#seriously I feel like this is a glitch in the matrix

[b-e-e-h-o-p]

Found another character that I think has the potential to be a Tumblr Sexyman and I’m thankful is not.

The villain from Robots. I forget his name but I’m surprised I haven’t seen anyone foam at the mouth for him.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

[msfcatlover]

In which I propose a new superpower for Jason Todd

Jason was resurrected by a ripple/fracture/break in space-time/reality. Significantly, he was resurrected physically to a moment right before his death (I’d argue right before the bomb went off, based on his injuries and specifically the lack of smoke-damage to his lungs allowing him to call out for Bruce from down in his grave) but he remembers dying. Some analysis even suggests that resurrection made him immortal, that his death was overwritten and cannot be rewritten in any way that will stick. Plenty of AUs speculate about this giving him a whole variety of powers, but I haven’t seen this one yet, so...

Jason Todd exists, physically, as every single version of himself that ever was, could have been, or ever could be. He is, in a way, outside of time, a permanent glitch in the metaphorical matrix. He is a very, very specialized kind of shapeshifter, able to hit fast forward or rewind on his own physical form whenever he wants, but his perception of time remains linear & constant---he can’t actually see the future or anything, and if he shifts to the time he was a corpse, he’s still trapped & aware inside of his nearly useless, rotting body. When he meets alternate versions of himself from parallel universes, he also learns of different paths his life could’ve gone down, allowing him to rewind to the point where that changed and then fast forward down that other path as far as he wants (once again, this does not grant him the memories of that alternate life, he is always the Jason who stole from Batman, became Robin, died in that warehouse, and came back with a vengeance.) Not something he gets much use out of, given how few of the alternate selves he’s met have useful powers of their own, but handy for hiding scars or changing his build slightly for undercover work.

No, what Jason got/gets/will get the most use out of is the rewind feature. It can heal wounds, as long as he removes the blade or bullet which will not be affected by his shifting, which is both very handy (in the case of the former) and very troublesome (when the latter means he can’t risk shifting at all if he’s been shot or hurt with shrapnel.) He comes back to Gotham as a ghost, the Robin they all remember him as, and haunts his family just irregularly enough to really throw them off their games in between antics as the Red Hood.

(He also did/does/will do it instinctively sometimes, losing track of what age he’s supposed to be and shifting to the one he currently feels like, or the one he wants to be. He almost always drops however many years back to his late teens whenever he’s being especially petty or underhanded. When he’s scared, he has to actively remember not to let himself literally shrink back to 14, when he was Robin & a Wayne and actually felt safe. Under fear toxin, it’s not uncommon to find Jason under ten years old, tiny & scared, trying to find somewhere small to hide. In the opposite direction, he often gets older when he wants people to take him seriously, because something Jason learned young is that nobody listens to people they think are children.)

(Needless to say, the full-face helmet is very useful, and he keeps the filters well maintained & at the bleeding-edge of bat-technology. Nightwing having to carry a sobbing six year old back to the cave for treatment should never, ever have happened even the one time, and Jason’s not about to let it happen again!)

He needs to remember to age at all, since he just hit/hits/will hit “pause” when he reaches the form he wants. He came out of the Lazarus Pit a glitchy, blurring mess of a thing, and it took a while before he was able to find a form that felt comfortable in the time he was now in (the body he would have had, if Bruce got there in time and took Jason to the al Ghuls to beg healing for his son’s wounds.) The further he gets from the current time/reality, the more uncomfortable a form was/is/will be to hold; like wearing a skin-tight suit that doesn’t quite fit, getting smaller the further he gets from “here & now.”

(Yes, that does mean Jason will inevitably experience ever-increasing discomfort as time goes on and he gets further from his original resurrection; he’s not supposed to be “here” right “now.” The longer it’s been since Jason Todd ceased to exist, the more out of place a living Jason Todd was/is/will be.)

[sheischerrybomb]

Roadhog seriously feels like he needs a proper rework to be viable in Overwatch 2. He’s felt ‘wrong’ to play every since I got back into Overwatch and this seems to be a popular opinion about our favorite hog man.

I hope Blizzard really are considering a rework or some kind of buff so he can fit into the Tank roll better EDIT: (I'm aware a lot of what I'm saying could also be implied with player ability but just roll with me on this) TLDR; Roadhog feels like he needs one or two good additions to his kit or needs an entire rework. It's not unheard of for Blizzard to do this with their characters so i think it's about time Roadhog got his turn. If you'd like to read my thoughts; One of the main changes I kept thinking of was giving Roadhog a proper way to negate damage like the majority of the tanks do. D.Va with her Defense Matrix, Reinhardt has his shiled, both Ramattra and Doomfist can literally block with their fists, and Orisa can Fortify. The only tank that doesn't have a proper block/negate of damage is Junker Queen and the common consensus I've seen is that she's the 'new' Roadhog so that's also a clear sign the poor boy needs a change. Roadhog doesn't have a proper way to block damage aside from being a bullet sponge with 700 health then use Take a Breather to regain and that just leaves him open to other attacks and Ults. It doesn't properly block damage for himself or teammates. Practically I'm not sure how Roadie can block without it being similar to Doom and Ram and I'm sure Blizzard doesn't want to repeat that same ability so I'm stumped on what the actual ability could be but the main role of a Tank is to take the bulk of incoming attacks to protect your team and Roadie simply doesn't have that ability. Other minor changes I think Blizzard could do has to deal with distance of his attacks, Roadie seems to be a very up close kind of Tank because his attack distance, to me, feels very lacking. Maybe an increase to distance and slight buff to damage output could help. His Hook always seems to be tricky when it comes to technical ability/glitches. I've seen it go through walls, Hook someone that was way out of range, and just simply hook the wrong person. Yet I still think a bit of an increase to the length could be beneficial. As far as his Ultimate goes I don't really have a comment on it since it's a knockback ultimate, I'm sure someone else has a good idea on what to do with it if it needs a change but his Ult seems to be alright for the most part, maybe some sort of change in damage but I just don't have anything to say on it. It's an alright Ultimate. Just some thoughts that came to mind, if y'all have any ideas or like what I came up with I'd love to know! Our boy Roadie deserves some serious TLC. <3

[giauthor]

EVIL SWEETNESS

Exclusive design created by torizss, for the fanfic “EVIL SWEETNESS”, PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME. Do not repost, do not reuse and do not copy.

Easter is coming and the bunny looks hungrier than usual. Jimin seems to have the perfect carrot for him, but will he get some eggs in return?

"I am standing straight and tall. My eyes are facing forward, and I am starving in the hall."

Genre: sex, hybrid x human, jealousy boyfriends, oneshot, easter, pwp.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Warnings/additional tags: Hybrids, Bunny Hybrid Jeon Jungkook, Top Jeon Jungkook/Bottom Park Jimin, Bottom Jeon Jungkook/Top Park Jimin, Top Jeon JungkookBottom Park Jimin (BTS), Gay Porn Hard, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Large Cock, Hardcore, Sexual Violence, Size Kink, Daddy Dom Jeon Jungkook, Porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Boyfriends, Jealousy, Sex and Chocolate, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dirty Talk, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Fucking, Cocky Jeon Jungkook, Overstimulation, Painful Sex, Possessive Sex, Possessive Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin Cries During Sex (BTS), Anal Plug, Butt Plugs, Wet & Messy

Oh no! Easter is coming and the eggs are suddenly gone! Can you help Jimin find them? Take care. I hear there's a mean, hungry rabbit on the prowl. But if you intend to follow, have a good Easter egg hunt!

Ps.: don't forget to read the warnings to prevent the rabbit from getting his teeth in you.

WARNINGS:

To get the best out of Easter evil sweetness, read the warnings.

1. This is a fictional work. Nothing written here has any connection with the reality of the people or other works that inspired the creation of this and the characters.

2. Respect is good and everyone likes it.

3. It's basically a porn without a plot, between a rabbit hybrid and a human, in a short single chapter. If you don't like it, get the hell out. There's no place for you here!

4. I don't accept adaptations. Plagiarism is a crime.

5. The story is +18, but it's up to everyone's conscience to read.

6. About triggers: the work has short, implicit and explicit descriptions of sexual relations, comments and profanity, and more. If you feel uncomfortable, DO NOT READ!

7. This wasn't created with the intention of offending any religion or religious commemoration. The cited event is only a starting point, without any relevance in the development of the story.

In addition, prepare a bottle of water because this is getting really - hot - sweet, and, take good care of your plants, or the Dr. poison will pay you a visit that is not pleasant.

Otherwise, I suggest you prepare some carrots to bargain with the rabbit during your egg hunt.

Unless you want him to become the hunter...

Oh, are you looking for some eggs? Don't be scared, I have the perfect duo for you...

“Dear Bunny, will you stop, stop, stop?”

PARK JIMIN

"Shit, where are you?" I mutter, rummaging around from the freezer to the pastry cupboards. "Seriously! I left for five minutes!"

Two nights. That's all I have to prepare for the city's Easter event, which I was responsible for making the children's eggs. And right now I'm freaking out because all those chocolates I tempered just a few minutes ago and let to rest on top of the benches, while I went to get the decorative items at the neighboring store, have simply disappeared.

Or someone was crazy enough to come in here and steal just that, because the cash register remains intact, or there was a glitch in the matrix and the chocolates went to another dimension.

Anyway, I have to find them, which is a very bad joke, because the easter egg hunt would start with me.

It was everything I needed, one more delay in my routine, when all I wanted was to get this job done to finally be able to visit my boyfriend, after endless days without seeing him. I feel that every bit of my body is gradually dying of longing.

I remove my apron, placing it on the clean reception desk as I try to retrace my every step. What's worse is that the kitchen is all dirty, and there are traces of my mess everywhere.

Well, regardless of what happened while I was away, I'm sure some traces were left along the way.

I walk over to the counters where I've left the chocolates cooling, looking for footprints or fingerprints on the surface, but there's nothing.

Except for…

"What is this here?" I approach the marble, finding a small white thread trying to camouflage itself in the dark stone. "A fur?"

I frown, confused.

This isn't so common. In the whole city, there is only one coat as soft, fine and shiny as this one.

"It can't be… can it?" I ask, rushing to the fridge to take the test, feeling myself go cold from head to toe as the possibility surrounds me.

I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to make too much noise, as I studied the mark left on the refrigerator door handle. The print of the tip of two big fingers, made with milk chocolate.

I barely realize I'm holding my breath as I carefully open the door, quickly scanning the bottom drawer for other prints. The surprise to find it dirty with chocolate on the outside, and empty on the inside, is instantaneous.

My carrots are gone!

Wait, it's worse.

If the rumors are right, and I'm not crazy, the Easter Bunny paid me a visit, and devoured them without leaving a single gnawed piece.

"This is crazy." I say to myself, trying to come up with another alternative, because I can't believe this really happened.

He can't honestly be real, can he?

I remember, then, what Mr. Martín, organizer of the Easter event, said to me: The Easter in Chocolate City is magical. Every year we receive the honorable visit of the rabbit. Nobody knows what it looks like, only that it is real, due to the white, soft, fine and shiny hairs it leaves behind. It is a unique coat, unmistakable. You'll recognize it right away once you find it.

I hug my own body, feeling chills.

I turn away from the appliance, finally noticing a few drops of chocolate splattered across the floor. Is this a trail?

I start to follow the trail, which winds down the stairs to the basement. Which is, in fact, my warehouse, where I store some materials that must stay at a more balanced temperature, without interference from the sun. Weirdly, at an ideal temperature for a rabbit…

With each step I take, my heartbeat speeds up even more. Now, standing in front of the door, I grip the handle with trembling hands, counting to ten, front to back and backwards, in somewhat futile preparation to open it.

Before going on, I take my cell phone out of my pocket and unlock it, putting it on my boyfriend's text message to tell him to come look for me urgently, in the candy store, if I don't get to his place by midnight.

Better to be safe than sorry, after all, you never know what could happen.

Come on Jimin, two seconds of courage.

I turn the handle carefully, trying not to make too much noise, opening a gap to peek before slowly pushing the door open. I see some carrots that have fallen and are covered in chocolate on the floor, creating another trail, this time towards a huge counter that is in the corner of the wall.

I open the door wider, afraid to see what's there, but all the caution in the world hasn't been able to prepare me for what I see.

A human body lying on the marble. With huge bunny ears, and intense red eyes. There's a half rabbit man, naked from head to toe, in my storage room! With only the intimacy covered by a slightly large hand.

A hand that makes me shiver because I know it so well, as soon as I get over the feel of it on my skin.

I shudder, trying to process the information.

I'm looking at the fucking easter bunny. Which is a hell of a bunny, to be honest. And on top of that, I've known him for years.

It's Jeon Jungkook, my boyfriend.

The same one who's staring at me hungrily lighting those seductive eyes, elbow resting on the counter and two chocolate-smeared fingers plunging wantonly into his mouth.

The mirror behind him, reflecting the broad, muscular back, and the fleshy bottom, adorned by a round, bushy tail in the middle. The wet ass, honeyed by a transparent liquid that runs along its entire length, going against the surface of the counter.

Suddenly I feel a wet nuisance between my legs. It's official. Fuck the surprise I had! I'm hard, dripping, at this disturbingly sensual image.

"My plan was to just eat those carrots, but none of 'em look as delicious as yours." murmurs. The tone is low and seductive enough to weaken my legs, and he knows it well, as he looks directly at them, commanding, "C'mon, baby, hurry up. I'm starving."

I swallow hard, walking slowly towards him as the door closes behind me. My heart is racing, my hands are sweaty, and my erection is about to pop out of my boxers.

Jungkook is looking directly at me, whereupon he wiggles his ears, and slowly uncovers his dick, showing me how excited he is too.

I think the egg hunt is over.

He smirks, slutty, reaching a clean hand up to the fake bunny tail, pulling it off, revealing the plug that was buried in his luscious ass.

My mouth waters as I see a clear drop fall from the tip of the toy before he inserts it back in, closing his eyes and opening his mouth as he groans teasingly.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I quicken my pace, cutting all that distance between us.

"You're not havin' fun without me." I warn, and tossing the phone onto the marble, I unbuckle my belt and unbutton my pants, letting them fall to the floor along with my boxers.

Satisfied, he reopens his eyes, sitting on the counter and pulling me in by the waist.

"Oh, don't worry, love. The fun's up to you." He says, pressing his mouth to mine as he wraps his legs around me, crushing our erections in the small space between us.

The kiss is sweet, hot, and wild, as if he were taking out on me all the longing for the several days we were away. I miss it too, but my dick does it so much more, and that's why I'm cutting the ceremonies.

Flustered, I bring my hands to his legs, pulling him closer to the edge and opening him up for me. I pull out the plug, crushing the fake plush between my fingers and the marble as I push myself into him, yearning for it. All under Jungkook's teasing gaze, who knows I won't last that long.

Fuck, he's soaking wet, squeezing me all over, sighing and pursing his lips as he takes me in.

I thrust my hips hard, making the things on the counter shake. With each movement, a piece of my sanity slips away, leaving me completely mad with pleasure.

I lean over Jungkook, bracing my hands on the surface, picking up the pace. His hands run straight to the back of my neck, pulling me in for one more kiss. The majestic tongue sliding between my lips and the taste of chocolate invading me even more than before.

This is so good.

Being inside him is one of the highlights of my life. It's unreal. Indescribable.  The way he's sweet in my mouth while writhing around me always drives me crazy.

I can't believe I've been able to live all these days without being able to feel him like this, squeezing me and panting softly. So submissive that it makes me realize how tricky he is, and it makes me happy to know that it will soon pass, because Jungkook likes to dominate me. And I'm a sucker for the way he commands my body and my actions as he buries himself inside me.

Shit, I need that too.

I grab his hips, returning to the posture I was before, this time being more violent, pushing hard enough to make his body jerk, and the noises he makes in response tell me I hit the right place.

"Oh, yes…" he moans, wrapping his hand around his thick cock and arching his spine, making me go even deeper, hitting him again and again until I bring him to his orgasm.

I keep penetrating, in intense and light thrusts, balls hitting against his ass and reproducing a slapping sound that drives me crazy. The longing was so much that I couldn't stand it, and soon I poured myself into him, feeling his walls caging me up as I slowed down the rhythm.

I close my eyes, hands braced on the counter, trying to catch my breath, blowing out heavy gusts of air.

When I open them again, he's smiling at me mischievously. There's evil in his gaze, and I can't wait to taste his perversion, knowing he's about to take me apart.

I pull out of him, watching him sit back down across from me, pulling me in for a quieter kiss. On the other hand, his fingers are fast, masterfully unbuttoning my shirt, leaving chocolate stains made by the dirty hand.

I can't help it when his mouth drops from my lips to kiss and suck the skin of my neck and shoulder as I melt all over, moaning.

"Mmm… I missed you so much." I murmur, voice hoarse with pleasure.

"Oh, you did?" He asks, teasing me with his mischievous tongue, licking my earlobe before pulling it between his teeth in a gentle bite. I'm so limp, I can only answer him with a sigh. "Hm, Park?"

The way he says my name… Damn it. It makes me hard as fuck.

"Yeah?" I whisper, not sure how the words made their way out of my mouth, as I'm too weak to speak.

He gets me that way so easily.

"How much did you miss me, hm?" He asks, blowing warm air across my skin as he rubs his lips back and forth, waiting for an answer. "How much, babe?" Insists, getting down from the counter with his body next to mine, now looking at me from above.

I'm attracted by the red color of his eyes, which stare at me as if they are devouring my soul, at the same time that his erection rubbing against me is devouring my sanity.

"A lot." I answer.

I can't take my eyes off his.

It's like temptation is pulling me through that wicked, reddish glow.

“Enough to take me ‘till the sun rises, babe?”

Yes. Please.

"I heard rabbits don't last long." I tease him, still unaccustomed to the fact I just found out, but using it to my advantage.

He knows what I'm doing.

I love when he feels provoked, because he loses all gentleness.

And the loss of his gentleness results in much more intense orgasms.

Shaking his head in denial, Jungkook replies, with a mischievous smile: "I'll teach you something about rabbit resistance, love." Shit, his voice is so erotic it makes me feel him everywhere. My legs wobble when he adds, "It isn't the same as a hybrid's."

Yeah, now that I've discovered his secret, I'm aware of just how much longer a hybrid lasts in bed.

"But there is something rabbits and hybrids have in common." He goes back to talking, using that dirty tone as he rubs his thumbs across my nipples. Hell, the roughness in his touch leaves me unable to think. "We're excellent at biting, babe." My mind, although almost completely dysfunctional, wanders, imagining the things his wicked little mouth can do. Nothing compares to what he has in mind, turning me sharply against the counter, leaning over my body and blowing, against my goose bumps, his malicious promise: "And I'm going to eat you up like it's my last meal."

Fuck.

He promised, his lips brushing my back seconds before he nipped at my flesh.

My cock is dripping onto the counter just as his is slicking my upper ass. It's so indecent, that, shit , all this friction is already making me hard again… I'm on my toes, rubbing my ass against his erection, my body seething with anticipation. And he is, slowly, kissing and scratching with his teeth all the way down my back until he reaches my bottom.

With the chocolate-smeared hand, he grabs my waist tightly as he crouches down, using his other hand to cup one side of my ass, opening myself so close to his face that I can feel his hot, heavy, horny breath coming to me. I lean over the marble, seeking support when my legs begin to lose strength, as I feel his teeth mark me mercilessly while thrusting his thumb into me, just enough to tease me.

His fingers massage me, making me melt, wanting them inside me urgently. I feel his mouth slide from my balls to my hole, licking and sucking me, and deftly pressing my perineum midway. It's so good that I feel my nerves snapping.

It doesn't take long before he surrounds the area with the muscle, pushing his tongue inside me.

He has his face buried in my ass as he fucks me with his mouth. The big hands cupped, one on each side of my bottom, holding me firmly, and making sure I stay upright.

If it weren't for them, I would have really collapsed to the ground.

I close my eyes, reveling in the massage inside me. 

Fuck, he's acting like he is really fucking me, thrusting his thumb in and out until it's causing small, uncontrollable tremors in my legs. He knows it's time to move on when he feels me throb around his tongue and finger, and I love how he wastes no time.

Jeon pulls away, standing up and giving me a push to stand up too. I immediately felt his hot erection poke me. I blink slowly, taking a deep breath and allowing myself to relax before receiving it. With the clean hand, Jungkook masturbates his own cock, slamming it against my flesh, making me even more anxious, and then, holding one of the sides of my ass, he starts pushing against me. Hard and wet. As slowly as he can, squeezing in.

His hand massages my bottom as I try to get used to the invasion, pressing my lips together to try to stifle a moan of pain. He grips my jaw, forcing me to turn my face to kiss him as he slowly enters me. The kiss relaxes me, and as soon as I feel less tense, he withdraws, leaving only the head, before thrusting in again, a little less slowly.

It's a little painful, but the pleasure is so much greater that it masks everything.

"Shit, babe, you're crushing me all over." groans, suffering, leaving and entering slowly.

Yeah, fucking Jungkook is amazing.

But nothing compares to the insane feeling of being devoured by him.

Staring at myself through the mirror, I notice all the impressions his ravenous teeth and ganache dirty palm have left on my body. Bite marks turning a darker color, and the shape of his chocolate-coated palm, stand out against my skin.

He smiles, noticing what I’m doing, happy with his work but not satisfied enough to stop.

I watch him reach for the freshly melted bowl of ganache he stole from me, sticking three fingers in the syrup, then withdrawing his hand and bringing it towards my face. He rubs his thumb over my lower lip, so immorally it makes me think of his cum-filled finger, smearing my mouth and chin. I slide my tongue between my lips, tasting the sweet chocolate that washes over me in bulk as he grips my jaw and dips his other two fingers into my mouth, cupping my face. And he continues sticking his cock in me, while he puts me to suck all the sweetness in his hand.

"Is it tasty, Park?" He asks, looking at me through the mirror, his mouth close to my ear. I can't even answer, the noise caused by the jolts, the creaking counter and my moans makes any response from me inaudible. But his voice is loud and steady, close to my ear, when he says, "You taste better."

Jungkook removes his fingers from my mouth, which leave accompanied by a trail of saliva, before bringing his hand to the back of my neck, gripping it and pushing me against the surface once more. His eyes remain locked on my reflected image, and it’s looking at my reddened face pressed against the marble, my eyes watering and my mouth slightly open, that he finds the strength to hit me harder.

"Fuck, so much better." groans, squeezing my hip so hard I'm amazed his fingerprint isn't already planted there.

I bite my lip, trying to contain my moans, but my attempt to be silent is interrupted by a vibration on the marble. It's my cell phone. Receiving a call.

Please! Stop vibrating.

"It's Martin." Jeon warns, slowing down the thrusts.

There's a tone of amusement in his voice, and I'm well aware of his intentions.

I'm sure of each one as I see his hand grip my phone, sliding his finger across the screen before bringing the device up to my ear. My mouth is closed while I try to control my breathing, listening to Mr. Martín calling me from the other side.

"Jimin, are you there? What's that noise? Is everything okay?" He snaps, looking genuinely concerned.

Yes I am. The noise is nothing but my fucking boyfriend bending me over the counter and fucking my ass, but I'm fine, thanks.

I clear my throat before speaking.

"Yes, Mr. Martín. Do you need something?" I answer, avoiding the middle question, doing my best to hide my trembling voice and labored breathing.

"Jimin, is everything okay?" He insists, only hearing a “uh-um” from me. "I was wondering if you managed to finish the eggs yet."

I'm about to answer him, but I have to stifle a sudden scream that almost rips from my throat, when Jungkook hits my prostate with a bang, and sure enough, on purpose.

"I'm still tempering the chocolates, but don't worry, everything will be finished in time." I say, hoping he didn't notice the creaking noise of Jeon bumping against me, the counter creaking with every movement, and the puffs of air I let out between sentences.

"Okay, thank you." He ends the conversation quickly, looking like he believes it.

Maybe he thought that all the noise and my irregular breathing was due to the fake job I'm having. At least that's what I hope.

"Goodnight…" I quickly say goodbye, letting out a cry as I'm thrust hard.

I don't even know if the call ended before Jungkook took the phone away from my ear, but the way he's smiling at me now, I'm guessing Martín heard my scream. Bastard. He likes it.

Jeon sighs, tilting his head down, one large hand landing at the base of my spine. He's slowing down, starting to throb and spill himself inside me, moaning softly. I'm drawn to the pained expression on his face, the closed eyes, the big bunny ears twitching, and the strands of hair wet from the sweat running down his forehead.

I want more. A lot more.

That's what he screams at me through the depraved gleam that crosses his red eyes when he opens them again, meeting mine in the mirror's reflection.

"You dumped me for work again, Jimin." suddenly blurts out, drawing my attention.

I know, I know.

Shit, I've arranged to do things with him several times and I've faltered. He's so right.

"You know this division isn't working well, right?" He inquires, moving back inside me. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open, but it's gliding on so well, and the pleasure is so much that my eyelids are starting to feel heavy. I allow myself to close my eyes, just nodding in affirmation. "I want all your time, babe." He demands, thrusting his hand through my strands, gripping my hair tightly. He keeps pushing in slowly, declaring, "Don't forget that you are mine."

Only yours, love.

"I think Martín will understand if there is a delay." is the last thing he says before picking up the pace and fulfilling the promise he made to me earlier.

Martín will be delighted to know that I was late because the rabbit visited me tonight.

With the omission of details, of course.

I would never let him know that the hunt started with me, and that the eggs ended up buried in my ass.

THE END.

© All rights reserved by giauthor.tumblr.com.

GIAUTHOR on AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[c03xistentw01]

Today y'all. Was a very special day.

I saw Ashkan.

The guy I used to cry over. I remember the day I cried over his graduation photos so bad, curled up in bed. Sure that I'll never see him ever again in my life.

He saw me. Came to me on the portello bridge and hugged me so warmly. Not a formal dry hug, a cosy friendly one. Warm. Reminding you of home.

I'm so happy I saw him. I dont know if it's a curse or a blessing that now I dont remember how much I used to love him. I bet hella lot. I wanted kids. I seriously fucking did.

At some point when walking in Via Altinate we lowkey hugged again when talking about Afsharchi.

I told him about Leone. He told me why he had broken up with Kiana. And how he did used to date Negin.

I feel like today was like some glitch in the matrix. Like it should not have happend. It doesn't match with my anxiety of old days.

[safarigirlsp]

Because you are an outstanding writer with the most creative imagination who doesn’t get enough recognition, I was curious what your thoughts are. I find it intriguing that in the AD/Kylo fandom with so many people on social media becoming published authors, it’s hurting readers when the fanfics are purged. We experienced that in droves when TRoS was released where people who were known for being top tier suddenly became anti Kylo because Disney told them to and all their fics were purged from Ao3 and everywhere else without a trace. Instead of anyone else acknowledging that they ceased to exist, when asked around, no one could say who the writers were to begin with, like a glitch in the Matrix. It’s a shame because a lot of the stories were very entertaining and you could tell they were written with love. Now it’s considered that you are not “quality” or valid to even try to get to know unless you have a publishing contract which also means deleting all traces of the original fan fics that people loved without warning. Regardless of the actual quality of the fics, which is in the eye of the beholder, it would be like the fandom a person grew to enjoy the talent and camaraderie of coming to a screeching halt because SafariGirlSP decided she wanted to attempt making a living from fanfic, which includes deleting all fics ever written and any contact with said readers. Why should that be what we (collectively) as Kylo fans strive for, when that only hurts the fandom in the end? It sends the message that (general) you don’t matter to anyone as someone worth taking the time to read and enjoy your creativity unless you are getting it monetized full stop.

Hi!

Thank you for the wonderful compliment about my stories! It's nice to heard that people out there read them and enjoy them. It really makes me happy when people find my stories creative and enjoyable!

I have absolutely no experience with the Kylo fic phenomenon, and I wasn't really active on here until covid, but I'll take your word for it. So, I don't know what other fans or writers strive for, or really even what they get out of writing. I can only tell you what it means for me personally, and I am happy to do so.

My personal goals with writing fics here have always been utilitarian and twofold. Firstly, I work in a writing intensive area and when covid hit, my workload slowed and then has since converted to different mediums, which has been wonderful! But my initial reason for taking prompts and writing fics was solely to keep myself in shape for writing 5k words a day on a topic that was dropped on me last minute. So, it was fun to be sure and topics I enjoyed, but the point for me was to keep those writing muscles in shape for work. Then, I decided that I wanted to try to pursue writing professionally, and since then, my stories here have been simple practice and skill-honing. The best way to get good at something is practice, and that's how I view this. In the last year or so with this in mind, I've been taking my writing and stories more seriously in terms of trying to create something that I feel is of quality. That has been exponentially more productive and rewarding for me than anything in the past.

I do love my ridiculous stories, of course. But frankly, it's all the same to me if these stories just live in my head and play out over and over in my mental reels, because they certainly do. I don't need to write them down for my personal enjoyment or fulfillment, and I really don't care about faceless notes and interactions.

The actual mechanical writing is work, plain and simple, and for me, there needs to be a tangible reason to put in work that will, ideally, yield dividends. Writing requires an investment of time, and I put a lot of time and thought into my writing. I work full time, have relationships, pets, and a fairly full life, and this is how I choose to spend most of my free time instead of watching TV or goofing off online or even just vegging out lol. I don't spend my time writing just to say that I've written some stupid story, I do it because I hope it will benefit me in the future in tangible ways. I'm inherently very lazy lol, so if I'm putting in effort, I want to get something out of it other than a warm and fuzzy feeling. I can go to the gym for that and be better off lol. Like most people, I hate my job, even though I have a fairly good one, and I would love to make money writing instead! Two of my great friends here have similar goals - to write professionally - so, this seems like a very normal goal to me. The idea of all of us becoming published authors one day is very exciting and motivating!

I have always read a lot of novels, my favorite genres are action, adventure, and horror. After writing here for a while, I realized that I can write just as well if not better than most of my favorite authors whom I have loved and idealized for years. None of these are new authors I would expect many here to know, and most are frankly old men who have been dead for years lol. But with the practice I've gotten through writing fics here, I feel that I can now go toe to toe with most of my favorites, which has been the most gratifying feeling I've ever gotten from writing.

The idea of thinking myself capable of writing novels and choosing not to pursue it does not resonate with me. If there are people that upsets, that is unfortunate, but it will hardly change my personal goals. Conversely, the idea that anyone would not want to encourage someone to fulfill their best potential seems odd and contrary to me. I also think it's unrealistic for me to bank on 'making it' in any sort of entertainment venue that relies on other people wanting what I'm selling, but it's still worth a shot.

Most of my stories here are not things that I consider worthy of trying to turn into a novel, so if that's a concern, it's misplaced. I only have two or three stories that I've posted here that I think are both original enough and of substantial enough quality to consider novelizing. So far, the novel projects I'm working on are original ideas that use the skills I've developed here and of course, the characters I love for templates.

Some of my stories are still purely for fun here too. Like my Mills fic, Maneater. It's a total fan fic hack job of Jurassic Park that could never be published, although maybe I could scavenge some isolated scenes here and there. I still want to structure it well and write it well with what I consider Grade A work from me because it still serves as practice, but that's an example of something I just wanted to write to scratch an itch and post for fun. I'm revamping a pirate fic now that's similar because it's too close to POTC, and man am I kicking myself for not making it more original initially lol. I think it's turning into one of the better things I've written.

Lastly, I mean this as no offence to anyone in particular and certainly not to you and your kind message, but I really don't understand the concept of the fandom to which you're referring. I personally don't feel like I'm a part of any fandom at all, aside from having similar taste in men to other people whom I don't know at all. I have a few friends that I've made here for whom I am very grateful. But I only know about twenty-five or so people who have ever even talked to me off of anon. So when people talk about fandom, that's really my exposure to what feels like a fandom to me - about twenty-five people here who I know and deeply appreciate, and about three-thousand more people who follow me but whom I don't know and who have never said a word to me or left a comment about one of my fics. I don't even know if I have 3k humans or bots following me lol! So, if you're asking if I feel loyalty to hordes of people who read my stories but never send me so much as a comment or an ask about them, the answer has to be No lol. I might feel differently if there was more genuine interaction here, but it seems to be trending in the opposite direction for all of us.

I've thought very seriously about taking all my stories down across all platforms regardless of whether or not I ever get published because I really don't like the idea of people just reading my content and not even feeling inspired enough to send a comment. This might sound strange, but it feels a little bit like stripping and parading around nude in front of an open window, knowing that there are a lot of people who are going to see something that is of value to me and personal to me, but also knowing they don't care enough to say a word about it to me.

I've also thought about creating a private blog and only sharing my content with the people who have interacted with me currently and in the past, and someday I may do just that. Honestly, the only thing that stops me is sheer laziness.

Regardless, I appreciate your comments about my writing and that you feel it's worthy enough to warrant your message. Please feel free to send me a message any time!

Halloween is usually my favorite time of year and my most productive for fics. I'm currently trying to think of some fun ideas to write and post here, so hopefully it will be a fun spooky season for fics!

[medievalraven]

but what are your fandoms hmmmmmmmmm we can only recycle GG so much -- and Queen of the South

Dude, like I know???? My attention is very short and there are so many shiny things.

[haleigh-sloth]

Being an absent father has its advantages.....lol

So I think everyone has kind of come to the agreement that, while it’s super shitty that Endeavor isn’t there to face his son, it’s also probably for the best.

I’m going to double down on that and say that there is absolutely no better way for this to have gone. Why? Because Endeavor not being there provided an opportunity for something new, something that was never going to happen, had he actually fulfilled his responsibility and shown up.

What is happening this chapter? Well we see Touya saying something really heartbreaking:

And we see Touya identifying with the League, and lumping himself in with them for the first time. And who is this all being directed toward? Shouto. Honestly probably the last person Touya wanted to see here, since he was ready to take on his dad right then and there. But he’s not just ranting AT Shouto, he’s explaining himself. He’s explaining his actions, motives, his feelings. It’s literally the complete opposite of how he explained himself when facing Hawks, when he hid behind Stain’s ideals, and denied having any personal connection to the League:

AND! Not only that, Touya finally titled himself correctly, Shouto’s big brother <3

I don’t know what it is about Shouto, but being there brought out a side of Touya that we haven’t seen. Not only is Touya (accurately) explaining himself, but he’s also answering questions. Shouto asked him something really personal just right off the bat:

Something we’ve all been wondering, something the rest of the Todofam is wondering. Shouto just went in for the kill, and Touya decided to actually answer:

Now seriously, ask yourselves, would ANY of this have been able to happen if Endeavor were there? I’m gonna answer that for you–No. It wouldn’t have.

But everything I listed up top is the obvious. We already knew all of that. What I want to double down on is the fact that Endeavor being absent, yet again, is not a mistake, a blip in the narrative, a glitch in the matrix, or a lapse in Shouto’s judgment.

Shouto isn’t really ever shown to be like Midoriya or Iida or even Touya himself in battle, who charge in senselessly without calculating. Shouto kind of learned his lesson very early on not to hold everything in and only depend on himself. So Shouto choosing to be there without Endeavor? That’s not a hasty decision, not to me at least.

I think Shouto decided that it actually is better to handle this without Endeavor. Maybe not entirely alone, but definitely without Endeavor. Why? Because what was Shouto’s INITIAL reaction as soon as he woke up in the hospital?

Literally the FIRST thing Shouto decided was that HE had to do it. Just him.

But alas, a talk with his hurting, grieving, confused family changed his mind which resulted in him making, what I consider, a miscalculated decision:

I always thought it was a bit odd that Shouto avoided eye contact with his dad when reaching out like this. Like….we all knew when these chapters came out that it just wasn’t going to go as smoothly as the Todofam was hoping. We knew, Shouto knew.

And what happens after Shouto decided to include his dad in what was originally supposed to be his own quest?

Well, we see Endeavor avoiding responsibility by focusing on someone else’s kid. We see Endeavor dodging Shouto’s phone calls because quite frankly, Endeavor knows he is the worst person for this job. We see Shouto confronting his father to “do it together” countless times, only for his requests to be ignored over and over and over again.

And lastly, Shouto going back and forth on how to even address his brother.

Touya? Or Dabi?

Not saying Shouto doesn’t deserve a good internal struggle on the situation. He probably doesn’t know what the hell he’s gonna do or how, just that he has to try. And Touya’s words this chapter definitely fall in line with my belief that Shouto needs to separate himself from his father in his brother’s eyes (more of a deep dive on this here and here). But my point is, Endeavor being involved during the Deku solo arc did nothing but hold Shouto back, probably contributing to Shouto not entirely knowing how to go about the situation (hence going back and forth on Touya/Dabi), and prolonging the process of finding Touya and starting this long overdue conversation.

To me, Shouto choosing to be there without his dad was not a mistake and it’s not something that needs to be fixed or mended, or redone. I think Shouto knew that this was honestly the best way, the only way. Because without Endeavor, Shouto can actually exchange words with his brother. Whereas in the war arc, that just wasn’t an option because the second Endeavor fell unconscious, Touya dipped. And when Endeavor was awake even, Touya wasn’t willing to talk, he just wanted to burn.

At the end of the day, it was always going to be Shouto doing this without Endeavor–AT FIRST. This isn’t me saying Endeavor won’t show up and play his part. He definitely will somehow. He has to. But looking back at the Deku solo arc, Endeavor made absolutely zero progress. He stayed stagnant, and Shouto himself noticed this. And Shouto said it himself, that it was his own choice to be there, not because he was ordered to.

Shouto chose to be there because he knows that he is the only one who can do anything even remotely good for his brother.

[bitchcraftmagic]

Every day I become more and more fearful of the growing conspiracy world. My own parents have fallen down the rabbit hole of the conspiracy force fed to them through the false reality created by fascistic media conglomerates. TikTok girlies spout strange delusions about the constant threat of kidnapping by a shadowy sex trafficking ring. Even people going on and on about the Mandela effect nonsense make me want to scream. In a world with ever mounting real world issues so many people would prefer to live in imaginary terror beyond their control.

I am, by nature, an extremely credulous person. I am hard pressed to believe in anything beyond the tangible. But that doesn’t mean I am beyond conspiratorial thinking, on the contrary it can make me more dogged in my more outlandish beliefs. I am my father’s child in this way. But what makes the difference, what makes me less inclined to conspiracy is my ability, my desire, to explore discomfort. I want to know, I want to understand, the things that make me uncomfortable. Conspiracy requires a slavish devotion to comfort.

Conspiracy only thrives because it is affirmation. The Mandela effect only captures the imagination because it’s harder to digest that human memory is very fallible and usually not that accurate at all. You remember the Berenstain Bears wrong because you were a child and children aren’t very good at reading or remembering things. People remember Mandela dying in the 90s because he was released from prison around that time and big news about non-Western world leaders usually has to do with their death. It was in the news, people weren’t that checked in especially in the US because we are generally self centered assholes and they assumed the big news was that he died. The end. Believing in alternate timelines is easier than confronting your own faults. It’s so much easier to say “oh that was a glitch in the Matrix” than to admit that you’re not good at remembering things and you didn’t really care that much about Nelson Mandela, a person you should probably care about. It’s comfortable. Realizing you were kind of an oblivious asshole is not.

It feels like a “harmless” conspiracy at the end of the day. So what? Thinking about the multi-verse is fun! Right? Except the reality we live in right now is important and real and happening around us and needs attention. The existence of a world where children’s stories go by a slightly different name is irrelevant and, frankly, not as interesting as you think it is. We are experiencing THIS reality. Not anything else. Falling into the trap that our inconsistent memory is good, actually, gets us into trouble. Human memory is faulty. Very faulty. So faulty that it can’t be taken too seriously. It gets people convicted of crimes they didn’t commit. It gets them killed. It causes people to dispute reality because we remember emotions better than we remember lived truth. The sooner we reckon with the fact that our memory needs to be questioned, needs to be taken with a grain of salt, the sooner we can tackle some real world shit. But that’s uncomfy, and it’s hard. It’s so much easier to be sure in our memory.

I had a friend in college who used to like to get me worked up by talking about the Matrix as if it were real. And it worked. It could still work, honestly. It is, to me, the most frustrating conspiracy because it is utterly meaningless. We are living in this reality. We are experiencing this world. The “simulation” doesn’t change a thing! I still experienced grief. I still experience trauma, joy, love, fury, desperation, humor, ecstasy, and pain. It doesn’t matter whether it was “real” and if we live in this false sense of unreality what motivates us to change? To experience and explore the discomfort of our reality if it isn’t even real? It’s so much more comfortable to think that I can’t make a significant change in the world because it isn’t even real. And aren’t all the people trying to make the world better hilarious! Don’t the know it doesn’t matter! Don’t they know nothing matters! What dumb assholes, huh?

God, it makes my blood fucking boil.

I could talk about QANON or other more prominent and starkly awful conspiracies but I think most folks who aren’t consumed by the right wing media understand is dangerous and foolish. But I find it more important to talk about these less focused conspiracies. They are not discussed, usually, with much negativity because they are “fun” and “interesting” but at the end of the day they achieve the same goal as other more obviously dangerous conspiracy theories. They divorce you from reality, from lived experience. They paralyze you from trying to make real and effective change. They let you live in a strange comfort, that it is all out of your control, that there is another world where other things run smoothly I’m just not living there any longer. There is no other world there is only this imperfection. But we can change it, we can shift the needle but in order to do that we need to live here and no where else. The fantasy must die. Discomfort needs to be embraced if there is any hope of making this world a better one to be in.

[starry-skies-116]

Greetings, I've another thing to report!

Oh golly, an update!

Literally just tried bringing this up with my mom about how my memory lapses made me ghost an IRL friend by complete accident- he had texted me, and I literally SWORE I texted him back, but oh, turns out I didn’t! Yet another ‘glitch in the matrix’ type situation!

Guess what she said in response to such a humiliating moment?: ‘You’re not supposed to text your friends when they’re probably studying. Also, everyone forgets things sometimes, it’s fine.’

Really, Mumma? Seriously? Is that the absolute best you can do? Appreciate the attempt to help, but it was still a poor attempt!

I’m doing relatively fine now, but my anxiety still tells me that my memory lapses and low-executive functioning, as well as my lack of task and time management and dismal organization skills are literally going to ruin my life later down the line. A few years before it was absolutely terrible- I was in a situation where I couldn’t remember what I said or did just moments ago. I was constantly understimulated, depressed, having absolute meltdowns not knowing what in the entire universe was ‘wrong’ with me.

Every single day I was near-catatonic to the point where my body was on autopilot, feeling like a failure- that I would never be enough because simple things that other people did so easily were so hard for me. It got to the point where I didn’t even want to get out of bed some days.

And people dismissed it as me being the ‘wierd lazy and forgetful kid’ or ‘not pulling myself together’.

I’m much better now, again- I sort of have my act together for the most part, but I’m just scared my symptoms are going to be exacerbated, since I’m off my meds (have been for a long time) and I’m going into junior year of High School. My parents believe I don’t require medication or therapy for my condition anymore, since ‘it goes away when you’re 14’. Disclaimer, though- I get that medication and therapy is incredibly expensive, and most psychologists and doctors don’t offer effective treatment for ADHD at all- mine sure as hell doesn’t, she holds me to neurotypical standards and advises me to use planners when I’ve clearly told both her and my parents that I’ve tried that multiple times and it doesn’t work. Every damn time.

I’ve been self-managing my symptoms and masking for quite a while, but I’m so genuinely terrified it’ll all backfire and that ADHD will ruin my life, my relationships, my health, my education and me once more.

Not to mention that I’m going to be taking the SAT soon.

Even despite just an educational IEP to support me, I don’t want everything to shatter and crumble to ashes again. I don’t want my mental state to deteriorate so horribly and so exponentially quickly after I worked so hard, pouring my blood, sweat and tears into the effort to improve upon myself.

I’m probably going to have nightmares about this nonsense. Immediate aid is not required as of now, but still. Help me.

[dreamsclock]

Like I’m surprised no ones said this yet but....what if Dream has a history with the contents of Schlatt’s book? How much has he known about necromancy, and has he ever brought anyone back before? Despite how long he’s been in there, no one has really discussed how the resurrection’s going to actually happen.

Could a person resurrect themselves? Because that could explain the immortal!Dream hc. he isn’t, really, he’s a guy, but he keeps coming back, like a glitch in the matrix. he keeps stitching himself back together until he’s unrecognizable. It could be like a respawn almost, maybe there’s a certain way to use it for infinite respawns, though the ones after a last canon life are different. technically, he’s human, but he knows he’s wrong, he’s dead, and every time he comes back he feels like he’s desecrating his own body. maybe he doesn’t know how to make it stop, to really die. Perhaps he made an inbetween type place for comfort for the feeling of resurrection, made it his own fantasy and guided the occasional lost soul.

He was Cornelius, stuck in Karl’s innocent game, suffering a scarring and traumatic death that was never really taken seriously, lost whatever family he had, crawled out of his mediocre grave, and was left to start from scratch away from the place he called home, just like he told Tommy to do every day. The mayor (idk name) even called him ‘the old and wise’ despite catboy confirming he was physically younger than the mayor himself

He was Hubert, (I’m assuming this from how ranbutler was treated but idk) who was worth nothing to the man he served, not allowed to speak, not to be seen or heard, was not called by his name, and treated less than dirt. This could be part of his history with the egg (why he was worried when he saw it, said the prison has to be finished sooner, seemed to know what it was) as well as additional trauma from being denied human rights (literally billiam said his butler wasn’t a person), and completely subservient and powerless to a cruel force. He projects this onto Tommy in exile and it makes his prison time and relationship w the warden so much worse. It also makes sense with how he’s not talking

Think of how many times Dream could have reset himself. I usually don’t like these hcs cuz I prefer to think he’s human, flawed and capable of feeling, but this technically wouldn’t make him immortal I think. Yes, he’s ‘living forever’, but it could also be that after a certain point he can’t come back anymore, and then death’s looming over him again and it’s so absolutely terrifying and earth-shattering be for so long he seriously considered himself above death itself, a god, but he isn’t. Perhaps it’s because he loses the book, and he is frantic, stuttering when Wilbur asks for tnt, fighting against his own friends. He’s erratic until Schlatt offers him the book and he’s just so desperate for control over his life and death, and he switches sides so quickly because no one, not tommy or Wilbur or sapnap, is as important to him as this power

I think Dream would realize eventually that because of how many times he’s died and because of how he’s never had to accept the inevitability of death, he has an irrational fear of it. There is also the frustration that he should act immortal and god-like, because he has that power, right? He should be cold and unfeeling, hardened, so why does it keep hurting every time he uses his ‘blessing’. Why does every life bring him more pain than the last. As he deteriorates in prison, he could begin to see this power as a curse, and that someone as horrible as him doesn’t deserve life in the first place, and he sets out to find himself true ‘peace’ What if he breaks and admits everything, and everyone blames him because ‘you did this to yourself’ as well as see it as an excuse why nothing they do will ever hurt him, ‘he can’t feel it, he’s an immortal corpse, he doesn’t have to worry about pain’ which would hurt if it wasn’t him who who gave himself the power and he didn’t know how to fix it

He’s using magic to create an artificial respawn, you could say, and it really makes you wonder how ethical any of this is. Should dead things stay dead? Would it really be right to bring Wilbur back, seeing what happened to Dream? Of course they both deserve help and a second chance, but this isn’t natural

sry for the long ask or if I repeat myself I just thought of this and wanted to know ur opinion,,,

YO this is such an interesting take !! it combines the idea of immortality and humanity really well — he’s human, but at this point he might as well not be, and he can’t face his imminent death either. the questions that would be raised about death would be such interesting ones, too, i feel like you could do a lot with them considering how close some characters are to dying permanently with only one life left.

there would also be parallels to be confronted between wilbur and dream, because loads of people would want to revive wilbur, of course, because he’s wilbur....... but then again, doesn’t that mean dream also deserves another chance? or should they let wilbur stay dead?

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟔)

note: it’s been a while y’all!!! i hope you’re still here & i hope you’ve been taking the time to educate yourself on everything that’s going on around the world!

this chapter probably took me the longest to write out of any chapter bc i was trying to get all the details just right. i felt like maybe something was missing, and i edited it all this week to get it how i wanted. now i feel more secure!!

i hope y’all enjoy it, i’m so excited to see and show y’all what’s up next for moonrose/yn and steve. leave your thoughts !! let’s gooo

playlist

word count: 8.1k

warnings: none really? other than mentions of sex work and the age gap btwn steve and moonrose. but no smut this time! this starts off where chapter five ended.

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

The sight in front of you when that camera turned on made you sit right up, your eyes nearly popping out of your head. There was no fucking way. It was some sort of sick joke. Because the man behind the camera simply could not be who you thought it was.    

     “What. The. Fuck.”

| | |

     "What the fuck?" you continued, less statically now that the initial shock was gone.

But there was no way in hell that the man you were talking to, had been talking to for over a month, was Captain America? He didn't have to be in his full attire, the face of Steve Rogers was noticeable anywhere.

     And then it hit you, a flood of realizations. Of course he had used a fake name at first. It should've been obvious when he changed his name from Grant Roberts to Steve - short for Steve Rogers. It should've been obvious when he told you that he was a "scientist", such a vague term to use for the many branches of science that existed.

     It should've been obvious why he wouldn't turn his camera on. And yet, it shouldn't have, because this wasn't something that you could even begin to suspect. Customers had their reasons for turning off their cameras - one of those reasons was not usually because they were secretly an Avenger.

     But still, it didn't feel quite real. The logical, pragmatic side of you calmly figured that this was all just somebody's idea of a sick joke, that maybe this person behind the screen had set you up all along just for this big reveal, as some sort of way to deceive you. In fact, the logical side of you wanted to write this all off as a pathetic joke.

     It didn't make sense. And you desperately needed it to. You needed answers, now. If this were some kind of highly calculated joke for whatever reason, you couldn't even find one, you wanted to know. And if it were a joke, you wanted to know why you. You wanted to know how much farther this person was willing to go.

    And if it weren't a joke, if you really were talking to Steve Rogers... you wanted to deny it, but something in you urged that this was real, as unlikely as it seemed. The feeling that he was who you had truly been talking to felt as true as the connection you had created with Steve.

Still, that didn't mean you weren't shook the fuck up.

     "What the fuck!" You repeated, standing up and bringing your laptop with you as you migrated into your office, turning on the lights and then sitting back down at your office table. This felt like official business. You wanted to really be able to take it in.

     And Steve? Well, he was just waiting for you to finish reacting, all the while his eyes slowly watching you on the screen, his chest filling up with worry. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have, even if it were in the name of bettering himself and fixing things with you. But he knew he couldn't panic again, couldn't retract out of fear. He would face this, even if it meant having to endure a reaction from you.

     The worst that could happen was you could expose him and it would lead to some unnecessarily huge scandal. Even worse, it could turn out that you were not to be trusted, and that somehow this would take a turn for the dangerous. But he had known that all along. He had thought about it long and hard before he made the decision to show himself, and he still did. So there was no turning back now.

     "Are you kidding me?" you barked, not out of anger but out of pure confusion - you felt like you had to assume this sort of accusatory position to defend yourself, whether or not he was real. And if he was, you had some choice words to say.

     "Moonrose..." Steve said, the first time he was speaking ever since he turned on the camera.

     You focused in on the way his lips moved and his careful expression, the way he spoke slowly and calmly, like he was approaching a scared animal who was ready to attack. All of his words would be calculated, you could tell in the way his eyebrows came together, the way he watched your reaction as if he were concerned for your own well being. And to admit it, he was to some extent. He understood your freak out, but he was trying to be calm to avoid a meltdown that would ruin the both of them, depending on what you decided to do in the midst of said meltdown.

     "Okay. You're talking," you noted, blinking. Maybe if he hadn't spoken you could slam your laptop shut and brush this off as some sort of glitch in the matrix. You still had questions. You were a smart woman. You weren't about to be played. "How do I know you aren't a deepfake?"

Steve furrowed his brows. All his years in this business and some of this new technology was still hard for him to keep up with,

     "What?"

You ignored his confusion and continued on. Your request was more like a command, Steve felt like he was back in the army again.

     "Blink," you commanded.

      You wanted to see if you could spot any inconsistencies in him, just to cross out the idea that the person in front of you could be generated by an algorithm. Was it desperate? Maybe, but not unnecessary. If you were talking to Steve Rogers you bet your ass you would make sure he was real.

     Steve wanted to ask why, but he figured he was best not going against your wishes in any way. So he blinked, and to your wondrous disdain, it seemed legitimate. You felt some sort of marvelous sinking feeling in your chest. Like this - your career, your customer interactions, your life - was realer than you had signed up for. Everywhere you turned these days, something was surprising you. But what made this sinking feeling so brilliant was the fact that you were seeing Steve. And you weren't just seeing anyone, you were seeing Steve Rogers. That was a big deal.

     A quick bark of laughter escaped from your lips - first because of the fact that you thought you could prove whether or not what you were seeing on the screen was real, when all signs pointed to yes, and second because you were in genuine shock, processing what had happened to you. But you were laughing because it was almost funny. Lately your life had thrown you so many curveballs. It was almost unbelievably hilarious that of all the people in the world, Steve would be this Steve in particular. The universe would broaden those slim chances just for you.

     And for what? You wondered. Maybe it was a test to see if you would break down again. But really, you had no reason to. You weren't necessarily upset over this revelation, in fact it made the discrepancies of your relationship with Steve make a whole lot more sense. It made the blow less heavy. So you weren't upset. You weren't on the verge of tears or a brand new breakdown that would take you weeks to recover from - you were just sitting motionless in a soup of disbelief.

It was kind of cool, though. This whole time you were talking to Steve Rogers, the Captain America. It was also worrisome, because you thought there might have been some reason in particular that he chose you, although you couldn't figure out why for the life of you. The most illegal thing you'd done in the past few years was neglect a couple of parking tickets and have a few underage drinks.

     "How do I know I'm really talking to Captain America?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him through the screen.

Steve sighed as if resigning and reached over beside him, where from behind his bed frame he pulled out the shield, showing it on camera like it was nothing. You squinted and folded your arms, observing it up close.

     "That could be anything," you raised a brow, and Steve sighed again, this time closing his eyes.

     "It's me. Really. I don't know how else I could prove it to you."

When you heard his voice again, the pure intention in his voice, hoping that you'd believe him, it all seemed to click. And any shred of denial you had left was gone, defeated by acceptance.

     "Jesus," you breathed out, looking at him in silence for a second and then shaking your head, confused. "You know so many girls on here would kill to talk to you? I mean, seriously. I have a friend who dresses up in Avengers cosplay every night and uses a dildo the same colors as your shield. So why me? You know there's nothing illegal about what I'm doing, right? I can't get in trouble for this."

You realized you were sort of rambling and not making any sense, but this was one of those times where you let yourself. What was the appropriate response to this? The answer - there was none. Also, you wanted to make sure you were in the clear. Though you doubted Captain America would be prowling against sex workers, you had to make your innocence obvious in general. It was like you hadn't considered that maybe Steve, like anyone else, had needs, and that you were just helping him fulfill those needs... until it spiraled into, well, this.

     "Listen," Steve started.

Even he hardly knew what to say. For all the time he had spent thinking about this decision, he was starting to feel that he wasn't really thinking at all. He didn't know how he would de-escalate the situation, and he didn't know what exactly he would say. He just figured it would provide a sense of relief for him and hopefully for you too, as well as resolve any discrepancies in why he stopped talking to you.

But now he felt like maybe this was just his selfish excuse for the fact that he wanted more, and that he was willing to show his face because of that fact. Did he feel better? Slightly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest now that you were talking again, now that he was seeing you again. The feeling was so odd, a kind of weird lightheartedness that didn't feel like it belonged.

He finally chose his words.

     "I'm sorry. For everything. I... I don't even know what to say right now."

     "You're telling me," you responded with raised eyebrows.

The situation may have been weird and more than either of you could deal with, but it was nice talking to him. The face was nothing like you had been expecting at all. But it was still Steve... right?

     "Really, though. I want to apologize. And I don't have to show my face to do that, but I feel like I need to. I'm sorry for how things ended last time. I was afraid of the things that could happen if I let myself open up to you. I was trying to be extremely careful, and I let that take over me. It wasn't fair to you to detach myself the way I did," Steve explained slowly, and you listened, taking in each and every word.

     It wasn't hard to understand. It made sense why he wouldn't want to open up to someone on the internet, being who he was. Still, you wished he hadn't been so sudden about it. You'd wished you could've at least understood him a little, so it didn't end out like that.

He continued,

     "And I'm sorry for enabling any of this at all, even though I don't regret it any more. It's not that I don't think you'd be able to handle that kind of communication or that I found you immature. It's that I think I wouldn't be able to handle that kind of communication. And... and I was beating myself up for letting things go so far the way they did instead of just realizing... just realizing that..."

     He swallowed down his words a bit, but you were curious, leaning your head in as if to prompt him. All his words were reassuring, a genuine apology. Like he was making up for his own failure, explaining his own faults. It made you feel a whole lot less naive and it cleared up so much for you, after things were left so blurry. And you were surprised he was even giving you an explanation. Why did he come back, if he were so busy and had weaned himself of you already? Why was someone of his importance being so caring when he didn't have to be at all?

You wanted to know.

     "Realizing what?" you asked.

     "That what we had wasn't something I could just brush off because I was scared. That just because a strong connection like that intimidates me doesn't mean trying to pretend it doesn't exist will help. It's not like me, honest. I value loyalty above all else. I consider you a friend, and I wasn't loyal to you. And I'm sorry."

The thoughts in your brain were running a mile a minute. If anything, you weren't expecting this to begin with. But an apology? You weren't expecting that at all, from the Steve you once knew, or from Captain America. And now that you could see who he was, this connection you had felt like something you were more willing to lean into. You were more willing to be honest about the fact that you liked each other, and not just for the purpose of your work.

    You had so many customers who considered you a friend, but not in this way. Not in the genuine way, where even though you serviced him, you weren't being nice because of that. If he had been just some rando, you might have been able to brush his words off easier. And you wouldn't even be entertaining the idea of a conversation that was this exclusive, this revealing. Had he been anyone else, this wouldn't be happening. But you'd seen who he was, on the news and in the public world, and through a screen. It just made it easier to want to trust him and his intentions.

    And right now, it sounded like Steve was genuinely sorry, and that he felt like he had let down a friend. And you were both surprised and ecstatic that he saw you in that way. It wasn't every day a public figure like Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. It felt like speaking with an old friend, so mundane and nonchalant, yet so out of the norm.

    Yet, even though you were happy to be talking with him, you couldn't help but criticize his methods. You thought of how he had thrown you completely off guard while you were in this carefree disposition, but you didn't forget that it was your reaction that mattered.

    Your reaction would set the feel for the entire week. You were proud of yourself for not allowing the kind of reaction that would send you back to the place you had spent time getting out of. You were glad that this revelation didn't ruin the good mood that had been curated over the past few hours during the night out. He had just come out of the blue, and was giving some hearty apology that you weren't even prepared for in the slightest. Uttering your next words, you shook your head slowly as you expressed your feelings of disappointment in him.

    "I'm glad you've come to your senses. And, I can understand where you're coming from. But I can't help but think that this isn't like you, or it shouldn't be. I mean, you're kind of a big deal. You should know how to handle your feelings instead of just leaving me out of the blue and then coming back to reveal that you're... well, you! It's really a lot to take in, I would hope you're not missing that."

Steve nodded, glad that you were expressing yourself. It didn't upset him that you were calling him out- if anything, he deserved it, and he liked someone that could point out his own wrongdoings, although that wasn't because he wasn't responsible for himself. He liked a woman who could call him out, but he didn't need a woman who could stay on top of him, because he was adult enough to do it himself. There was a difference, and distinct levels of maturity that came with that difference.

    He had been so engulfed in his own shortcomings and anxieties and that wasn't fair to you, nor was coming back and doing this big reveal, being as prolific a person as he was. To be fair though, he hadn't really been thinking logically in the moments before he showed you who he was. But you had made all correct points - he was supposed to be the smart adult in the situation and communicate efficiently - you understood why that hadn't happened, but you just wanted to bring it to the table. You were vocal about your feelings. You didn't just make excuses for people.

    "Yeah. I know. It's silly of me, I was thinking of myself and stressing over the details. So, I'm sorry, I know that wasn't very heroic of me. I feel a little selfish, because I don't want knowing who I am to put any added stress on you," Steve became slightly sheepish, apologizing for the fact that he was who he was, and that he was intentionally revealing himself to you despite his high importance.

     You had settled into the reality of the situation, and ever since you took the time for yourself to heal, this sort of rolled off your back. Another conflict down, just like that. You were ready to take on more surprises, more shock. Maybe a month ago something like this would've blown you out of the water and put you on edge, especially if it were in tandem with the stressful things you were already going through.

But now, you were mellowed out. And you were thankful for the fact that you had been on a night out before this, the drinks in your system and the fun you had had definitely took the edge off, made you feel more in the moment without the anxieties of the present.

So you almost laughed it off, genuinely chuckling.

    "You don't sound cocky at all," you joked sarcastically, and Steve made a playful face.

    "What's that mean?"

You did your best impression of him, putting on airs and sitting up high and mighty, imitating his voice,

     "I'm sorry that I'm Steve Rogers, defender of justice. Here's my shield, no big deal. Next caller."

Steve chuckled, lowering his head,

    "Oh, is that how I sound?"

You shook your head slowly and playfully,

    "Without a doubt. And by the way, the fact that you sleep next to your shield? Classic."

    "Not next to it, it's just beside the bed frame," Steve defended himself, playing along with the joke.

    "Same thing," you teased, with a dismissive wave of your hand.

    A beat went by, silence. The two of you sitting in the acknowledgment of what you had, staring at the other on the screen. Sated, but not elated by what had just happened. As for Steve, he felt much more relaxed. Like he was in a better place, now that he had explained himself to the only person who it made a difference for. Now that he had finally broken past that wall of fear. And he wasn't thinking about the future, wasn't worrying his head off about the possible consequences of what he was doing, though there were so many that his brain could think up. Instead he was just sitting in his good feeling, floating in it.

    He was being honest with himself, with no fear of what that meant. So many times he pushed back opportunities like this because of his own fear, or because he convinced himself he was too busy to pursue something like this. And though it wasn't like you two were dating or in an official relationship, there was something between you. It was clear that you liked each other, more than just in the way a customer would. And instead of running from that spark, Steve was letting it shine. Whether it turned out to be something more ot not wasn't what you two were worried about. It was just sitting in the moment. Although, the silence, the attraction in your gazes made you wonder where to go from here.

    Would Steve be continuing to attend your shows, and carry on like normal? Would he want to talk more, now that he had gotten rid of this fear he was telling you about? Your mind wasn't going too far on that front - you weren't thinking of technical things, like what this would mean when it came to your relationship with Steve, that seemed like it was outlandish to be talking about. You weren't pursuing anything with him and he didn't seem to be pursuing anything with him. But you wanted to know what the hell would happen after this?

    "So... what now?" you asked calmly - because you weren't worried about what was next, you just wondered.

Steve took in a deep breath, slowly shrugging his shoulders up and down. He raised his brows,

    "I dunno. What's important to me is what's important to you. What are you hoping for?"

    "I'm not hoping for anything," you replied, and to hear yourself say those words was such a relief. You were done wanting anything from men, or anyone, or hoping that they would follow through with your desires. Your hopes for how other people would act always spiraled into desperate measures, and that wasn't you any more. You continued, "Also, you're the one who wanted to clear things up. I think what's next is your decision."

    "You're right," Steve nodded. That was fair enough. He didn't want to put any of this on you. To him, it was a matter of how this relationship would progress. He wanted to know you on a base level, not just through this. He wanted to know you the same way he knew a normal friend. He saw you as that, why not make things that way? But for now, it was best to just take things slow. Not out of fear, but for the sake of reality. "I guess I just want to get to know you on a real level. Not as a customer, but as a friend."

    Steve's words struck a realization in you. Not only were you talking to Steve, but you had also performed for him. He knew your o-face. And that wasn't something that embarrassed you, because it was your job, and you were very comfortable with your sexuality because of your job. But knowing now that you were performing for Captain America? It felt like the stakes were just a bit higher, and you always put on a good show.

    And it was just a tad bit flustering to know that the man you gave your all to sexually, the man whose groans and moans turned you on to no end, the man who needed you to please him, was Steve Rogers. Unbelievable, yet the proof was in front of you. You'd be lying if it didn't make you feel powerful to know that you had been the reason that a whole Avenger was pleasuring himself almost every night.

    "Huh. So do I still show you my ass?" you asked, masking your flustered state with humor.

A laugh tumbled out of Steve's lips, and you could see him turning a shade of pink, see his face change as he got what he could only describe as flashbacks. You smirked at the impact you seemed to have on him. He cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't break as he continued, smiling shyly at the camera,

     "Uh," he started, realizing he hadn't quite formulated a response. He chuckled nervously. "If-if you want to."

You nearly snorted, feeling especially devious now,

    "Wow, Steve, I'm shocked. After all this time, I still make you nervous?"

You kind of felt like the shit. Who else could say they successfully got Steve Rogers off, without even touching him? You were the only one who could make him feel this way, and he didn't have to say it out loud, he already knew it. There was a reason he chose you specifically. The minute he saw you, he was drawn to you. That hadn't changed.

He chuckled at your question,

    "I'm not such a tough guy when it comes to these things."

    "Oh, but that can change. Trust me, I've seen it," you commented, and you both knew what you were talking about - the time when you had taught Steve how to be more dominant with you. That was probably one of your more intense sessions with him.

    "Really though, I do want to get to know you better. You're a friend to me. I want it to feel like a friendship. If you're comfortable with that."

    "I think so," you responded. Again, it was only because it was him that you were agreeing to this. But you didn't quite know how to make that happen, because it never had before. "I guess it's just a question of how to be friends outside of this."

Steve shrugged,

    "We could talk outside of this. If you're okay with doing that."

You raised a brow, sort of surprised at that suggestion,

    "Are you? I mean, what are you thinking?"

Steve felt secure enough that he wanted to be able to talk to you outside of this site, as long as he wasn't being reckless with his communication. He didn't want there to be some way for important information to leak if he started talking to you on his phone, or give up too much personal information of his own. But he knew he wanted to talk to you outside of just this site, and hear your voice, too.

    "There's gotta be some way we can talk more frequently. I'm not really a texting guy, but I have... several phones. Some are for business and some are for-"

     "Talking to cam girls online," you filled in the blank.

    "Sure. Except you're my friend. Who happens to be a sex worker."

You laughed, grinning at him, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the fragile correction,

    "Got it. I mean, I have a phone number. I'm sure one of your techie friends can find a way for us to text without revealing too much personal information, if that's what you're thinking about. But hey, you know I'm not gonna like... I don't know, try to rob the Avengers."

Steve nodded understandingly.

    "No, I understand that. It's just, I don't know, a precaution thing. A job thing. It's less personal and more just, professional."

     "Hm. Do you usually hide your number from friends?" you asked inquisitively, raising an eyebrow.

    "Sometimes," Steve said shortly, then sighing as he began to think of the circumstances. This friendship was different from one he ever had. It was so based on trust and making slow progress, within the boundaries you both had to set. "You make a good point. I'll think about it," Steve decided.

    "Here, we can compromise. I have two snapchats. One is a private snapchat, a special treat for loyal customers, and the other is my regular snapchat. The private is for nudes, the regular one is for... my life. You can see my boobs and my hiking trips. And, we can text on my regular snapchat, like friends would. But, just to be clear, you're... still a customer, right? You can be both a friend and a customer. Huh. Now that I'm saying that out loud, I realize that a lot of my friends have seen me naked."

Steve laughed, and you grinned just at the sight of his smile. It was nice to hear his voice, but it was more than enough to be able to see the face that went along with it. Maybe this was the start to your friendship.

    "I get that. And I'll always be a customer. But I think, maybe for a few days, it would be healthy for me to just see you as you. It would feel weird watching my... friend, you know," Steve couldn't even complete that sentence, and he wasn't quite sure how he could.

You did a lot of sexual stuff on camera, it wasn't just one thing. But it was how he felt. He wanted it to feel like a refresh. That didn't mean he didn't want to see you that way at all, but it was the old fashioned part of him that made him feel like he needed to see you as just you. He continued,

    "You know, not while you're performing as Moonrose."

    "Sure, I can appreciate that," you nodded. "But in the meantime, don't be a stranger on here. I actually like doing those things for you."

    "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'll definitely be back," Steve replied quickly - there wasn't a big enough old fashioned bone in his body to keep him from interacting with you the way the site was designed for. He needed you in that way, he knew that was undeniable. But first, a fresh start. "And the Snapchat thing sounds good. You do have to teach me how to use it, though."

     "Sure, Steve," you smiled. You felt some sort of excited pang in your chest, like this was the start of something new and good.

     Lately you'd been circulating in such good energy, and even though this came to you as a shock, the end result was so positive. You were glad to be returning to interacting with Steve, to be feeling the joyous depth of this connection that you had. You were glad that he was who he was, because it made it that much more fun to talk to him, it felt like some sort of special occasion. Because you knew Captain America, without knowing that you knew him. And now you were becoming friends with him, and it was almost normal because you had been talking to him for so long. It was hard for you to get a clear grasp on, it was so unexpected, so irregular. But it was exciting. A rush, and not in a toxic, thrilling way. It was a fulfilling and wholesome rush, one that made you feel full.

    "Oh, and by the way," Steve added, the thought just coming up in his mind. "What's your real name?"

You were practically beaming. Never in your life would you have expected to be telling this to a customer, to be becoming friends. But he was asking, and you were willing to respond. You wanted him to know you, just as he wanted to know you.

    "My name is Y/N," you said, like you were letting out a breath and taking in fresh air. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face when he heard your real name, how it sounded just right coming from your lips, and he decided he wanted to say it all the time.

     "Hi Y/N. I'm Steve. Nice to finally meet you."

| | |

    "What's got you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush on teacher?" Sam inquired as he walked into the kitchen, catching sight of Steve leaning over the counter, his phone in his hand, an unlikely grin on his face, laughter coming from his normally pouty lips.

      Steve just looked up from his phone, trying to appear as serious as possible. Sam's observation wasn't totally off, after all. For the past week or so, you and Steve had been talking through Snapchat, a different means of communication like how you discussed. You taught Steve how to download it, which was an experience unique to you and you only.

    How many people could say they taught the strongest, smartest supersoldier out there how to download and create a Snapchat account? (All while you were teaching him how to use the app, he kept insisting "I'm not that old", to which you did nothing to reassure him that he wasn't). Anyways, Steve had been preoccupying himself with that as of late.

    During this time, the spring period of the year, the Avengers were a lot less busy, and had a lot more downtime on their hands. He spent that downtime on Snapchat with you, and with his team in real life. And it was safe to say, he was back up again. But not in the almost superficial, hyper-pleased way that he was when he first met you, the kind of happiness that was like a sugar high that crashed hard. No, this time he was happy, truly. There were no blurred lines between the two of you at the moment, only honesty, only truth.

    So when he watched your Snapchat stories on your regular snapchat and got to see your real life, he was always highly entertained. He truly wrapped himself into your hiking adventures, study sessions and student life, your daily acai bowls, all the outfits you were making, all the things you enjoyed. You weren't perfect, but he admired you so much. You were hardworking and adventurous. You made everything you did beautiful, and you only wanted beautiful energy around you - you exuded energy of that very same magnitude.

And plus, you were always sending him funny snaps - pictures of yourself with filters on them, updates about your day, or just posts you saw that you found funny. It was so good to be interacting on a humane, friend level. He could admit he got caught up sometimes, like in this very moment.

    He switched off his phone, putting it in the back pocket of his sweatpants, and offered a small smile to Sam, who was teasing him.

    "Hello to you too," Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

     He wouldn't answer that question though. Even though he was much more comfortable with you, he still didn't want his business revolving around you to circulate. But this time it wasn't out of fear, it was simply because he wanted to keep things private and be smart about it. He still knew that his team would probably be concerned if he was talking to you at this level, that he let it get this far, but he wasn't exactly worried about that. 

     He just didn't want to deal with the controversy if he told them about you. For now, this was just something for him. Not secretive, but not public, either. The shift was similar to your own healing transition - Steve was less robust and scared, less type A about the whole situation.

    "I don't think I've ever seen you look at your phone like that. I don't even think I've seen you on your phone... at all," Sam continued, though he wasn't pressing Steve, he was just curious.

Everyone had taken notice, once again, of Steve's shift in energy - they wondered if it would be permanent or if he would just become withdrawn or irritable once again. And they wondered what brought these shifts on, but they mainly just admired the moments like these. Maybe it was just the fact that it was getting nicer outside, that the skies were clear and blue, and that they weren't overwhelmed with work.

    Steve dodged the question yet again, watching as Sam filled up a water bottle.

    "First time for everything, huh?"

Sam grinned mischievously,

    "My man Steve. Finally adjusting to the times."

Steve chuckled silently - he was adjusting more than Sam even knew.

And when it came to you, you were glad to have Steve in your life. He wasn't a priority to you, and that was a good feeling. He was just someone you liked talking to, a friend who you felt you had a deep connection with. You were glad that you had each cleared your feelings up, that you decided to make this compromise in order to be friends, in order to revive and live through that connection that you both acknowledged you had.

    "You could say that," Steve grinned at Sam, who was in athletic clothing and was filling up a water bottle at the fridge.

    "Going for a run. Wanna come with?" Sam asked, Steve smirking playfully as he folded his muscular arms, which bulged through his t-shirt. He was already in athletic wear - a tshirt and sweatpants - he was ready any time.

    "That something you really wanna do right now?" Steve teased.

After taking a big gulp of water, Sam pointed at Steve, indicating that the competition was on,

    "Try me."

Steve shook his head and laughed,

    "Sure, why not?"

     As Steve and Sam embarked on their afternoon run, they were followed by the sound of snapping cameras and flashing lights, which was normal for any Avenger doing anything. Though, press generally respected their wishes and didn't ask them any questions or bother them much, they were still there. Though, it was generally something Steve could ignore, and this time in particular it didn't bother him much. He was too wrapped up in the moment, the warm spring breeze against his face as he ran alongside his close friend, the thought of you fresh in his mind, the image of your smile burning in his brain.

All these things kept him warm, and Steve was glad. He was much too used to the cold.

✺ ✺ ✺

    You liked talking to Steve - scratch that, you loved talking to Steve. If you had a connection before, it was undeniable now. It was really him. And knowing that, you could sink into the comfort of talking to him. Neither of you felt like there was anything to be afraid of. You were just friends, and it was great like that, even if you both knew you had the bursting potential to be more. 

     Of course you understood the romantic undertones of your relationship, they'd been there from the start, first under the guise of flirting, then stretched out as you spoke to one another and got to know each other. And now that you actually knew each other, the possibilities for more were right above your heads, all it would take was a little reach.

    But you weren't quite thinking of that. You knew it, but you let yourself rest in the friendship you had now. You were still taking care of yourself, not focusing on your love life at the moment. But if the feeling should become so pressing, who were you to deny it? You would be lying to yourself if you did, and probably denying yourself a good thing. You only wanted good things.

    Each day, when you thought about your situation with Steve, your heart swelled up with the magic of your beautiful secret. No one could know, of course, but it was nice to know for yourself. If there were anybody that you were going to tell, it would be Aaliyah - she usually found things anyway.

    You were getting to see him as the real Steve Rogers - not Captain America, not The Man Out of Time, not the Steve Rogers that all the news stories reported on - though he wasn't quite different from the loyal, strong minded and good natured person that he was known to be. And although you knew it was so special to talk to someone like him, you didn't idolize it as much after that week, and that was good. It meant that you really did have the capacity to be friends with each other.

    Out of respect for Steve, and because you were being smart, you decided that you would tell no one. You didn't want to sacrifice the fact that every day you were talking to the one and only Steve Rogers on Snapchat, and he was your friend. You enjoyed sending him things just as much as he liked receiving things. You'd taught him how to use it, but he was still getting used to all the oddities and newness of Snapchat - filters, bitmojis, all that. It was still cool to know that you had this exclusive way to talk to an Avenger. If you weren't smart, you'd tell it on the mountains.

    You were just opening a snapchat from him, a picture of him and The Falcon, yet Steve had the audacity to caption it: "Out with a friend." Looking at the picture, your eyes went wide, glancing between Steve and Sam and not being able to decide who to focus on. You slowly realized there would be more perks to talking to Steve than just Steve - after all, he was a part of a team with the rest of the greats. The perks weren't all you cared about, but they definitely garnered a reaction. 

     You were fixated on the image, hardly paying attention to Aaliyah who was in front of you. Again you were out for brunch together. You'd decided to take up your tradition of Sunday girls brunch yet again, ever since you'd started up therapy and your self proclaimed healing process. But what was great about that process was that you were in a space where you could say that you were happy. Still on ground, but at least you weren't beneath the surface of the earth.

   "Hello! Earth to YN!" Aaliyah exclaimed, waving her hand in front of your face.

Quickly, you turned off your phone, the image of Steve and Sam disappearing (but how badly you wanted to screenshot it), and set it down on the table, letting a smile replace your entranced features. You folded your arms and tried to appear as nonchalant as possible. Luckily, Aaliyah didn't get on your ass about whatever was on your phone, because she had other things on her mind.

     "What's up?" you quirked your eyebrow, taking a sip of your green juice.

     "You know what's up. I've been trying to ask you about Alex all week," Aaliyah raised her eyebrows, and you nearly chortled at the mention of his name.

     You remembered that incident, it had only been a week ago. But that was a moment of spontaneity. You weren't thinking of seeing him again, but Aaliyah seemed to have other plans.

     "What about him?" you smirked, biting down on your straw.

     "You know 'what about him'! You were sucking his face and then you never spoke again, that's what about him," Aaliyah replied.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but a blush came to your cheeks as you remembered the events that went down. Lucky for you though, both you and Alex had agreed that you weren't looking for anything. So you felt fine just leaving it the way it was. You liked those moments of spontaneity, liked the fact that you didn't need to worry.

    "And let's leave it just like that," you grinned, and Aaliyah leaned back in her chair, impressed.

    "Hmm. This is interesting for you. You really aren't a hookup girl, I mean, not in real life. I'd think you wanted something more out of that."

Aaliyah was right, you weren't a hookup girl. You had your attractions in the past, but even before your boyfriend, you'd been more traditional. You were attractive and flirtatious though, so you'd had a small amount of flings and hookups, but it wasn't your style. You did it so much on the internet to begin with. In real life, you had a good balance of spontaneity and regularity. But this was different. 

     You had done what you did with Alex for yourself, for your own pleasure with no strings attached, with the knowledge that this wouldn't be followed by the long, winding road of trust exercises and disappointment that came with an actual relationship. And it inadvertently taught you to stop resisting when you wanted someone, even if it didn't mean you'd be together forever. Would you do it again? Probably not. You'd satisfied that small craving you had.

    In response to Aaliyah, you simply shrugged and said,

    "I guess there's just more in store for me."    

✺ ✺ ✺

    After the run with Sam, Steve took a hot shower and let the water run down his body. As always, hot showers brought along thinking sessions. Usually Steve thought of the things he'd lost, the things he still had yet to adjust to. But right now, all he had on his mind was you. And it didn't make him melancholy or nervous the way that it did in the past. 

     This time he just thought of you with sweet pleasure, without even touching himself. And he thought of the things Bucky had said about trust, just a little while before he'd revealed his face to you; about how at surface level it can appear hard to trust someone, but that gut instinct reveals who you could trust, even if it didn't seem like you should. And you were gaining Steve's trust steadfastly.

   To Steve, it was crazy that you had only just started talking to each other on this level. You felt much closer. It made sense, because you'd spoken for so much time before, but it wasn't the same as how you were speaking now. It was developing, quick and easy, it wasn't hard for Steve to call you his friend.

    And maybe, even more. The same with you, Steve had known the romantic potentials of your relationship - it was a part of what had scared him off at first. He knew it, maybe even more than you did. Because while you solely acknowledged the romantic potential, Steve could feel himself looking a bit more into it. He was wondering what it might be like to be closer to you- the beautiful pros and even the cons. He wanted to know how much closer he could get, to satisfy the feeling of simply wanting to be closer. He couldn't get enough of you and your cute quirks and the conversations you had together outside of the cam site.

    Being friends with you was more than enough, but the feelings that were bubbling up were hard to ignore. They made him so vibrant, and it was noticeable. He kept his head on his shoulders, but not pinned on too hard. Some part of him thought that maybe he was just letting his head go too far in the clouds because he wasn't used to being this spontaneous, wasn't used to the feeling of earning a new friend under such exclusive circumstances. That the freshness of the situation was getting him overexcited, and that maybe he was more of an old fuddy duddy than he realized. But another part of him thought that this was a slow blooming realization, and that he shouldn't clip it while it was still budding.

    It was exciting, it was nerve wracking. He had felt this way before the reveal, but it was crushed beneath the ruins of his own anxieties and fears. Now that he felt he was free to connect in this way, he was hopeful, like there really was something out there for him. Months ago, he thought looking for love was pretty much a dead end, and something he didn't have the time for. Now, even though he wasn't infatuated, he was a bit more optimistic about the fact that there was something here for him, something he had passed roadblocks to get to. 

     He was already learning from you, he could only imagine what you could teach each other if you got closer. And so, the possibility, no matter how reachable or unreachable it was, intrigued him. He was walking around with the ghost of a smile on his face because of it. Again, he wasn't completely gone off you. The feeling was like he was just dipping his toes in to a very deep pool.

     He was lying in bed, opening another snap from you. No filter, no makeup, just you in bed on your side, the sheets over your head, a small smile to match your sleepy eyes. The caption read: "goodnight!" Steve couldn't help but feel special about the fact that he got to see you up close like this, outside of your Moonrose act, stripped down, the same way you felt special about the fact that you were texting someone like him. He looked at the picture for far too long, in the same position as you, smiling before he was able to realize he was even doing it. If he could feel all these things just by looking at you, a friend, he knew there was more to come. And finally, he was thinking he could be open to that.

    Thinking that he could want to take things further, on his own initiative.

note: EEP!!! this was a big chapter !!! how do we feel <3 

[bowieandqueen11]

Perfect Match / Jonas Kahnwald Imagine

Request: Hi! Could I request some fluff of Jonas kahnwald x best friend reader when he realizes he's in love with her and not with Martha? A happy end with a kiss. Gosh this boy need to be protected ♡♡♡ 

Thank you to my dear @fuwari-s​ for reminding me how emotional I am about Jonas Kahnwald :’) Someone needs to come cry about season 3 with me!

Comments are always appreciated! <3

‘Show off.’

Jonas only grins, flopping back down onto his back and dropping his controller onto the floor by his side. He places one hand on his forehead, the other draped lazily around his stomach as you settle down next to his side. You can feel the small huff of air from his lips as he chuckles, your hand coming to grip on his other arm.

‘I don’t know why you keep on bringing this game over. I beat you every single time. You, and your brother.’

‘Leave Bartosz out of this, he sucks at every video game.’

You rub your fingers along the coarse mattress, revelling in its familiarity and warmth on such a cold Winden night. It was obvious Jonas hadn’t tried to keep his room tidy since his dad has passed on, but the duvet that lay tangled by the bottom of your waist was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. You toppled your legs onto it, kicking Jonas’ out of the way.

He only huffed in mock annoyance, before a flash of seriousness overcame his soft features and he turned his head to look down at you. 

‘Do you believe people could be made for each other? Like they were always meant to meet even without destiny?’

Sitting up on Jonas’ bed, your careful not to hit your foot against his elbow as you tuck your knees underneath your chin.

‘Like your parents?’

Streaks of pure white crackled against the stormy blanket of grey outside as you spoke those words, shrouding hot silver clouds with its blinding incandescence. Jagged bolts endlessly protrude, filling the sky with undying flashes of white against the brown backdrop of Jonas’ room.

‘Definitely not. Everyone in town seems to know that mum’s having an affair with Ulrich. And even if my dad never said anything, I think he knew as well.’

‘What then, like you and Martha?’

‘No, not like her! Besides, she’s with your brother now. Like... us.’

‘Like us? What do you mean?’

Jonas is lying in the room he had called home all his life, and yet he could still find himself trying to stop his arms from shaking as he looked quickly away from you. He’d spent all of last night up, tossing and turning, trying to find the right words to say to you. All the things he had written down in letters while he was away in ‘France’, but never had the courage to send, only to burn.  By the morning, his bed sheets had been in a knot on the floor, and aside from a few fit-full half hours of vivid Michael-full dreams, he hadn’t slept a wink. 

His stomach shifts uneasily, realising that he couldn’t run away from this anymore, that the time had come, and he notices that the hands that he is hugging himself with are pinching into his skin. It’s only when you grab onto one of his hand, intertwining your fingers with his like you had done a million times before, that he snaps out of his daydream.

‘Jonas, what’s going on. You’re acting weirder than usual. Was it Hannah?’ 

‘Just- moments like this, they feel like they’ve happened before. Like deja vu, or a gl-’

‘A glitch in the matrix. Yeah I get that. Well, if it’s any consolation, Jonas Kahnwald, if we are all stuck here living in this hell hole over and over again, I’m glad it’s you.’

There was a feeling in his gut that still said, ‘no,’ but another in his heart that knew, all along, that the answer was ‘yes.’ That somehow, it always had been, and always would. 

‘Do you remember the day we first met? You came walking into school, wandering into German and I swear, the whole room turned red for me. It was like I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day, until I talked to you again.’

‘And now your world’s gone crazy again.’

‘Yeah, well, it was worth it. I’d pick you over and over again, Y/n. In any timeline - in any world.’

‘Shh now and kiss me before your mum comes home.’

Your voice wavered, trying to sound confident as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyes traced onto your lips and mouth slightly agape, but you were still completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours you’d spent with Jonas - watching him talk, laugh, frown, sigh - that you would know all there was to know about his lips. But you hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against your own. How desperate they would feel. How familiar, as if you had done this thousands of times before. As if it was only natural. He feels your hands on the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, a smile growing on his face at the tickle.

As Jonas smiled at you, reaching into his back pocket to place a silver looking locket around your neck, only one thing rang around his mind. Meeting you was a fate, being your friend, a choice. And falling in love, it was always bound to happen.

‘I think we’re a perfect match, Y/n. Never let anyone else tell you any differently.’

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: God is Dead?

I might start updating twice a week because I am writing this story at BREAKNECK speed. this is my favorite chapter so far. enjoy! (special thanks to @friedchickenangelwings once again for sticking with me and my incessant rambling about this story at all hours during holidays)

Fic Summary:  Everything is the same up to the end of 15x20. Chuck has been “defeated,” but it was all a farce. When Jack absorbed Chuck, Chuck easily took over the 3 year old’s body and acted as if he were defeated. Chuck!Jack then had the Rusty Nail placed in the barn where Dean died, and with Cas gone, Dean didn’t fight it. Chuck did reimagine Heaven, but he’s fed the same lie to them all: that everything is perfect, they are free, they are in real paradise. Except it’s all an illusion insulated by blue skies and endless horizons. Because, just like the Good Place, people make Heaven into Hell for each other. And there’s nothing Chuck loves more than the natural order of tragedy. He “let it slip” to Bobby that he brought Cas back, when he really left him to rot in the Empty. Dean has to find his best friend before it’s too late, and he has to keep a happy face for everyone else, because Chuck is watching. Always watching. 

“You know?” Dean shakes his head. “What’s going on?” 

Charlie leans back against the bar. “Well, after Ash and I found each other-” they give a cute little nod of the head in sync, dorks, “through the frankly shitty wifi they’ve got up here, we got to talking.” 

“Yeah, we realized some shit just didn’t add up. Like angel radio.” Ash spins around and ducks into his backroom, coming back with a laptop that’s way more advanced than it was last time. Dean raises his eyebrows at it. “Yeah, man, it’s sick, right? Charlie upgraded my systems, it’s bitchin’.” he reaches past Dean’s shoulder to give Charlie a fist bump (enthusiastically returned) and Dean backs off. 

“Yeah, bitchin’,” Dean repeats with a grin. He’s too dumb for these people. But he sure is glad they’re on his side.  “Well, hey, show me whatcha got.” 

Ash nods and taps his temple. He mutters to himself and pulls the system toward him while Dean watches anxiously. Ash pauses and looks at him. “Dude. Gimme a second? This setup is a lil’ more complicated than your blackberry.”

Dean snorts and gives him space, followed by Charlie. “Dude. you’ve been dead too long. Blackberrys haven’t existed for like… ten years.”

Ash gives him a genial middle finger and Dean grins. Charlie sits up on the pool table and Dean leans against it next to her. “Listen, Charlie, I gotta. I gotta say sorry, again, for…” He clears his throat. 

“Dying?” Charlie asks lightly.

“Uh, yeah.” 

“Not your fault, Dean.” She shrugs, and she actually manages to look cheerful. Damn, Dean loves this chick. She puts her hand on his shoulder and shakes her head. “Seriously, Dean. Let it go! I have! Seriously, I got to spend a few years with my high school girlfriend watching Lord of the Rings - she was a cheerleader - and sneaking out to design some fucking world-altering programs with Ash! Being dead, for me, it’s kinda amazing.” She smiles at him. “Guessing you don’t feel the same though, huh?” 

Dean swallows. He doesn’t know how much he wants to say about that, but being dead… it definitely sucks. And not in the good way. “Guess it just feels like I got more to do. Now, at least.” Now that Cas is… and heaven is…

Charlie looks like she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, they’re interrupted before she has to think of something.

“Eyo! Sorry, amigos,” he leans over backwards to look at them. “Found it.” 

Charlie jumps off the table and grabs Dean’s hand. After a few steps she shoves him with her shoulder until he bumps into Ash’s back. Dean bounces off his soft form and clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters, throwing a death glare back at his surrogate sister. She flashes him a smug grin before focusing back on the computer screen. 

Ash recovers from getting jostled in time to point. “Yeah, so, we got word on Angel FM that this Jack kid is goin’ real Jim Jones over here.” He holds a finger up at several paragraphs as he’s flipping through them. “Preachin’ all kinda love and peace and hippy commune shit, but if somebody even questions it, he snaps. Naomi no-likey,” He smirks up at Dean and points to a group of cuss-words even Dean barely uses. “Rough translation.” 

Dean shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like Jack.” Jack, especially Jack-with-a-soul, almost never got mad. I mean, he’d spent quality time with Lucifer without blowing up. The kid is level-headed to a fault. “Anything else?”

Ash frowns at him. “Y’know, going through angels’ personal phone calls is a lotta work.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius. Got anything else?” 

“Ash, what about the human rumors?” 

Ash looks at Charlie and they have a silent battle of wills, but Dean’s too impatient to see who wins. “What human rumors?” 

They pause and come to an agreement. “Fighting. People fighting. Couples. Families. Friends. All over, since the reboot. People are happy, but… it’s like earth. People can talk - people can fight.” 

“And?” Dean raises his eyebrows. There’s something they’re not telling him, and he thinks he knows what.

Ash raises them right back. He’s not about to divulge. “Hombre, this ain’t earth. People are supposed to be happy. If they ain’t… like a glitch in the matrix, y’know?

Dean grunts. “Anything else weird on the radio? Anything at all.” 

Ash’s sigh sounds labored. He leans back in his chair and wobbles, obviously sorting through all the enochian bullshit he’s read over the past… whenever. “Meh… I got… I don’t know, God was singing?” 

“Singing? Singing what?” Dean leans in, intent. If it was Taylor Swift, Beyonce, maybe Lizzo… 

Ash cocks an eyebrow. “Folk shit. Indie music.” 

That’s what Dean was afraid of. “Shit.”

“Why? What does that mean?” Charlie grabs onto his arm. 

Dean’s worst fears, that’s what. “It means that ain’t my kid. It’s Chuck.” 

“Who the hell is that?” Ash stands up as Dean walks away, cursing every stupid atom that had decided to make this dumb universe. Although, he guesses, that was Chuck’s purview too. 

“He’s god! God before the reboot I mean, the dick who up and left and only came back to screw me and Sam over. Fuck, I thought we’d finally gotten out from under his thumb! Now, apparently, he’s just using my kid for his meat-suit.” Dean takes a deep breath. This is bad. Worse than bad-bad. 

“So… what do we do? How do we nuke God?” Charlie asks the question like it’s normal, just another Saturday afternoon. 

Dean thumps his forehead onto the nearest table. Sure, sure, good, great. They were back to square fucking one. “I don’t fucking know,” 

“Alright, break it down. We need more mojo, right? How do we get more mojo?” 

“Well, angels are the next best thing, right? Maybe if we get them all together, they’re obviously not psyched about folk-God, or whatever,”

Ash points at her like she’s a genius. “Alright, yeah!” 

“Guys, there aren’t enough angels left to even try.” Dean feels hopeless. There’s nothing to do. They are literally out of options. There’s no hope. 

“Well, where can we get some more angels, then?” 

Dean stands up. “I know a place.” His heart feels like it’s being squeezed like a lemon. It’s a crazy idea. It’s practically impossible. And probably suicide. And he’s gotta find a way. “We gotta break open the Empty.” 

“The Empty?” Ash looks skeptical. Dean smirks. 

“Yeah, angel/demon afterlife. We punch our way in there and we’ve got juice for days, man.” He spreads his arms out, asks the question. 

Ash glances at Charlie then back at Dean. He sniffs and nods. “I’m in.” 

Dean looks to Charlie, who scoffs. “Duh. Of course. So what, we get in and say pretty please help us kill your dad?” 

A warm feeling spreads through Dean’s chest. “Well, we’ll have a little help on the inside. Cas.”

“Castiel? The angel dude?” 

“He’s dead?” Charlie’s voice has much more concern than Ash’s. Dean nods in response to both questions. It still makes him feel like he’s swallowing glass to think about it. “What happened?” 

Dean looks down at his boots. It’s only the scene that keeps playing on repeat behind his eyelids. Cas crying, holding onto his shoulder, telling him… telling him goodbye. Telling him that. “He saved me.” he starts, expression guarded. “He made a deal.” 

Ash grunts and nods, ready to drop it. Charlie stays quiet too, but she clearly wants to say something. Dean’s thankful for the drop. He doesn’t know what he’d say if they asked more. All he knows is that he needs Cas back. And he needs to talk to him. He needs to tell him that - that he wants him to just stay fucking put, damn it. That he needs to stop dying on him. And that he can’t just go and say something like that and then leave. It’s a bitch-ass move. 

“Yo, Deano?” 

Dean jerks his head back up. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“How do we jail-break ‘em?” 

“Guessing we’re gonna need some serious magic shit. And since we can’t get to Rowena…” 

Ash breaks into a wide grin. “Pamela? I’ll give her a call.” 

Pamela is “busy,” so they have to wait for her to finish up with Jesse before she can come by. Dean has to hand it to her, it’s just about the most Pamela thing in the world to put off their realms-saving work for a heavenly hookup. Dean hangs around talking for a bit, filling his friends in on the latest on Earth, but he can’t concentrate. Ever since they’d decided the next thing is to get into the Empty, he can’t relax. He takes his beer and goes outside to wait, settling down on the Roadhouse’s front step to watch for Pamela.

After a bit, Charlie plops down next to him, a soft grin on her lips. He returns it half-heartedly before looking out across the clearing. She leans her head against his shoulder. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence before she turns into him. “So we gotta get into the Empty.” she sighs. Dean nods glumly. Just his fucking luck. Even heaven is ruined. But at least… at least they’ve got a shot. “And get Castiel.” 

Dean frowns and pulls away to look at her. Maybe it’s just his paranoia, but he hears some deeper meaning in her voice. “The guy died for me. I gotta,” he presses his lips together, hating himself for the half-lie he’s telling. Cas deserves better. Charlie just nods and watches, like she’s waiting for him to keep going. When he manages to talk again, his voice cracks. “We gotta get him, Charlie.” 

Charlie pulls him into a side hug. “I always said he was dreamy, that angel.” She points out. Dean snorts. He remembers. He’d blushed like an idiot after she said that the first time. 

“Yeah.” He mutters. Okay, so she knows. That he and Cas are… that Dean’s… good. Cas deserves recognition. He deserves someone to talk about him. For Dean to talk about him. But then Charlie just hasn’t spoken, and he feels like he needs some explanation. “I… there were other guys, before him.” He continues, clearing his throat. His mind wanders to Benny and Lee, Crowley. “But he’s… he’s it.” 

He risks a look at Charlie and she is just staring at him with a fond smile. She surges forward and kisses his cheek, squealing. “Yes, I fucking knew it, you bisexual dumbass! Bi, right?” 

Dean laughs. “Yeah, I guess- wait, you knew?” 

Charlie looks around, like Dean’s a dumbass it was so obvious. “Well, yeah, dude. Game recognize game.” She motions between the two of them and he scoffs. That’s right. Gaydar. That would’ve been nice to have for the last, oh, 12 years? “We’ll get him back.” 

Dean pulls Charlie in for another hug and leaves her tucked under his arm until a motorcycle pulls up and Pamela gets off, shaking her hair loose like a blind slow-motion model in a porno. She grins at the pair on the steps like she can see them. “Take a picture, you two. It’ll last longer.”

“How did you-”

She throws a hand out in dismissal. “Please, I can feel ogling from a mile away.” She pauses, laughing at the embarrassed silence Charlie and Dean are sporting. “Nah, I’m just joking. I do the hair-shake for a reason. I deserve a good stare. Hell, it’s half the reason I own this motorcycle.” She throws her helmet in the general direction of the motorcycle and greets her friends. Dean can’t decide whose hug is more flirty, his or Charlie’s. 

“Alright, bitches. Let’s séance some shit.” 

tag list: (ask or dm to be removed or added)

@dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beach Waves (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: One morning, you wake up to find yourself on a tropical island with a man claiming to be your fiance. When he tells you that you’re suffering from a case of amnesia after a diving accident, you want to believe him. But you can’t shake the feeling that your “fiance” isn’t being completely honest with you...

Hello, guys! So this is my submission for @imanuglywombat​‘s ‘The Ugliest Wombat Challenge’! I used the Beach Babes moodboard, and I hope you guys like my story! Let me know what you think. 

Warning: This story is DARK! It contains non con and dub con, so please read at your own risk! 

The first thing you registered when you woke up was the sound of waves crashing on the beach. You smiled and snuggled into the sheets beneath you, the scent of water thick in the air as a breeze drifted in through the window. You didn’t remember leaving your window open, nor did you remember putting on a playlist of ocean waves before going to sleep. Come to think about it, you were stretched out pretty far on the mattress beneath you; typically, you’d have at least a foot sticking out if you laid like this on your twin-sized mattress at home…

Your eyes shot open, and you saw pure white sheets obstructing your vision. When you sat up, you took in the large bedroom around you; chestnut wood made up the floors and walls, and there were huge windows decorated with sheer curtains directly to your right. What lay beyond the windows was what really surprised you, though.

A pristine beach with white sand and turquoise water lay on its other side, palm trees dotting the shoreline every hundred yards or so.

“Well,” you whispered to yourself, “as far as dreams go, this is pretty good.”

You stretched your stiff limbs and stood up from the bed, feeling a plush faux-fur rug beneath your feet. You frowned, wiggling your toes around in the material; it felt real. You took a few cautious steps over to the window, looking out over the scene beyond; the breeze blowing into the room felt real, too.

There were no people out on the beach, and there had been no one in the room when you woke up. With the same frown plastered onto your face, you opened the first door you came to, but it only led out into a bathroom. There was a large, open window in it, too, right in front of the bathtub. You imagined how peaceful it must be to take a bath while watching the sunset, but you shook that thought away. With every passing moment, this was seeming like less of a dream and more of an impossible reality, and you needed to find out which one was the truth.

The next door you came to opened into a large, open room. There were sofas and chairs positioned around a huge tv, and beyond that there was a kitchen decked out with the newest appliances on the market. The room was full of windows, too, most of which were open.

You looked down at your body and realized with a start that you weren’t wearing your same old ratty pajamas, either; you were in a lacy, white nightgown that came down to your knees. The fabric was alarmingly sheer, revealing to anyone who might see that you were naked underneath it.

Feeling the first twinge of fear strike through you, you pinched yourself. When nothing changed, you did it again, hard enough to make you wince; there was no denying that you were awake.

You were about to start panicking when you saw the note. Over on the dining table, there was a crisp sheet of white paper folded down the middle, and your name was on written on the front of it with messy handwriting. Padding over on your bare feet, you picked the paper up and opened it.

Hey, doll. If you’re reading this, then I’ll be back soon. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.

There was no signature to be seen, and after rereading the short paragraph, you walked into the kitchen as instructed; you were feeling pretty hungry. Your eyes landed on a bowl of fruit, and you took out a banana before going over to the fridge. It was chock full of food, but you only grabbed a bottle of water from it before walking back to the dining table and starting to peel the banana.

Don’t freak out, you were telling yourself. There’s probably a logical reason why you’re here. Maybe you have amnesia, and this is like 51st Dates. Maybe there’s a glitch in the Matrix or something. Maybe-

You were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you, and you stood up and turned around so fast that your head spun with the movement.

Standing behind you was, quite possibly, the most attractive man you’d ever seen. He had long brown hair that came down to his chin, and it was wet. In fact, his whole body was wet, and the only thing he was wearing were a pair of black swim trunks. You quickly focused on his left arm; it was made entirely out of metal. You could see the angry seam of scar tissue where it met his shoulder, and after your eyes ran along the line of the metal, they couldn’t help but trial downwards to the impressive six-pack he was sporting.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he smiled, walking over to you. “Sorry for leaving you like that; I just went down to the beach for a swim.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but after a moment you just shut it again. The man arched his eyebrows at you, raising his flesh hand and pressing it against your forehead.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “You look confused.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, your voice still raspy from sleep. “I am confused. Where am I?”

The man frowned, letting his hand fall back down to his side.

“We’re on Tony’s island, baby,” he explained. “We came here on vacation, remember? To celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” you echoed. He smiled again, though there was a glint of confusion in his eyes.

“Our engagement?” You watched, dumfounded, as he lifted your left hand, holding it up to show off the gorgeous ring resting upon it. It was made of white gold, a breathtaking diamond resting in its center surrounded by a thin ring of opal.

“…Engagement?”

“Baby, you do remember, don’t you? I asked you at the party?”

Your mind was completely blank, and the concern on his face only grew when you shook your head.

“I… There has to be some kind of mistake,” you assured him. “I… I don’t know who you are. We’ve never met.”

“…Shit.” He shook his head, setting his hand on the side of your face ever so gently. For some reason, the contact didn’t bother you. “Honey, I know you hit your head hard yesterday, but I had no idea that it was this bad.”

“I hit my head?”

“Yeah. We went swimming together, and you dove in where the water was shallow. Hit your head on a rock. I carried you back here, and at first you were fine, just a little dazed. But now…”

You felt your heart sink like a rock, and you tried to remember something, anything, of what this guy was telling you.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” you spoke. “But the last thing I remember was going to bed in my dorm room; I’m in college.”

“Hon, you graduated six months ago, the week after we met. You seriously don’t remember?”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt as he bowed his head, letting out a sigh.

“I… I’m really sorry,” you whispered. “Um… What is your name?”

The man gave you a sad half-smile, letting his hand fall to your shoulder.

“…My name is James,” he said. “But you’ve always called me Bucky.”

________

You were seated on a beach towel, running your hand along the soft, warm sand to your right. Despite having a wicked case of amnesia, you supposed that it was very nice here.

Bucky had really been so understanding of the situation; he’d made you sit still while he checked out the bump on your head (it was hardly noticeable at this point, but your head had felt a bit tender when he’d touched it, which only further convinced you that he was telling the truth). After that, he’d let you know that he didn’t have any way of communicating with anyone off the island. But, before the two of you had left, he’d scheduled a small plane to pick the two of you up eight days later.

In the meantime, all that was left to do was relax and enjoy your vacation as much as possible. After saying you’d like some time alone to think, he’d quickly gotten you a beach towel and suggested you lay out in the sun for a little bit.

So now, as you lay there, you tried to rack your brain for anything at all that struck you as familiar about Bucky. You really did feel bad for him; if what he was saying was true, and you really believed that it was, then it must be hard on him. As you pondered his face, you did feel as if he was a little bit familiar. His eyes were what caught on your memory; you swore that you’d seen him before.

“Honey?”

You jumped and turned around, looking up to see Bucky standing next to you. He was still only wearing his swim trunks, but a pair of aviator sunglasses were perched on his nose as well, and he was holding two cups of what looked to be some kind of blended beverage.

“Hey, Bucky.” You tried to smile at him, sitting up on your elbows. “Whatcha got there?”

“Well, I know you said you wanted to be alone for a little bit,” he started. “And I promise I’ll get out of your hair if you still want me to, but I made pina coladas for us…”

You laughed, picturing a buff guy like him making such a girly cocktail, but you gladly took the glass he offered you.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind if you sat with me for a little bit,” you said. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“I’m sure you do.” Bucky sat down beside you, not batting an eye as he rested in the sand. You giggled again as he took a sip through the straw in his drink; it was pink to match yours.

“You know,” you joked, “you strike me more as a whiskey kind of guy.”

“I was for the longest time,” he smiled. “But after you ordered one of these things at the bar we go to on the weekends, I tried one and, uh… Well. Let’s just say that this isn’t the first time you’ve teased me about it. But they’re good.”

“Happy’s?” you asked. “Is that the bar you’re talking about?”

“The one and only. It’s where we had our first date.”

You sipped your drink, humming when the alcohol left just the slightest burn down your throat.

“Tell me about it?” You turned to him, giving him a smile. “Maybe if you tell me about our life together, I’ll start to remember it.”

Bucky smiled and took your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting it fall back into the sand.

“That’s an excellent idea, baby,” he praised, smirking as your eyelashes fluttered.

“So, like I said, our first date was at Happy’s,” he began. “We were both there alone; your friends had cancelled on you, and I had just moved to the area, so I had no friends to speak of. I was sitting there when you walked up and I just… I knew that you were something special.

“I watched you for a little bit afterwards,” he admitted, giving you a sheepish smile. “And you didn’t even notice. But, eventually, I worked up the courage to do something about those butterflies you’d put in my stomach. I asked if I could buy you a drink, and you said yes, and, well… The rest is history.”

You smiled; you still couldn’t for the life of you recall this ever happening, but it was a nice thought.

“So you watched me for a while, huh? Like some kind of creep?”

He laughed at your joke, but his jaw ticked and his eyes shifted away from you as he did.

“I didn’t mean that,” you assured him. “You seem…really nice, actually. Tell me more about us.”

Bucky’s smile softened, and he started telling you story after story about the six months you’d known each other for. He told you about your parents’ first reactions to him, about how he’d helped you stay up all night studying for your finals just five days after meeting you, about the first kiss you shared. You’d felt as if your cheeks were on fire during the entirety of that story, but you’d still listened with a smile.

“When was the first time you told me that you loved me?” you suddenly asked, and a sly smirk stretched across his face.

“Who says I have?”

You chuckled and shoved his shoulder.

“Some fiancé you are,” you giggled.

“You know I’m joking, baby,” he grinned. You still couldn’t get used to his little pet names for you, but you also couldn’t help but adore them.

“I told you that I loved you after we dated for…about two weeks,” he recalled. “It was a little soon, I knew, but… I needed you to know. We’d gone out to dinner that night, and afterwards we’d gone back to my place to watch a movie. I can’t even remember what the movie was called, but I know that it made you laugh. And before I knew it, I was telling you.”

You smiled, scooting closer to him.

“Did I say that I loved you back?” you asked. Bucky smiled mischievously.

“You did later on that evening,” he winked. “It was also the first time we made love, you see.”

Your eyes widened and you turned back towards the beach, biting your lip when you heard Bucky laugh.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, setting his metal hand on your back. “I didn’t mean to make you all flustered.”

You turned back to him and gave him a half-smile, allowing him to let his hand rest against your shoulder. All of a sudden, you felt painfully aware of the heat of his eyes on yours, of the skimpy, see-through dress you were wearing.

Without warning, you stood up, feeling guilty when you saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I, um… I’m getting pretty hot out here,” you rushed to explain. “Do I have any swimsuits? I think I might go for a dip.”

Bucky once again was all smiles, and he stood up beside you, collecting your now-empty glasses from where you’d rested them in the sand.

“Do I have a swimsuit, she asks,” he joked. “She does, in fact, have a drawer full of them.”

You followed him inside, definitely not watching his impeccable back muscles as he led the way. He told you that they were in the top-left drawer of the dresser in the bedroom before going into the kitchen to wash the glasses, and you took that as your que to get dressed.

A few moments later, you were face to face with at least seven different bikinis. All of them were different colors and made of different materials, but they were all equally revealing. After making sure the door was locked, you took off your thin cover-up and eventually settled on a white bikini made out of a braided, rope-like material. It seemed to be the most modest one from the collection, but you still pulled your lacy dress on over it.

When you walked out into the living area, Bucky was sitting at the dining table, tapping away at a tablet.

“I thought we didn’t have contact with anyone off the island?” you spoke up. Bucky’s head snapped up to you, but his surprised expression was soon replaced with a smile.

“Oh, I was just using this to read,” he explained, locking the tablet. “I see that you picked out my favorite one.”

He pointed to the bikini, and you blushed, regretting that you hadn’t chosen a thicker dress to wear over it.

“I, um… I’m gonna go swimming now, if its ok,” you said.

“That’s fine, hon,” he assured you, waving you off towards the door. “I’m gonna finish with this last chapter and then I’ll join you.”

You didn’t tell him that you were absolutely fine with him staying there and leaving you to swim alone, but that was how you felt as you rushed out the door. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Bucky, but it was just odd, being around a man who seemed to know everything about you while you knew nothing about him. And you weren’t naive; you’d seen how his eyes had been lingering on you all day. You had no doubt that the two of you had had sex before, but you couldn’t remember it. It might as well have been as if he’d never touched you at all.

As you waded into the ocean, you closed your eyes and let yourself float, letting the sea move your body with its waves. The last you remembered, it had been January, but now, six months later, it had to be July. You’d been living in New York for college, and all you could remember about the weather was it being cold and, more often than not, damp with either snow, sleet, or rain. Now, though, it was perfect – warm, but not too hot. And there was a constant breeze from the ocean.

You let yourself relax, the waves soothing your nerves. Was it really so bad? After eight days, Bucky could take you to a doctor, and hopefully they would be able to help you regain your memory. And until then, you were stuck on a gorgeous island with a gorgeous man who very clearly loved you. Maybe you could stop questioning it. Maybe you could be happy.

After spending a good hour swimming through the waves, you dried off and trudged back inside, your limbs feeling heavy after all of the exertion. When you walked past the living room, you saw Bucky poke his head out from the kitchen, giving you a smile.

“Have a good swim?” he called out.

“It was amazing,” you gushed. “But now I need a shower and some dry clothes.”

“Well, once you’re done, come back out and eat dinner! I’m attempting to make a stir fry.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“I bet it’ll be great, Bucky.”

With that, you walked into the bathroom, running a bath for yourself. You thought about Bucky as you washed, about how mysterious he was. You still didn’t know why he had a metal arm; you didn’t know where he was from or what he was like as a person. But, despite how silly it might have been, you wanted to trust him. He seemed like a good man.

It took you a surprisingly long time to find something to wear that was modest enough to make you comfortable. You found, right next to the drawer of bikinis, a drawer full of lingerie. Your face warmed up as you looked over the lace and silk, imagining packing them to wear for Bucky. Which set was his favorite, you wondered? Which of these had you worn for him before?

You pushed those thoughts away, pulling on a pale pink bra with its matching panties. Most of the dresses hanging up in the closet were similar to the lace one from before, but you managed to find a simple one made out of soft gray cotton.

You arranged your hair until you were satisfied with how it looked, and with one last glance in the mirror, you walked back out, heading into the kitchen.

Bucky was dividing the stir fry into two bowls for the both of you, wearing the same swim trunks but now with a white t-shirt on as well. He gave you a smile when you walked in, his eyes sliding up and down your body quickly before turning back to the task at hand. You tried to pull your dress down a little bit more, but no matter how you adjusted it, it still only came to about mid-thigh.

“You look lovely as always,” Bucky complimented. “If you would just set out a few waters for us on the table, then I think we’ll be all set to dig in.”

You nodded and did as he said, still flustered from his praise. You set out the waters and took a set when Bucky held your chair out for you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, and Bucky just gave you another close-lipped smile.

“Gotta take care of my girl,” he shrugged.

When he set your bowl down in front of you, your stomach gave a lout growl, and the both of you giggled at the sound.

“I guess I should’ve eaten more than just a banana today,” you chuckled.

“That’s all you had?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby, you gotta eat more than that. You’ll starve at this rate.”

“It must’ve been my accident,” you explained. “I didn’t wake up with much of an appetite.”

“Well…still. Going forward, I want you to make sure you eat enough.”

You frowned at his authoritative tone, but you still nodded.

“Ok, Bucky. I will.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and he finally took a bite of his food. You followed suit, letting out a hum; it was really good. So, he could cook, too. Of course he could.

“Um… Bucky?” You spoke up after a few minutes of silent eating. “Can I ask you some personal questions?”

“Of course you can, doll,” he assured you. “I’m sure they’re nothing you haven’t asked before.”

You bit your lip, your eyes shifting to his metal arm of their own accord. He followed your gaze and flexed his fingers.

“This?” he asked. When you nodded, he held his hand up, watching the metallic fingers wiggle a bit before letting it rest in his lap.

“A long time ago, I lost my arm in a war,” he eventually explained.

“Oh my gosh… Bucky, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you sympathized. “Which war was it?”

He hesitated, searching your face as his mouth opened to speak. After a moment, though, he closed it and looked back down at his food.

“Would if be ok if we didn’t…”

“Oh, Bucky, of course! I’m so sorry for prying,” you rushed to apologize. He gave you a half smile and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help the tiny, dreamy smile that came over your lips.

“It’s ok, baby,” he promised. “It’s just hard for me to think back to that time… It was so dark. Even after I, uh…recovered, things were still bad. But when I saw you… You make life seem bright again, doll.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you leaned over to press your forehead into his neck, reaching down to take his flesh hand in yours.

“Bucky,” you whispered, “that…was really cheesy.”

“Hey!” He grinned and reached over, tickling your ribs. You squeaked and scooted away, but Bucky didn’t let you get far.

“You think that’s nice? Picking on an old man like me?” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you.

“Bucky, c’mon,” you smiled. “You can’t be any older than, like, 32.”

His eyebrows shot up, and a deep laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I have you well and truly fooled, don’t I?”

You narrowed your eyes. Something in Bucky’s tone seemed…a little darker than it had been a few seconds ago. You couldn’t help but wonder if the two of you were still just talking about his age, and you were suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. Your chair was pressed flush against his, and you were very nearly perched on his lap.

Before you could move away, though, his lips were on yours – soft, chapped, insistent. The part of you that felt nervous before melted away as your body reacted; no one had ever kissed you like this. You parted your lips for his tongue, and as it swept into your mouth, you couldn’t help but think that this was what all those romance novels were talking about – this is what it felt like when a kiss was claiming.

You heard the clatter of bowls being pushed away before Bucky’s hands were on your hips, lifting you up to sit on the table in front of him. His lips pulled away from yours, red and swollen and slick, and he started lifting the skirt of your dress, sliding his hands over your thighs and kneading the soft flesh.

“Bucky…” you sighed, cupping his cheeks.

For a moment, the two of you were still as you looked into his eyes. Your fingers could feel the roughness of his stubble, and you ached to know what his coarse facial hair would feel like against your neck as he kiss you, against your thighs…

With a soft whimper, you pulled his lips back to yours, wrapping your arms around his neck. You knew that this was wrong; you didn’t know him. He was a stranger. You were trapped on an island with him, for god’s sake.

But this felt so right. You reasoned with yourself that this couldn’t have been your first kiss; the two of you had probably been intimate many times. You just couldn’t remember.

You gasped when Bucky pulled away and started lifting your dress up. You raised up your arms to help him get it off, and you felt as if your blood was on fire when he paused to look at your body. His eyes devoured you, lingering over your soft skin. You knew you had to look like a mess – panting as if you’d just ran a mile, lips still wet with his saliva.

But when Bucky’s hands traced the curve of your hips, running them up your belly and to your breasts, he was reverent. He whispered your name before leaning back in, attaching his lips to your neck as he pushed your bra down. Your back arched of its own accord when his thumbs started teasing your nipples; your mind slipped into a haze when he sucked over your pulse point.

All of a sudden, you felt him bite you while pinching your nipples at the same time, and the shocks of pain send a wave of heat right down to your core. You threw your head back and moaned as he licked over the bite mark soothingly, your hands settling in his long hair while he moved down to bite at the soft flesh of your breasts.

“Bucky…” He let out a groan when you moaned his name, and you let yourself lay down on the table as he leaned over your body.

His tongue was tracing one of your nipples when his fingers trailed down to your panties, gripping the hem of them between his two hands and ripping. You gasped as he tore away the thin fabric, tossing it behind him. You were about to protest; you’d liked those panties, but then he rolled your nipple between his teeth, and every word you were about to say fizzled out into white noise.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pulling away to look up at you. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows to meet his eyes, and he gave you a half-smirk as he moved further down your body.

His hands pushed your thighs apart and his eyes raked over your pussy hungrily. You bit your lip as he pressed a kiss to the top of your mound, and you braced yourself for what you knew was coming next.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Bucky pushed his tongue past your lips, licking a long, flat line from your entrance to your clit. You closed your eyes and hummed as he flattened his tongue against your bud, lapping at it softly; he had definitely done this before.

The sound of his tongue running along your sensitive flesh seemed to echo in the room, and as obscene as it was, it only made you feel more desperate for him. Your hands tugged on his hair, eliciting a gravelly moan from him.

“Faster,” you begged. “Bucky, please…”

You saw him smirk as he complied with your request, starting to trace tiny little circles against your clit. Your toes curled at the sensation, and you thought that you could cum just like that, with his tongue flicking against your bud incessantly.

But then you felt a cold, smooth finger slide past your entrance, and your eyes flew open in time to catch a flash of sliver against your pussy. Your moan was embarrassingly loud as he added a second finger before thrusting gently. You covered your hand with your mouth, but the second you did so, Bucky pulled his mouth away.

“Nuh-uh, baby,” he chided. “Take that hand away; I wanna hear you.”

You whined but did as he said, moving your hand back into his hair. He gave you a smile before he started moving his fingers again, curling them in a way that had you seeing stars. His tongue found your clit once more, using just the smallest bit of teeth to start sucking on it.

“Bucky-!” you cried, hips rocking up against his face of their own accord.

“That’s right, doll,” he rumbled. “No one but me can here you out here. Be as loud as you fucking want.”

It only took a few more minutes of his attentions before you felt that familiar coil starting to build up in your belly. Your moans turned incomprehensible; broken syllables that might have belonged to his name were flying past your lips, but Bucky seemed to understand what you needed perfectly.

“Want you to cum on my face, baby,” he growled. “Give it to me, doll, right fucking now-“

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you were gone, muscles tensing and back arching almost painfully as you came. Bucky slowed his fingers, letting you ride it out while lapping gently at your clit. Your eyes were closed but you swore you saw galaxies behind them, and you only came back down to Earth when your clit became too sensitive. You hissed and tried to pull away, and finally he moved away from your swollen bud, lapping instead at your entrance.

“You taste so sweet,” he sighed, licking up as much of your cum as he could before pulling away.

You opened your eyes and nearly groaned at the sight of him; his hair was wild from you pulling it, a few strands falling down into his eyes as they stared intensely back at you. His stubble was slick with your juices, his lips a bright red as he licked them. Your eyes trailed down, and you could see the tent in his swim trunks from how hard he was.

Before you knew it, you were being lifted up into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, and your limp, spent body leaned against his broad chest.

“Oh, baby,” he mumbled. “I hope you don’t think we’re done yet.” He nudged the bedroom door open with his toe and marched over to the bed, laying you out on it before starting to lift his shirt off. “Just didn’t wanna fuck you against the table. Not tonight.”

Your eyes widened and your body felt significantly less relaxed when he shoved his trunks down; his cock was huge, the biggest you’d ever seen in person. It was thick and long, even bigger than any of the toys you’d used on yourself in the past. You gulped and looked back up at him, squirming a bit when you saw the smirk on his face.

“What is it, baby?” he asked in a falsely innocent tone. He crawled over you, spreading your legs again so he could lay between them. “Don’t go getting shy on me now; the fun only just began.”

“Bucky, it…” You gulped, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just… you’re so big. You’re sure we’ve done this before?”

He chuckled and captured your lips with his, sliding his tongue along yours so you could taste yourself. You tried to relax into it, even when you felt the tip of his dick run up along your slit. But when he positioned himself at your entrance, you tried to pull away to say something, anything, to get him to wait for a second. You were still disoriented from cumming so hard before; you didn’t know if you could-

All of your thoughts faded into background noise as he pushed inside of you, stretching you painfully as inch by inch of his cock sank into your wet heat.

“O-oh, my god,” he panted. You could hear the gears in his left arm whirring as he gripped the sheets on either side of your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he finally bottomed out.

The pressure against your cervix ached, but you still tried to relax into the feeling. Your gripped onto his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh arm, but you needed something to ground yourself. He pulled back, leaving only his tip inside of you before thrusting back in, and you blinked away the tears in your eyes.

“Bucky, it hurts,” you begged. “Please-“

“I know it hurts, doll,” he moaned. “But just relax; I promise it’ll start feeling good soon. Just be a – fuck – just be a good girl and take it…”

He moaned as he started finding his rhythm, and you tried desperately to do as he said. You willed your pussy to relax against him, focusing so hard that you barely even registered him kissing you. Your wrists were being held down by his hands, and if his lips weren’t on yours, then they were on your neck, biting and sucking and leaving bright purple marks in their wake.

You didn’t know how long it took the pain to subside, but when it did, you opened your eyes to see a pair of stormy blue irises trained on you.

“I told you, baby,” he sighed. “Doesn’t that feel good now?”

You nodded your head blearily, wrapping your arms around his back as he started moving faster. The pain was still lingering, but alongside it there was a delicious pressure building up; he was hitting that same spot inside of you that his fingers had found earlier, and it wasn’t too long before you started moaning for him again.

“You’re so good for me, doll,” he breathed, breath hot against your ear. “Knew you would be fucking perfect…”

You could barely register his words as you felt your pleasure cresting, and you tried tugging your wrists free from his hold, needing to feel some kind of stimulation to your clit. You were so close; you just needed that little bit of contact to push you over the edge.

“Bucky, please,” you gasped, “Please, let me-“

He removed one of his hands from your wrists, but when you tried to bring it down to your pussy, he growled and pushed it away, replacing it with his.

“Let me,” he ordered, pressing one of his fingers against your aching bud. “I know what you need, baby. ‘ll take such good care o’ you…”

You let your head fall back as you felt your thighs twitch; you were close, you were so close. You didn’t even realize that you were begging him for your release, staring up at him with unseeing eyes as you frantically moved your hips against his.

With a few more snaps of his hips, though, you saw Bucky’s eyes widen, and when you felt his hot cum coating your inner walls, you finally felt yourself burst, cumming around his dick so hard that you screamed for him. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his cock, and you heard Bucky let out a growl at the sensation.

He rolled his hips a few more times, lazily riding out the high, and you tried your best to kiss him back when his lips landed on yours again. You were quickly succumbing to exhaustion, though; between your shocking discovery this morning, your long swim, and being fucked until you were nearly passing out, your body ached for sleep.

You didn’t open your eyes as Bucky rolled over onto his back, pulling you to lay against his side.

“I love you so much, doll,” he whispered, and you smiled when you felt his lisp descend onto your forehead.

You drifted off to sleep quickly after that, but somewhere in the back of your mind, your brain was nagging at you, telling you that something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he answered when you’d asked if you guys had fucked before? And what had be meant a few minutes ago when he’d said he’d known you’d be perfect?

You shook away your thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the feeling of Bucky’s chest rising and falling beneath your cheek. It wasn’t long before you drifted off, but even while you were asleep, you couldn’t escape your anxiety. Your dreams were plagued by the feeling of being watched, by blue eyes staring at you from across a crowded bar, by waking up to see a shadowy figure looming over your mattress back in your dorm while you slept.

But the dreams were only that, right? Only dreams? They had to be, because the alternative was too horrible to be true.

______

The next few days went by surprisingly quick. You and Bucky spent the days together on the beach for the most part – swimming, sunbathing, getting tipsy off the drinks Bucky would mix for you. Or, rather, you were the only one to get tipsy. Bucky had this crazy high tolerance to alcohol, as it turned out.

Every day, you would ask him questions about your life together or about his life apart from you. You learned that he had a best friend named Steve and that they’d fought in ‘the war’ together. He never told you where he fought or how he’d lost his arm, but you never pried.

He also told you stories about your time as a couple. He described dates you two had been on, gifts you’d gotten for each other, how your family had behaved while meeting him for the first time this last December. He didn’t have any family himself, but he spoke so fondly of yours that you got the sense that he considered them to be just as much his family as they were yours.

When the two of you weren’t on the beach, like the fourth day, when it had rained, you watched movies together. Bucky hadn’t seen most of your favorite movies; he was an old fashioned kind of guy. He spent most of the movie on his tablet, reading that same book he seemed so obsessed with. He never let you see it when you’d asked to, asking if he could wait until he finished the last few chapters before loaning to you, and you hadn’t pushed it.

On your seventh day on the island, you woke up feeling pleasantly sore from the previous night. The two of you had been having a lot of sex ever since that first night. You suspected that the two of you were slowly working your way through the Karma Sutra, what with all of the new positions Bucky had coerced you into trying. Last night had involved your legs bent into a shape that you could only describe as pretzel-esque, but you hadn’t complained when Bucky made you cum twice before he was finished with you.

Now, though, you woke up to a surprisingly empty bed; Bucky had made it a point to spend lazy mornings in bed cuddling. (And if those cuddles turned into morning sex, then all the better.) But today there was only a piece of paper next to you, just like there had been on your first morning.

Going out for a swim; you looked too peaceful to wake up. Love you.

You smiled at the note before placing it on your nightstand and getting up, stretching with a sigh. You saw Bucky’s gray t-shirt from the night before laying on the ground right next to the hamper, and you walked over and pulled it on, excited to see what his reaction to you wearing his clothes would be. You could imagine the dark look in his eyes even now, and you didn’t fight the excited grin that came to your lips as you walked to the kitchen to make breakfast.

You settled on some oatmeal for that morning, popping it in the microwave before realizing that Bucky’s tablet was laying on the counter next to the stove. You picked it up, opening it before you thought anything about it; you only wanted to see what he’d been reading.

You frowned, though, when it opened straight into a text exchange; you’d thought Bucky said you didn’t have a way of communicating off of the island. The name “Steve” was at the top of the screen, and you started to scroll up through the texts.

The last few were just Steve “checking in” on Bucky. You scrolled past those, stopping only when you saw a longer one from Bucky’s friend.

So when am I going to get to meet this mystery girl?

After we get back from vacation, punk. Can’t have you scaring her off just yet.

You know I’m happy for you, Buck, but it seems a little fishy. You’ve only known this girl for, what, a month?

Your blood ran cold when you read Bucky’s reply.

It’s been two months, jackass. But I know she’s the one, ok? Just trust me. You’ll get to meet her soon.

Your heart was hammering when you swiped down on the page, staring at the date unbelievingly.

“I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

You dropped the tablet to the floor with a clatter, turning to see Bucky standing behind you, his arms crossed against his chest, his swim trunks still dripping with ocean water. You gulped, backing up until you felt the small of your back bump against the countertop.

“…Bucky,” you gulped. “…How long have we really known each other?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back against his head.

“Does the answer really matter?”

“Yes, it fucking matters!” you screamed. “You told me we’ve been together for six months, that I’ve been out of college for six months. If that’s true, then how is it still January?”

Bucky looked to be at a loss for words, and both of you jumped when the microwave let out its long beep. Shaking your head, you stomped over to him and shoved his chest, trying to move his body out of the doorway. He didn’t budge, though, so you kept desperately trying to move him.

“You lied to me!” you shouted. “I never had amnesia, did I?” You looked up when Bucky said nothing, feeling a twinge of fear at the blank look in his eyes. “…Bucky, I never had amnesia. Did I?”

The man sighed and put his hands on your shoulders.

“…No,” he finally admitted. “You don’t have amnesia.”

You felt as if your body had been dunked into a pool of ice water, and for a long moment you couldn’t move. You could only stare up at the man you’d spent the last week with, begging for him to explain with your wide, frightened eyes.

“I was going to tell you,” he sighed, rubbing your back. “After we’d spent the eight days with each other, I was gonna come clean. I just… I needed you to give me a chance. I needed you to see how good we could be together-“

“Oh my god,” you sighed, stumbling backwards away from him, a hand pressed to your mouth as tears started falling down your cheeks. “Oh, my god… I had sex with you. I trusted you; I thought that I might even love you-“

Bucky’s chest expanded with a silent gasp, and his eyes widened as he took a step towards you.

“You… You love me?”

You scoffed at the question and shoved past him, storming into the living room.

“Not anymore,” you spat. You turned around to face him, feeling a torrent of anger at the tears in his eyes. He had no right to feel that way – he was the one who’d hurt you.

“Everything you told me was a lie,” you shouted. “The dates, the way we met, everything! How do I even know if your name is really Bucky?”

“It is Bucky,” he insisted. “And we can make what I said true! We can go on those dates; I can meet your family. We can build the exact same life together that I told you about!”

You gulped when you saw the manic look in his eyes, shaking your head as you continued to back away towards the door.

“You’re fucking insane,” you whispered. You could see how hard those three words hit him; he looked as if you’d just slapped him, and you let out a scream when he started marching towards you.

You turned on your heel and ran out onto the beach, not knowing where you were going as you fled. But you didn’t even get to the shoreline before Bucky had tackled you. He forced you onto your back in the sand, trapping your thighs between his knees and pinning your wrists down on either side of your head.

“Stop it!” he shouted. “Just give me a chance to explain-“

“I’m not giving you anything else,” you yelled back. “I gave you my body and my trust and you lied to me! You took advantage of me! How did I even get to this island, huh? Did you kidnap me? Drug me in my sleep and cart me away to a private island for psychopaths?!”

You’d only been throwing wild accusations out at him, but from the guilty expression on his face, you saw that you’d struck a nerve.

“Oh my god,” you murmured. “That’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?”

Bucky gritted his teeth and growled, squeezing your wrists until you cried out in pain.

“I am not,” he spat, “crazy. I’m in love with you, (Y/N). And I wanted to do it the right way; I gave you time to notice me. I’d go to that bar every single Sunday, watching you, begging you to see me. And one time, you know what? You did. Your eyes looked right into mine, and I thought that that was it; I thought you’d finally seen me. But do you know what you did next?”

You gulped, watching as his face got more and more red with the force of his yelling.

“Bucky-“

“You fucking turned away,” he continued. “You let some other asshole buy you a drink. All I wanted was for you to give yourself to me, but instead you forced me to take you instead-“

“You’re fucking crazy!” you screamed, bringing your knee up against his stomach. He grunted, doubling over for a second, and you tore your wrists away from him and squirmed away, stumbling through the wet sand as you willed your legs to move as fast as they could.

You only made it a few yards before Bucky’s hand grabbed your arm, turning you back to him so forcefully that you thought he might have given you whiplash. He pulled your body against his, using his impossible strength to keep you there.

“Stop fucking struggling,” he growled. “You’re gonna make me do something we both regret.”

You flailed frantically, but it wasn’t enough; you were no match for his strength. He pushed you back into the sand roughly, shoving your shirt up until it was bunched up right under your breasts. Your heart caught in your throat when he brought his hand down hard on your pussy, and you wailed as the sting seemed to reverberate through your entire body.

“You still don’t see it, do you?” He wrapped his metal hand around your neck, keeping you pinned there as he shoved his shorts down with his free hand. “That’s fine, doll, don’t worry. I’ll just have to show you again, won’t I? How well we fit together?”

Your eyes widened as he started stroking his half-hard cock, and you once more struggled, flailing your limbs around desperately. The hand on your throat only tightened, though, and you had to stop as it became a struggle to inhale. Your ears were ringing by the time he was fully hard, and when he loosened his grip on you, you inhaled greedily, gulping air into your lungs.

“Last change, dollface,” he growled. “If you promise to play nice, I’ll make this easy on you.”

Your eyes met his, narrowing at the threat that lay within them.

“Go to hell,” you growled. Bucky only laughed, though, roughly shoving your legs apart.

“Baby,” he chuckled darkly, “Hell is what made me.”

With that, he shoved his cock inside of you, clamping a hand down on your mouth to muffle the scream that came from it. It hurt; it was even more painful than the first night. Typically, when the two of you made love, he would make sure you were at least wet for him before entering you.

But this wasn’t making love; he gave you no time to adjust before he started slamming inside of you, spitting on his flesh hand and reaching down to coat his cock with it before continuing.

“Not wet for me, huh?” he grunted. “That’s fine, baby; I’ll take care of you.”

His hand rested beside your head, and his metal fingers tightened once more on your neck. You winced and still tried to weakly push against his chest, even though you knew that it was of no use. His strength was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

He was panting as he pounded into you, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your face. Keeping his hand your neck, his other trailed down to where your bodies were joining, pressing his fingers to your clit. You whined, trying to press your thighs together; it was too sensitive, too dry, to feel good.

“C’mon, doll,” he moaned, desperation clinging to his voice. “You were so responsive last night.”

He licked his hand, once more trying to coax your clit into feeling good, and you wanted to cry as it slowly started to feel good, softening the pain of him fucking into you and turning it into something more pleasant. You clawed against the grip he had on your throat, but he wouldn’t budge; you might as well have been trying to move an oak tree.

“There we go,” he moaned. “Now you’re starting to get wet – see? Told you I’d take care of you.”

You whined, feeling the corners of your vision starting to go black with lack of oxygen. Every sensation you felt was heightened; you were acutely aware of his cock inside of you, pressing against every bump and ridge of your inner walls. The week previous had conditioned you to like this, had made you crave the feeling of him stretch you, but you fought against that unwanted instinct.

Despite your best efforts, though, it was as if struggling against the pleasure only made it increase in its intensity. Every brush of his fingers against your clit felt like an electric shock, and before you’d even became consciously aware of it, your orgasm was hovering over you.

You tried to breathe deeply, tried to push the feeling down, but Bucky only moaned and shoved himself harder inside of you.

“I know you want to,” he breathed. “Cum for me again, baby. Just like you always do…”

He squeezed your neck even harder, and you felt your brain start to go fuzzy. The only thing you were aware of was the feeling in your core, and when you felt your orgasm finally, finally, come over you, you couldn’t even take a breath. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around him even as your eyes started to close. The ringing in your ears got louder, but somewhere far away, you could hear Bucky’s roar as he came.

Before you could fully process what was happening, though, your mind slipped into unconsciousness, just barely registering the sound of Bucky murmuring your name before you were gone.

________

Your head was pounding when you woke up, and the skin around your ankles felt sore and raw. You blinked open your eyes, wincing as the bright sunlight flooded your vision and stung your corneas.

“Oh, thank God.”

You turned to your left and saw Bucky perched on the side of the bed, leaning over you.

“I was afraid when you passed out on me like that,” he sighed, cupping your cheek.

You tilted your head away from him and looked down, seeing two lengths of ropes looped around your ankles, keeping them securely tied to the bed.

“Oh, that.” Bucky winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought it would be in both of our interests if you didn’t try to run again. I’ll take them off as soon as I’m confident that you won’t try anything again.”

You blinked away your tears and stared up at the ceiling, pointedly ignoring the hand still resting on your cheek.

“They’ll find out,” you warned him. “The people driving the plane. When they come tomorrow, I’ll tell them what you did.”

A look that was almost pitying came across Bucky’s face.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed. “Did you really believe that there was a plane coming for us tomorrow?”