked in to a hotel, I need to grab some of my stuff. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh…” disappointment hardens his face as his chin lifts up, “Alright. Come in,” he nods, stepping aside.

With tentative moves, you enter your former home before Eddie shuts the door behind him, “Ahm…Can you believe I forgot my phone?” You chuckle lightly, nodding at the device on the center table in the living room, “I had to use the company’s one the entire time.” You comment, reaching over for your phone and attaching it to the Stark mobile battery charger.

As Eddie leans back against the door, you ignore the intensive and unsettling stare he holds on you while your phone’s screen lights up. You rush to check your missed calls and your heart skips a beat when you find out several of them from Bucky. Did you really have to be so stupid about forgetting your phone there?

Your eyes lift from your phone to Eddie for a moment while a thought crosses your mind… Did he see those calls? Could he have answered one of them? No… Eddie and you might not be on the best of terms right now, but you know his character, he wouldn’t…

“Your boy toy wouldn’t stop calling,” he says, his voice as bitter as his words, “Until he decided to drop by.”

“What?” You barely whisper as your heart rushes in your chest. “Bucky?”

Eddie scoffs, uncrossing his arms and leaning away from the door, “Yeah… Bucky…Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes,” he says the name you have in your contacts for Bucky in a mocking tone, “Do you have another boy toy by any chance? Dear God, Y/N…”

You register the vicious mockery coming from him, but you don’t even care while your eyes roam around the room, spotting all of the boxes with Eddie’s stuff next to your stuff, “What did he want?” You ask, your breathing becoming erratic at the possible outcomes from that encounter.

“The fuck I know.” He shrugs, walking over you, “He didn’t stay long.”

“What did you tell him, Eddie?” Your head tilts while you ask in an almost defeated tone, fingers gripping your phone hard.

His face hardens even more now that he’s right in front of you, “I told him the truth, that this is our home.” He gestures around before lunging at you and grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, “And that what you and I have isn’t just a shitty deal with a boy toy that can be destroyed by a small and unimportant glitch.” He spits.

Your vision turns into a blur while a thick lump of pure anger lodges in your throat. You harshly pull your arm and, expressing a strength you didn’t even know you had, you push him, making him trip backwards, “Fuck you, Eddie.” You push him again, this time even stronger, making his ass fall to the ground, staring up at you with big and incredulous eyes that makes you anger even bigger, “Fuck you, I thought we could’ve salvage something of our relationship, become respectful with each other at least, for our history’s sake,” you scoff pointing down at him, ”But I see now there’s just no fucking point.” You shake your head while your teeth clench.

As you move to step past him, he swiftly stands up and grabs your elbow again. “Y/n, please… don’t go. We can talk-”

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You shake your arm away, untangling it from his hold once and for all, “I have no time to waste talking to you.” You hurriedly move towards the way out, but before you leave the place, you turn back to him, “And just so you know, he’s not my boy toy, or a shitty deal, he’s the fucking love of my life.” You state, slamming the door on your way out.  

~~~

“Goddammit, Bucky, is it too much to ask for you to wait for us, you’re being too careless,” Steve chastises through the comms.

“I told you… we should’ve brought Sam.” Nat’s voice comes to his ears.

“Fuck off, Romanoff.  And you, too, Punk. You’re the last person who can say anything about being careless on missions.” Bucky hisses, being way ahead of his partners in exploring the alleged facility they are supposed to turn down from some assholes, A.I.M is what they called themselves. The third facility from that mission. Gun machine pointed ahead, he kicked open another door, finding nothing in the room again, “Besides, this place is dead, that was probably a false lead.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Nat, the receiver of the lead, scoffs, “And you would know that if you had stayed for briefing before jumping out of the quinjet in your bike, like fucking Mad Max.”

“Bucky!”

The loud voice on his ears, not Nat’s voice and definitely not Steve’s, makes him halt at once before he can kick open the next door.

“Y/N?” He frowns, not trusting his ears.

“Oh, shit.” Now, that’s definitely Steve and Nat talking in unison.

“Bucky, thank God. Finally. I need to talk to you.”

Bucky notices the relief but also the urgency in your voice. It doesn’t help him at all to figure out what the hell it’s happening, but he registers his heart racing by listening to your voice.

“Y/N?” He repeats himself, “What the hell? Where are you? Are you ok?” The thought that maybe some way you ended up as a hostage in that mission brings a lump to his stomach and his heart beats even faster.

“Yes, I’m mean, no… not really,” you speak quickly, “I’m safe, but I need to talk to you. I’m heading to the safe house designated for this mission right now. I’m gonna wait for you there.”

“What?” Bucky’s mind races trying to understand what the hell it’s happening. “I can’t… I-I have nothing to talk to you about.” He steadies his voice when he feels it faltering.   

He hears a scoff that he knows it’s Nat’s, but he says nothing, ignoring the nosey fuckers.

“Bucky… please,” you plead, the desperation present in your tone, “You have no idea how many codes I had to break find you and to get here.”

Fuck…

“You’re having a hard on right now, aren’t you?” Nat asks, breaking through the silence with amusement on her voice.

“He always had a weakness for the smart ones.” Steve comments. Whispering. Like that would help the jerk to remain unnoticed.

“You two stay fucking quiet over there,” Bucky chastises – even though neither of them were lying - while he listens to you clearing your throat, “What do you need to talk about?” He addresses you again, a bit too harshly, already regretting that reaction, but allowing the little bit of spite inside his heart to lead him on, “Is your fiancé there with you?” He clenches his teeth, “Y/N listen, I don’t want explanations, or pity-“

“Fiancé?” You practically screech into his ears, “Pity? Hell, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all. Eddie lied to you. That’s why I’m here, we need… we need to talk. There’s so much I need to say to you.”

“Like what?” Bucky whispers, heart jumping inside his chest. The fucker lied to him? Does that mean…

“Like I love you.” You burst out, punching the air out of his lungs, “Like I fucking fell in love with you and now you’re thinking I don’t, and I can’t wait another second to tell you everything I’m feeling.”

“What?” He checks, once again in barely a whisper, once again not trusting his ears.

“I love you, ok? I love you, Bucky.” You repeat, trying to speak with a calmer tone, but uneasiness still sweeps into your words.

Silence settles on his comms. No more words from you or from the snooping couple he knows is still there, listening to everything, as well. All he can listen to is his heart, frantically pounding against his chest.

“Meet you at the safe house?” You tentatively ask after a long moment of stillness.

That’s the precise moment the door in front of Bucky opens and he meets with a room full of armed assholes.

“I’ll be there in 15.” He states firmly, pointing his gun ahead.

In precisely seven minutes he has almost the entire room on the floor. He’s about to break the last man standing’s arm when Nat and Steve come running into the room.  

“Fucking hell,” Nat exclaims, taking in the place.

“We’ll take it from here, now you go to that goddamn safe house,” Steve says with a teary beam – the big softie - and points to the way out.

Like hell Bucky would waste another second.

~~~

He’s been inside the place for several minutes already, which seems like an eternity, legs quivering while he sits on the first dusted armchair he’s seen, he’s biting on his nails when he hears the knock on the door.

Not two seconds and he has the door opened, meeting with the sight of you. Panting and disheveled and perfect. And he freezes. Not one muscle inside him moves. Except for his stupid mouth.

“You love me,” he says, spontaneously, the words mindlessly coming out of his lips like in a dream.

You’re visibly taken aback at the line as you gasp and your eyes widen a fraction.

Shit… What the hell is wrong with him? He swiftly clears his throat, “Ahm, hi,” he manages to say, praying that somehow, he could erase that first sentence.

“Hi,” you answer, still clearly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers, but not taking your anxious eyes away from him, until you take in a harsh breath, “Yes, yes, I love you,” you burst out, while you suddenly step inside the place, walking past him, “I’ve been so stupid, but I was confused,” you drop your purse on the floor and, gesticulating and shaking your head, continue, “I-I thought I wasn’t sure about you, and then I was afraid I was gonna hurt you, but ended up hurting you anyway. God, I wanna kill Eddie, but no, I’m not here to talk about him,” you pace around, your trembling hands all over the place.

While you keep your rumbling confession, you miss Bucky slowly making his way to you.

“I’m here to talk about us, I mean… if you still feel how you told me you felt, I mean… after what Eddie told you, I don’t know if you still feel the same way, but I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I had work to do, and I forgot my stupid phone, I-”

You sulk in a breath when Bucky is right in front of you. Staring intently into your eyes.  You inhale some needed air, slowly, “I love you,” you say again, “I had no idea things would go this way, I didn’t even know that love could feel like this, so…” you search for the word taking another breath, “so damn wonderful. But it does, and I love you, I do. So much. I had a whole speech prepared, but that’s it. I love you.” You shrug.

Still unable to move a muscle or utter a word, Bucky keeps staring at you, like he’s in some sort of trance.

“Ahm…” You gulp, “Don’t you wanna maybe, ahm, say something?” Your voice falters, before you bite your lower lip, as if it’s getting hard for you to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky finally speaks, and, with the word choice, he can see the smile that threatens to curl your lips, but just don’t get through because you’re still clearly too nervous to allow yourself to smile, “I love hearing you talk.” He steps closer, seriousness all over his voice, “I could listen to you all day, all my life, but right now, I really want to kiss you, ok?”

That smile fully curls your lips now and Bucky smiles, too, but it’s short lived and replaced by a “humpf” as you jump on him and crash your lips on his.

He catches you and the craving you two feel for each other are expressed in the urgency of the kiss. Fingers grasp his locks. While you pull him by the neck, he pulls you by the waist, fireworks on his brain and his guts, pure longing for the proximity of his girl. His love.

Having you like that, kissing you, holding you, knowing how you feel about him is dazzling, mind-blowing, his senses falter and next thing he knows he’s sitting on the armchair with you across his lap.

Smiles surge through the kiss before you part from his lips, only to pepper kisses all over his face… neck… lips again, “I love you, I love you,” you repeat like a mantra between kisses, holding him with a strength he didn’t even know you possessed.

“God… sweetheart… I love you. You have no idea how much. You can never hurt me, don’t ever say that again. I love you,” he breathes, you thinking that you had hurt doesn’t go unnoticed by him, if only you could see how his poor heart is melting inside his chest with all the love he’s feeling and receiving from you.

His breath hitches when your teeth graze his neck, “I missed you…” You whisper, your voice becoming dangerously low while your hand wanders through his thigh, “And I missed this.” Your hand meets his crotch, caressing the bulge forming there, making Bucky’s brain short-circuit, “You’re so gonna love make up sex… I believe I have a lot of making up to do with Little Bucky.” You bite his earlobe, putting a bit of more friction over his bulge.

“Fuck… shit…” Bucky curses, “I want it so damn much, sweetheart, you have no idea how much, but, ahm…” He clears his throat, “Not in front of the baby.”

You lean back and frown at him, “Huh?”

Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and nods behind you.

You follow his gaze and there is Alpine. Seated on the carpet. Staring up at them, in all her confident and glorious demeanor.  

“Oh.” You swiftly remove your hands from his pants. Suppressing a laugh in your lips, you turn to Bucky again, “What is Alpine doing here in the safe house from your very Avengey mission?”

“Yeah…” Bucky tickles his tongue before tightening his lips, holding you on his lap by your waist, “You know… she just can’t leave my side anymore. “

“Of course,” you put on a mocking frowning expression, nodding your head, “She is the one who can’t leave your side, yeah…” You chuckle.

He’s got a guilty smile on his lips, but before he can offer you a comeback, a meow catches your attention before Alpine jumps on your lap.

Bucky feels the tension on your body by the surprise as you stare down at the white cat. 

“Bucky… Bucky…” you barely whisper, not moving your body in the slightest, while Alpine sniffs your hand before curling down comfortably on your lap.

“Oh my God,” You breathe and aim a disbelieved, yet incredibly satisfied smile at Bucky, still not moving a muscle as if you would break the spell if you did.

“I told her she would love you,” Bucky shrugs, feeling no surprise at all. He removes the arm from around your belly to allow Alpine to accommodate herself better.

“Aww, Bucky,” you coo, looking down and scratching behind Alpine’s ear, whose eyes shut at the petting, “You’re one protective little girl, aren’t you?” You address her, before turning to Bucky again, “I bet she knows I’m sure about you now, and there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”

“Is that so?” Bucky grins.

“That's so.” You nod, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek, “Although, I gotta be honest…” You say, leaning back, with a smirk, “I thought it would be harder to win you over now.”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky puffs with a scorning expression, shaking his head, “The sooner you learn this the better: I’m a sucker for you.”

Your smile widens and you lean in to kiss him, but something catches your eyes behind his shoulder, “Ahm… is that my perfume?” You frown at the familiar bottle peeking out of his backpack thrown on the floor behind him.

Bucky doesn’t even look behind him, knowing he’s just been caught while you look back at him with amusement growing in your expression.

“Bucky Barnes, did you buy my perfume?” You ask with a gleeful voice.

Well, he better might as well use his armory, too, and, using the same tone of yours, he asks, “Is my name on your phone “Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes?”

You gasp, “How do you…” you start to ask, but doesn’t need to finish as you squint, “Nat…” You say in defeat.

Bucky laughs, while absentmindedly running a hand over Alpine’s back on your lap. “Face it. We’re a couple of creeps, sweetheart.”

You smile sweetly at him, “Yeah… But you’re my creep.” You lean over and peck his lips.

The sound of the door being burst open makes you yelp and almost fall from Bucky’s lap. He catches you steadily, while you hold Alpine protectively.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Nat has a smug smile on her face.

“Jesus, when will this ever stop?” Bucky glares at her, while you try to recover your breath.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you add, not bothered to leave your position on Bucky’s lap.

“Are they decent?” Steve’s voice is heard from the outside.

“Physically, yes. Morally? Never.” Nat answers, her smirk widening while she walks inside.

Steve then comes behind her, with a proud and excited smile on his lips.

“I knew this thing would work out,” Nat says, finger waving between you two.

You and Bucky look at each other and scoff, before you turn to her, “No, you didn’t. You were fucking terrified.”

Like a perfect eight-year-old and not the greatest spy on earth, Nat crosses her arms and, squinting, shows off her tongue at you.

And that’s when Alpine, still in your arms after the scare Nat gave you, hisses at her in her very peculiar and protective way. While Nat raises an eyebrow at her, your jaw drops and you exchange excited looks with Bucky before you smugly pet the cat’s head and tell her what a good girl she is.

Bucky decides, right then and there, having his two girls in his arms, that he’s the happiest bastard on the planet.

~~~

He is the one who knocks on the door while he holds your hand tightly.  Bucky looks at you and smiles. When you look and smile back at him, he wonders if his heart would ever stop altogether at that sight, cause it sure feels like it every single time.

“Hey, oh-“ Eddie gulps down his words when he sees you at his door along with Bucky.

He obviously wasn’t expecting Bucky to be there, too, and it brings a smirk to Bucky’s lips, his fingers intertwined with yours.  

“Can I get my stuff now?” You ask and the sheer disdain in your voice could be enough to make Bucky hard right then and there, but he focuses on the glare on his face at the stupid short asshole in front of him.

Eddie’s gaze lifts from the joined hands before he looks at you and nods, an astonished expression on his face.

The scowl on your expression eases when you look back at Bucky with a smile, “Wait for me?”

“Sure sweetheart, call my name if you need me.” He smiles back before you lean in and peck his lips in front of Eddie.

Oh… his mischievous girl.

Without sparing one glance at the man on the other side of the door, you walk past him towards your former bedroom.

At the very same second Eddie makes a move to go after you, his shoulder is swiftly pushed against the doorframe by a metal hand.

“I know for a fact I can smash your head using only one of these,�� Bucky waves his metal fingers in front of Eddie’s face, “That’s the reason why I haven’t laid them on you, yet, cause you know… I’m a good guy and stuff…but I’m willing to forget all about that and do it anyway if you take another step towards her,” Bucky threatens through his clenched teeth, “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie stammers, widen eyes on the metal hand.

“Now you go and sit on that pretty couch… which I know quite well, by the way,” a wicked smirk curls his lips, before the deadly glare shifts Bucky’s face again “And you wait there until we leave.”

When Bucky lets go of Eddie’s shoulder, the guy rushes to the sofa and stays there. Completely quiet and still, avoiding Bucky’s unyielding stare on him.

Minutes after, Bucky catches your packed bags for you and you walk away hand in hand without looking back.  

~~~

As he takes quick steps to his place, Bucky can’t believe he’s finally going to see you again. Ever since you two finally set things up, work has been a complete bitch. He’s been called to another emergency mission, from which he has returned this morning, but then has been stuck in a conference room ever since. Fucking Nick Fury…As for you, you also had to work on the reports of your mission with Thor, and not even by phone you two have been able to talk much.

To be honest, it’s been only a couple of days, but now that he knows you love him back, he can’t wait to have you in his arms… and in some other parts of his body that’s been aching for you, too.

Thank God for Tony Stark, who just couldn’t cope with you staying at a hotel and, in a matter of hours, there was an apartment in the Tower waiting for you. Now that he’s only a few floors away, he plans on taking a quick shower and running straight to you.

His pace halts once he’s at his door. He frowns. Something’s out of place. Positioning his flesh hand over the gun on his thigh holster, he slowly turns down the knob of his door.

“Please, don’t shoot me.”

The sweetest of sounds, the sound of your voice makes him let out a relieved sigh right before a smile crosses his lips. He moves his hand away from his gun to open the door fully. The sight he catches when he does, takes his breath away all over again.

The lights are dim, only scented candles illuminate the place while rose petals pave the way from the door. There’s a small round table right there in the adjacent dining room, set with fine dishes and glasses and decorated with a crystal vase and fresh flowers.

Beautiful.

But not as beautiful as you. Standing there in his living room, wearing a short lace black dress with thin shoulder straps and a V-neck that makes his mouth water. You won’t be wearing that much longer, that much he knows as his pants become tighter.

He doesn’t realize for how long he’s been staring at you, until you move your gaze away for a second, biting your lips and scratching the back of your ear, “Hi,” you whisper and Bucky can see your shoulders getting a bit tense, “Welcome to our first date.” You give him a cringing smile and lift your arms, gesturing for him to see around the place, “Hope it’s not too much, though… I did spend a few hours fixing this up, Alpine was a doll and has been here keeping me company until she got bored and went to take a nap, I guess. I did not have time to cook but Tony offered his personal chef services and all we need is to call-”

After a few long steps he shuts your sweet nervous rambling by pressing his lips on yours. He pours all his love into the gesture and hopes he can erase whatever vestige of doubt and insecurity in that pretty mind of yours.

“I was dying to see you, sweetheart,” he says, breathing hard, just as you do, when he parts away, keeping both his hands on your cheeks, while you circle your arms around his waist. “This is… “ He looks around, “Incredible… You… shit… you look fucking sexy.” He groans, giving your body a once over, which makes you chuckle, “I’m only sorry you beat me to plan our first date. I should be the one to make all of this for you,” he says, tenderly brushing his thumbs on your cheeks.

You smile at him and tilt your head to place a kiss on his hand while one of yours starts drifting down his chest, “I’m still in debt with Little Bucky, aren’t I?” You wink at him while your wandering hand cups his cock through his pants, making him suck in a harsh breath, “And from now on I’m going to romance the shit out of you.” Your smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. Smiling, he leans over and captures your lips again. Not so gentle this time, since your cheeky words and your touch only makes the fire in him burn even hotter.

His hand drops from your face to your waist and he pulls you to him before he adventures down your ass, grabbing a handful of it through your dress, which makes you whimper through the kiss.

God, he loves the little sounds you produce when he touches you like that and he’s determined to coax a bit more out of you when he dips his hand under the hem of your dress and grabs your ass without the fabric’s barrier. But he’s the one to make a strangle sound to find out you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

“Fuck.” He parts from your lips only to ravish your neck, “Can the food wait a little, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah… please.” You pant, still brushing your hand on his aching cock.

He drags his lips to yours again, making the kiss deep and sloppy, savoring the feel of your tongue on his, the sweet taste of your mouth. You hike up your thigh around his waist, and his hand moves from your ass to between your legs. You moan through his lips and he groans to find you wet and ready for him.

His naughty, naughty girl.

“Honey…” He breaks the kiss but keeps his finger drawing little circles on your lips, watching closely while your swollen lips part and your eyes flutter. “I promise I’m gonna take my time and properly savor you throughout this whole night, but right now?” He pants and shoves a finger inside your damp cunt, “I just can’t take any longer, I need to have you. I want you so badly, do you want me, too?” He coos, curling his fingers on the point that always makes you yelp, gaining the aimed reaction from it.

“Fuck…” You curl your arms around his neck and lean over to whisper on his ear, “Always, baby. Always… I want you to rail me.” You grind your hips on his hand, like you’re desperately trying to get off solely from that.

“Dear God, I fucking love you.” Bucky bites the crook of your neck, but removes his finger from your pussy to grab your ass again. When he makes you come for the first time that night is going to be with his cock deep inside you, not his finger.

Breathing hard, you lean back and drop your leg. You quickly start working on his uniform. Not long after, you let out a frustrated groan. “Who the hell makes those?” You frown, fumbling with the complicated stripes.

“No time to deal with that right now,” Bucky states, and with ease, he handles you, ruthlessly, just like the way he knows you love, until he has you seated on the big and fluffy armrest of his couch.

He twists your legs to the side over the cushions, “Let me see that pretty pussy,” Bucky pants, voice thick with desire, lifting your dress just enough to give him the view and the access, “Shit…” he curses under his breath when he catches an eye of your glistening folds.

While he keeps himself on his feet, he works on his belt and zipper with one hand and holds your hips with the other. He absolutely loves the way you’re looking up at him, with that gaze of yours of sheer anticipation, lust and satisfaction he always saw in your eyes, but now, there’s something more. Something else… love. Hell, if that doesn’t make him even harder for you.

“You make me so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Bucky pulls his aching cock away from his confines and without waiting another second, he bends his knees a bit to align with your position and enters you.

“Holy shit,” you both gasp in unison.

At the comforting feeling of your warm and tight cunt - fucking finally - Bucky just holds back and, encouraged by the sweet begs coming from your lips, he supports one of his knees on the cushions, holds your hips still and starts fucking you. Right there, over the armrest of his couch, you both fully clothed, but desperate for each other.

You feel so damn good around his cock, and so damn beautiful with your cheek sunk deep on the sofa, your hands holding yourself on where you can, eyes closed and lips parted, sweet and filthy sounds coming out of you.

Bucky feels his core tighter and tighter and he knows he’s not gonna last long. He’s been waiting for this for so long, so desperately. He loves you so much. He wants you so much.

He tells you that, while he shoves his cock relentlessly inside you and leans down, not resisting to pull one stripe of your dress to expose one of your breasts to him. You cry out when he grabs the soft flesh. His hand moving in the same rhythm of his hips. Hard and deep.

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” you announce and, as soon as you open your eyes and your gaze meets his, your cunt squeezes his cock and you cry out. Not moving your hooded eyes away from his while you soak his cock with your climax.

Bucky is done for. If there had been any doubt of how much he’s a sucker for you, now it would be completely vanished.  But, in fact, there hasn’t been any doubt about that in him for a really long time.

Having held himself back for a while now, the look on your face and you calling him “baby” are enough to make his pace become erratic and drive him to his own release.  He moans and pants through the explosion of ecstasy, shoving his hips a few more times in you and filling you up with spurs of his pleasure.

You’re still fighting to breathe when Bucky leans over and crashes his mouth on yours, giving you a bruising kiss before sliding out of you and dropping his body on the couch next to you, not without pulling you with him.

He places you on his laps and you straddle his hips. You hold him, sinking your head on his neck, breathing him in. Your body shakes with the aftershocks of the pleasure you have just shared. The best orgasm he’s ever given you, the first one after you acknowledged and shared your feelings. Feels different… better… How you missed this… missed him…

“Enjoying our first date so far?” You ask, the sound of your voice coming out raspy and still breathless.

“Couldn’t be better,” he speaks, his hot breath fanning the skin of your neck.

You hold him even tighter and then giggle when you feel the wet touch of his tongue right there on the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck. You turn with the intention to kiss him and that’s when you realize he’s still in his mission uniform and you feel the fabric of your dress clinging to your skin, sticky with sweat.

You smile at him and brush your lips on his before getting up and, pulling him by the hand, you guide him to his bathroom.

This time he helps you with the strips of his gear and takes off your dress, before you two step into the shower. Nothing sexual happens, but that shared shower it’s one of the most intimate moments of your life. You leather him and he washes your hair. You play splashing water on him, and he kisses you. You hold him and he tells you he loves you.

After the shower you should’ve come back to the dining room and ordered your food, but he takes you to his bed instead.  

You get between his legs and suck his cock, slowly, reverently, peppering sweet and small kisses all over it until you swallow his pleasure. He kisses and licks and bites every little inch of you, savoring you like he promised he would. He makes you come with his tongue right before he enters you again. Forehead to forehead, breath to breath, skin to skin.

“I love you” is whispered repeatedly between harsh breaths and long and deep thrusts. His hands and lips on your skin. Your teeth on his. With his cock in your cunt and his finger on your clit he begs to see you come, to squeeze and soak his cock and, after you do, completely out of breath, he reaches his climax, too. Like he always does, he finds pleasure by giving you yours.

Your man. Your love. Your Bucky.

He stays beside you while he kisses you, neither of you willing to break the connection, yet.

When he looks down on you, there’s something of mischief on his loving gaze and on the beautiful smile on his lips, “So…Little Y/N missed me, too, huh?”

Your eyes widen for a second and you choke on your laugh, “No.” You shake your head while he laughs, “Don’t even start. Absolutely not… But goddammit, you’re cute,” you pull him to give him a smooch on his lips and then on his nose, “Now...” you say, while he keeps the adoring gaze down on you, “I love you so much. But can we move forward with our first date and eat something?” You cringe, “I’m starving and it’s all your fault. And Little Bucky’s.” You quickly add.

His head falls back and his nose scrunches in that adorable way of his while he laughs, “Alright, let’s go… but first,” he stops you with his lips on yours when you excitedly try to get up.

The kiss is long and soft and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The hell with food, you’re pretty sure everything you need is right there, on top of you, kissing you and loving you like that, making your heart flutter and turning your legs into jelly.

You almost whine when he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, “You know,” he whispers, “I found out that it’s not just my buddy down there who has a strict preference,” he smiles cheekily, and you can’t help but smile, too, before he puts on some playful and exaggerated drama on his voice, “Turns out, my poor old fragile heart has it, too, and I’m gonna need you to take good care of it.” He brings your hand over his chest, “Do we have a deal?”

Your smile grows even bigger, filled with love, before you give him your answer.

“Always.”

THE END.

~~~

A/N 2: There it is, guys, this was my attempt at writing some light and fun rom-com. I really hope some of you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It feels like I say this every time I finish a story, but I had so much fun writing it, this might be my favorite story so far. It’s definitely my favorite Bucky and I can’t part from him. That’s why I have a few oneshots planned so we can get a glimpse of their sexy adventures throughout their relationship, things that might’ve taken place during their deal, but also after what we’ve seen here in the main story.  

I can’t thank you enough for the incredible support I’ve received for this story, I feel so fortunate for having such amazing readers, who I consider as a very important part of my life. I tried to engage and interact with most of you, sorry if I ended up missing a few responses. I do read and reread the comments and asks often, though. You make my days brighter. Thank you. Love you.