#this is how i write my initial outlines

[hidey-writes]

six sentence sunday

Under Gu Yiran’s hands, the chicken van bumps along the uneven road like a living thing, and he tightens his grip against it. Beside him in the passenger seat, Zheng Bei stares out the side window in silence. Gu Yiran had made Zhao Xiaoguang show him the map, during one of the endless waiting afternoons in the hospital when Zheng Bei wasn’t there. He’d reached out to trace the circled spots, all three, the sleeve of his hospital shirt catching against the edge of the paper as Zhao Xiaoguang said, Ge wanted us to check all of them, even though he was pretty sure you could only be here, pointing. A cluster of rectangles marking the abandoned crematory buildings north of Halan. Zhao Xiaoguang had left a fingerprint smear of grease along the entry road, right where it ran along the train tracks.

another snippet from the start of ch5! it feels so weird to be back to down drafting now that ch1-4 have shifted the story so far from the original final chapter outline that literally none of the draft material is appropriate anymore lol but it's really enjoyable to just sit and type the most medium sentences in the world without having to do any higher-level thinking about pacing or subtext or anything :) brain off drafting my beloved :)

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

06/30/2025 Progress Update:

TLDR: Another 3.5Kish edited, so far 9.5K is completely done. We're about halfway through.

Idk what it was with editing today but my brain is absolute mush after it lol. I did go back and completely rework some prose in section 1 and 2, which was super frustrating but necessary, so I think my mind is giving up right now lmaoo.

We're about halfway done. From this point on is when the dialogue reigns supreme, so I'm anticipating this last half being a little easier. We've got one moment upcoming that I'm dreading editing lol just because I'm gonna spend an ungodly amount of time on it, but the rest I'm not too worried.

I'm passing tf out right now lol, I hope y'all have a lovely night!

[nellasbookplanet]

Because this is my blog and I cannot be stopped from rambling about writing, have a list of some fun facts and tidbits from working on Corruptive Shell, Rotten Core:

I'd been staunchly resisting writing a main games/portal stories mel crossover for ages with the excuse that even had I the energy to write it (I didn't), I had little plot in mind other than 'Chell and Mel hang out'. Then revolution dropped and ended on a cliffhanger on the moon, handing me not only an excuse to bring Wheatley back but also an excellent set-up for plot, and I could no longer resist.

The title Corruptive Shell, Rotten Core is, rather transparently, a reference to the facility itself being a corruptive force that rots everything within it, driving the plot that everyone must leave to have a chance at growing as people. It’s also, of course, a play on (personality) cores and Chell's name. Shockingly, I'm not known to be subtle.

I hadn’t played Aperture Tag when I started plotting, and thus the initial outline didn't feature Nameless or a co-opted Chell as antagonists. Instead, the planned antagonist was an alien AI that snuck in after Chell from the outside world and took over the facility. I scrapped this idea early on as it would require more extensive worldbuilding of the outside world, which I wanted to keep vague. I enjoyed the idea of the facility being a microcosm: once you're there, the outside world becomes irrelevant. Instead, Chell accidentally being teleported into Aegis' chamber and getting brainwashed was born.

Chell as an antagonist was a ploy to level the playing field between her, Glados and Wheatley. None of them can truly be forgiven, but if they’ve all at some point been drunk on power and attempted to kill the others, forgiveness becomes irrelevant. Also, I liked the symmetry of Chell+Wheatley fighting Glados, then Chell+Glados fighting Wheatley, and now Glados+Wheatley fighting Chell.

I played Aperture Tag after I'd already started writing, and immediately decided I needed to fit it into the narrative somehow. In the original outline, the story ended after Chell was convinced to leave with Glados, lacking a "true" antagonist. Personally, I think Nameless' addition made for a stronger and more explosive finale.

I very briefly played with the idea of making Chell and Nameless related/sisters, but discarded it as I felt it didn't fit the themes I was going with.

Nameless is supposed to mirror all the worst aspects of Chell, while also showcasing the damage Aperture has done and how the consequences of that might come back to bite them. While an antagonistic force, I view her more as a tragic figure of circumstance than as a villain.

Chell’s personality is based on several facts, among them 1: that she gets stabbed in the back multiple times and would be wary to trust as a result, and 2: word-of-god confirmation that she can talk, she just fucking hates all those robots.

Mel, meanwhile, is partly based on the fact that she was never betrayed and had a friend throughout, thus being much more open and trusting, and partly that I wanted someone very different from Chell to make their dynamic interesting.

I don’t know sign language. While I researched before writing and tried to be faithfull to it, I also took artistic liberties to make dialogue flow better. I hope it came off okay.

I adore Emilia, but part of what I wanted to portray with her is that she’s very much not only complicit but an active participant in Aperture's many crimes against humanity (I tried to do something similar with Virgil, which is highlighted in some of their conversations). I wanted to highlight her flaws, and how they very much exist despite being largely hidden behind her friendly and bubbly personality. She also lent herself well to explore the basics of machine sentience, as she’s both a creator of robots and an uploaded mind herself, thus seeing both sides of the issue.

Figuring out what I wanted Jane's personality to be like was a nightmare. For everyone else I had an idea of what they were like from the get go, but Jane was a big ?? in my mind. I spent ages on her introductory scene, eventually settling on 'how do you make a character that appears this late in the game not only quick to get in on the action, but also memorable? make her buckwild insane'.

Jane’s cyborg design is partially inspired by the concept art for the still-in-progress mod Portal Desolation!

While the humans are vastly different as people, I tried portraying them as all sharing the traits of 'good at rolling with the punches' and 'deeply pragmatic', as I could see no other way for them to survive the facility.

I often find portrayals of Chell and Glados in fic not to work for me. I can’t imagine Chell as soft or forgiving, or Glados (or Caroline) as victims rather than perpetrators of their own downfall. I wanted to really lean in to the messier aspects of both characters, and in what ways this messiness overlapped and drew them to each other, making them uniquely able to understand the other's perspective.

I knew from the very start that I wanted to end on Chell and Glados in the ruins of the outside world, neither fully human nor fully robot, and that the final lines would be Glados' aria playing as the facility shut down for good.

I love Virgil. Never have I encountered a character whose voice I have a harder time emulating.

I've never been very interested in humanoid glados designs (they're cool, but her canon design is so much more unique and interesting. also, I'm so sick of sexy lady robots, let her be inhuman), but I also knew I needed to get her out of the chassis for the latter half of the fic. Thus, portraying her in an android body while retaining her in-humaness became a balancing game.

I hadn’t played the half-life games when I started writing, and thus purposefully left the outside world vague as to leave open the possibility that they were still set in the same universe. By the time I reached the epilogue, I felt comfortable enough with half-life lore to include some explicit references. For the outside world, I imagine it being very solarpunk.

Originally, Chell and Glados didn’t discuss the Borealis in the epilogue but rather the Facility from Lightmatter, another puzzle game which while not officially part of the portal universe does include several references. I kinda regret not finding a way to include it, but as it was it no longer fit. Anyway, fun game, give it a go if you want a quick puzzle adventure with portal vibes!

[noahtally-famous]

funny how this fic started off as an "unserious" idea (not cracky, more so i didn't take it that seriously, it was basically so i could rotate certain characters from my head into a google doc), i didn't expect to care abt it as much as i do now like i have a basic chapter layout for half of the set chapter count, specific scenes prewritten, a planning doc with around five pages thus far, the basics (title, summary, etc), random scenes for it spinning around in my head, and a bit of chapter one and three pages of chapter four written 😭

and i started properly thinking stuff for and working on this fic like...two days ago

it was not supposed to be This Serious hfjkdhf

[spilling-blood]

I do love planning my entire long fics, writing paragraphs and paragraphs of plans, ideas, timelines, etc for each chapter. And then when I write I skip a bunch of it or change things and then strike through things in the outline (no deleting ofc) and chatter to myself like "you didn't do this silly" or for things I want to do and move forward "you skipped this dummy." It works super well for me.

[paigemathews]

Me: *responding to next gen asks* I'm gonna be succinct and straight to the point and not accidentally do a fucking seven season rewrite of the show. Ask: *gets over 1500 words long and only one kid is born at this point* Me: FUCK

[moonmoonthecrabking]

ughhhhhhhh i just don't know how to structure this essay

[pocket-ghostie]

I love organizing my google doc instead of writing anything <3 I love not writing and instead organizing all the ideas I put on the page <3 I love making sections and making funny titles <3 I love exprimenting with new ways to organize my writing <3

[jacky-rubou]

the 1st anniversary of my blind ford au is happening in a week on the seventh and I cannot believe it's been that long since i started this specific au. if i had gone with my previously normal plan to write everything before posting, i might've been done way earlier like the aus previous to this one were, but the quality of the fic might've suffered due to burnout forcing me to rush things like said other fics. i'm so glad i decided to do it this way, i can write for much longer if i need to, since i can take breaks between chapters. it isn't going to be rushed. as you are well aware now that it's almost been an entire year since i posted the first chapter haha. we're getting close to the weirdmaggedon + epilogue chapters, which will hopefully mean i can be done this year. big stuff!

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-one | JJK

A day of golf goes better than expected despite being ditched by your bestfriend and spending the afternoon with your so-called rival.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

High society of sorts, Richie Rich type of wealth.

Warnings: Oral (m/f), sexual jokes, dig bick Jk, playful banter, unprotected sex, squirting, throat fucking, sexual tension, one-shot. (Did I miss something?)

A/N: I wanted to write more but I thought it ended ok. My knowledge on golf is based on Wii which I stopped playing a long time ago. So bear with me.

I have no way to know how long but enjoy.

Because some of you asked nicely

PART 2 PART3 PART4 PART 5 Complete

++++++

You groan in frustration as you read Namjoon's text saying he left with the girl he met at the club lobby.

It was a nice sunny afternoon, perfect for golf. At least Namjoon was gonna fill holes either way and that irks you the most. He's had women, left and right, while you struggled with your types.

All you want was a man who shared the same things you like. Golf was your thing, Namjoon came for the women who thought they were stealing him from you. When in fact, Namjoon was your cousin/best friend.

"Alone today?" The attendant, Jean, always met you with a smile and your golf clubs.

"Yeah, unfortunately my cousin can't last a second without a mouth around his dick." Her face flushed a deep crimson. "No offense." Yup, she and Namjoon did it too.

"None taken, I'm over it." She shrugs and grabs the golf kart key from the shelf. "Shall we?"

"I think I wanna go solo today, Jean. Thanks." You take the key from her and she nods. She knows better than to say no to you.

Your custom lavender colored Kart waited for you, your initials in mettalic purple on the front. It was parked next to several other custom karts.

You arrived at your first course. A man was already standing there, setting up his own stuff. No caddie in sight, you notice his arms and very much know who he is. You look at the deep purple colored kart next to yours.

"No girls to fuck on this fine afternoon, Jeon?" You smirk as you step out of your kart.

He stands up straight at the sound of your voice, he doesn't need to turn around to know its you.

"I wondered why the birds stopped singing." He continues to set up his tee. "No dicks to suck?" He quips.

"I don't fuck on the weekends." You're unfazed having been bantering like this for about a year now.

"Oh look, we do have things in common." He calls 'fore' before swinging his club.

You both watched as the ball lands near the hole. Out of respect you clap your hands, that was a good swing.

"Namjoon?" He finally turns to look at you, his eyes rake over your legs, your skirt is too short for golfing and your top hugged you so well he could outline your tits.

"Found a poor soul in the lobby before he could even touch some grass." You snort and pull out your own driver and ball.

He steps back, clearly you both could use the company even if it meant mean retorts.

You take position, he doesn't even try to be subtle about oggling at your ass.

You and Jungkook are neighbors but you studied abroad for middle school and highschool. Why you chose to come home for college, you're not sure. But you and Jungkook are in senior year now and you have common friend groups but not really that close until...

A year ago, you finally joined your parents to the Jeon's hunting weekend, it was an annual thing. It was going smoothly for the most part but when you and Jungkook shot the same boar at the same time, that's when the mean comments started. It was a rivalry of sorts, one trying to become better than the other.

Contrary to what he said earlier, you have too many things in common being raised in high society.

You see each other all the time at sport events and even charities but nothing beyond those events.

To be here with him, without anyone else is a first. You both won't admit that you've been crushing on each other but your society knows there's tension between you two.

"Nice ass." He comments just as you swing. Your ball landing a bit far from the hole.

"You did that on purpose." You frown at him, he was already smirking with that cute bunny looking face, his nose scrunched up.

"I did. Now look, looks like you need two more strokes to make it." He snorts as he walks towards his kart and you groan as you follow him.

"Title of your sex tape." You comment under your breath, he laughs.

You both drive down the path towards the hole.

You study the distance of your ball to the hole and his distance. You can make it in one, if you're lucky.

He lines himself up.

"Nice ass." You say back as he swings and it goes right in. You roll your eyes.

"Two strokes." He winks and moves to stand next to you. Shoulders touching, suddenly it feels warmer.

You stop to feel the wind, you work on your angle and with one stroke, it goes in too.

"Impressive." He claps his hands too and you made a little curtsy. "Never thought you'd be this good at golf."

"You see me here all the time. Doesn't that make sense?" You take both balls from the hole.

Instead of putting the ball in his palm, you make a bold move of standing in front of him while slipping both in his pockets.

"There, now you have a pair of balls." You look up at him, for a second his eyes darkened but the smirk was back.

He leans down, lips nearly touching. "YN, if you wanted to touch my balls, all you need to do is ask."

Your cheeks feel hot and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook. But you never back down.

"I thought you didn't have any." You lean closer, one more move and your lips would be touching.

"I can show you right now." Your face moves back. "All talk and no walk, a shame." He stands up straight. "But if you want it so badly. When I do a hole in one, you be my caddie. And if you do a hole in one, I'll fuck your brains out."

You snort but can't help feel the rush of wetness from between your folds.

"You say that like fucking you is a prize." You step away from him. "The only hole you'll get to fill today are on the course. But..." You flip your hair to the side, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If you wanted to, all you have to do is ask."

"Oh? Then, YN, can I fuck your brains out?" Oh, he's bold. You roll your eyes and walk back to your Kart.

He follows you, with a grin plastered on his face.

"Are you scared you might actually like it?" You scoff and look at him. Your heartrate suddenly spiking.

"I'm afraid I might get disappointed." You start to feel hot. Its only been one course, if you go back now. Jean will definitely say something.

"Oh baby, I could live up to your gold standard. I am gold standard." He's cocky and arrogant but god it would be a lie to say you're not turned on.

"See you at the next course, Jeon." Your kart starts backing up and he rushes to follow you again.

You both arrive at the same time, this time at a more difficult course.

"The next course we should do is intercourse." He hasn't even reached you yet and he's already teasing.

"Shut up before someone hears you." You forcefully stick your tee on the ground.

"Why? Its not like we're both kids, plus nobody is around." He looks around, the next group of golfers are a hectare away.

You sigh and face him again. He loves riling you up, it was just playful banter before and now that you've entered this kind of teasing, he loves your reactions.

"Okay." You declare. His grin ceasing a bit, his eyebrows raised. "I'll tee first, if I do a hole in one, you get on your knees and..."

"Beg for your forgiveness? Princess I don't beg." He smirks again, he licks his lip piercing.

You step even closer, your tits touching his chest and he loves the feeling. "No, I want the golden boy to get on his knees and show me what that mouth can do other than tease." His throat runs dry.

Shit. "Is that supposed to be a punishment? You'd probably beg for more once I'm done." He kicks his leg, hopefully to free some space in his pants for his growing boner.

You hum. "Another thing we have in common, I don't beg." Lie, you always beg in bed.

"Deal. But if I make a hole in one, you're the one getting on your knees." He's confident. Given your 'punishments' aren't really punishments. He'd love to eat you out, but he won't tell you that.

But you know this course, you've hit holes in ones in this. Yout heart is beating loudly almost clouding your senses. Jungkook has a permanent teasing smirk on his face you'd like to kiss off.

Out of all the places you could have teased each other into fucking, you didn't expect it to be at the golf course.

"Don't worry princess, I'll be gentle... At first." He chuckles.

You take a deep breath and swing. You both watched the ball as it flies over the field. You bit your lip at it lands an inch away and it falls right in. Your hands fly in the air cheering for yourself.

"Are you this excited to have me eat you?" He was standing directly behind you, his warmth and scent engulfing you. "My turn."

You step away and wink at him. He takes a deep breath and swings. You both watch as it takes the same speed and the same arch and his ball lands the exact same way yours did. A hole in one for the both of you.

He turns to you with a satisfied grin.

"I hope your throat is ready for me princess." Your nerves are going haywire at his voice. Did it get lower?

You quietly head to your kart, you nod to the side, gesturing him to follow you and you drive away.

The thing with this club house is, both your parents are partial owners, hence you have access to the many rooms the place offers if you asked.

Lucky for you, you already planned on staying the night since it was a free weekend.

You barely parked properly, tossing the key to the valet. You meet Jean and you ask for a room key, she eyes you then behind you, sure enough Jeon Jungkook was standing there, watching your ass again.

She hands you the key card. No more words exchanged between you, sexual tension builds in its wake.

You head to the elevator and head to the third floor. The suites.

Your breathing is starting to get ragged as you feel the fragile tension inside the elevator. Jungkoom just stood there, eyes forward, hands in his pockets. He refrains from moving since this place had security camers and your neighborhood would have a field day if you fucked in the club elevators.

But all he can hear is his heartbeat, all he can smell is you, and all he can feel is the tightness in his pants.

He follows you down the hall, and you swipe the key card. The moment the two of you cross the threshold and the door securely locked. You turn to face him and his hands are already on you, pulling your face into feverish kiss. You moan into the kiss as he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his torso.

He takes you to the couch. He grins into the kiss.

"What?" You pull away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

"I was thinking who should get their prize first." His hand was on your cheek, thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it into your mouth and suck on it. "fuck." He mumbles and his breath gets caught in his throat.

"Since I'm being generous." You get off him and get on your knees in front of him. "Wouldn't want to keep my goldben boy waiting." The way you called him yours made his heart skip a beat.

It was a joint effort to take his pants off. What he didn't expect was for you to take your top off, a sexy lace bra underneath it. Usually, you wear a sports bra but you didn't feel like it today. Now you know why.

He's huge. Your wetness growing in your panties. Eager to have him, you take a hold of his base and rub his dick over your face.

You moan and finally take him into your mouth. He hisses and moans.

His fingers weave through your hair. The way you look up at him as you take him deeper almost made him cum. Fuck, for years you basically ignored each other despite everyone teasing you about ending up together since your parents were basically best friends, had you known that his dick would fit perfectly in your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations sending Jungkook into pure bliss.

"Keep going." His head was thrown back as he moans loudly. "So fucking needy." You took him deeper to show him how needy you can become.

He takes your hands and places them on his thigh. "Double tap if you can't take it." You nod knowing what he'd do next. He did say he'd be gentle at first.

He weaves both hands into your hair this time and fucked your throat. Your tears and drool flow freely, you look like a fucking porn star and Jungkook loves it. You're taking him so well he moans out loudly.

"I'm gonna fucking cum down your throat." He forces his words out and you simply take in his thrusts. With one last shove he shoots his load down your throat, you swallow around him. "Holy fucking shit, where the hell have you been all my life." His breathing was ragged as you pull off him, grinning like the slut you are. "Who knew that a princess like you loved to be treated like a whore, my whore."

He makes you stand up, you use your shirt to wipe off the drool, you avoid your tears that made makeup run down your cheeks, that's going to stain.

Jungkook kisses your pelvis as he rids you of your skort. The lace thong that matches your bra peek through and he's starting to get hard again.

He takes off his shirt and pulls you down for you to land over his shoulder. He stood up like you weigh nothing, you shriek and giggle at the way he's handling you.

He literally throws you onto the bed, but the way you landed seemed so graceful in Jungkook's eyes. So pretty, so delicate, like you were made of porcelain with the sex drive of a succubus.

His eyes were glassy, hazed from the mindblowing head he received. Crawling towards you as you scoot up to the headboard.

"Time for your prize princess." He uses his teeth to pull down your thong and expertly unclasping your bra.

"I better get my money's worth, Mr. Gold standard." He captures your lips in his before slowly kissing down on your skin, your eyes roll to the back of your head as he finds the sweet spot near your clavicle.

Your scent is addicting, what he'd give to get a taste of you everyday. He can make that happen, he will make that happen.

After all, high society is all about marrying each other to keep the weath from seeping out of your grasp. He's hypnotized by the way your chest rises and falls as he inches towards your needy pussy.

You've lost it the moment his tongue comes in contact with your folds. He wastes no time devouring you, you sound so good.

This is bad, so bad that he hasn't even fucked you properly and he already wants to marry you. Keep you close because nobody else should see what he's looking at right now.

His tongue works wonders, lips sucking on ever inch. You were chanting his name like it was a prayer. "Holy fuck baby." The petname sounds so nice coming from you.

It wasn't long until your moans become more high-pitched as you fuck yourself on his tongue. What threw you over the edge were the two fingers he inserted. You were squirting all over his face, your body shaking like a leaf.

"That was hot." He smirks up at you, putting both hands on your face as you tried to control your breathing. "You okay?" He moves up to hover over you, prying your hands away.

"I've never... I—I haven't..." Squirted but you can't seem to say it. Jungkook captures your lips again, you taste yourself.

"I'm honored, princess." He teases and you blush. How can he make you feel giddy when you literally just came all over his face.

Something inside you tell you that you'll never find another man who can make you feel like this, who can make you cum like that. No, you need this everyday.

"Jungkook." You reach down towards his erection. "I want you to fuck my brains out." Referring to your earlier conversations.

"Fuck yes baby." He dives in to kiss you with much more need than the previous one.

The tip of his head was rubbing against your opening, he was waiting for you to protest and ask him to wrap it up but you dig your heels on his ass instead.

"Fuck me." Your fingers scrape through his hair. "Please, baby." He chuckles.

"I thought you didn't beg?" He finally pushes in you, your mouth falls open but you don't make a sound other than a small squeak. "You're made for my cock. So fucking tight." He grunts.

You start begging him to go faster and harder, Jungkook happily obliges. With your thighs thrown over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around your throat, he could get used to this. You feel so good and he wasn't holding back from telling you what a good whore you are.

He lifts your ass up just a little hitting you at an angle you never knew felt so fucking good you're cumming again.

He fucks you, over and over. One orgasm after the other, you've lost count of how many. It wasn't until he spills his load all over your tits that he finally collapses next to you.

After care be damned, you both fall asleep in each other's arms covered in cum.

Your phones ring at the same time. 6pm sharp.

"Hey dad." He groans into the phone.

"Mom." You pick up your own phone.

Legs still tangled around each other as you both spoke to your parents. You both answer the same thing.

"Let me guess, dinner?" Jungkook tosses his phone on the night stand as you lay yours gently.

"Yeah, at your place." You mumble. "I think we passed out." You giggle.

"Fuck yeah we did." His bunny toothed smile. "Wanna shower together?"

With your body aching like crazy you decide to shower here. The warm bath helping you recover, of course you two fucked again.

He drops you off at your house before parking his car at their mansion next door. He waves at you as you both enter the house.

Your mom was standing by the window with a huge grin on her face.

"Did Jungkook drop you off? I though you weren't close like that?" She asks as you step up the stairs.

"Yeah, but we... We went golfing today. It was fun." You smile, and your mom simply nodded.

It was more than fun. It was definitely gold standard. The best hole in one you've had.

-----------

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (Complete)

[kiraavi]

show you a body

Summary: After a night out you return home and your insecurities take ahold in the quiet. Joel makes it his duty to chase away all those bad thoughts even if it means spinning a thousand pretty words and tender touches. CW: smut, pwp, unprotected piv, creampie, oral f!receiving, body worship, praise, nipple play, thigh riding, a mirror is heavily involved, reader is feeling insecure + related negative self talk, emotional hurt & comfort Note: this was supposed to be a quick little fic to get me out of my writing slump, but it ended up way longer than I initially intended. This one hits pretty close to home as someone who continuously deals with body image issues and a lot of insecurity, and I hope that maybe it will bring some comfort to those who can relate. You're beautiful and loved!! As always, this is written with game Joel (Goel) in mind. No, I will not stop spreading the Goelspel. Also reader is specifically written to be plus size here. Credit to @/saradika-graphics for the divider. Comments, reblogs, and likes are all so incredibly appreciated! I'm always overjoyed to receive feedback. It means a lot to know that people have taken the time to stop by and read my fics. Lot's of love to y'all and happy reading! Word Count: 4.5k Ao3 Link: read here!

It had been a wonderful evening. Truly. On all accounts. One spent beneath twinkling string lights and surrounded by the little community Jackson had fostered, but it came at the worst of times—with its slow and silent crawl from the dimmest recesses of your mind. And yeah, maybe you’d left the window open a sliver, or maybe it had slipped in through the crack in the wall that you’d put off patching up. Maybe it didn’t matter who poked the slumbering beast or how the waters came to be stirred. 

The quiet voice arrives unbidden and undeterred by the love you’ve surrounded yourself with. It seeks to pick and chip away at the already fragile fissures of your confidence. It imparts unto you all the haggard things you don’t want to feel. You’ve stewed in it—in the discomfort of your own skin and the fictitious judgements. You’ve fretted over the unseen looks and imagined thoughts that you have conjured up on others' behalf.

You are unraveling. A ball of yarn unspooled and frayed at the ends, one thread drifting farther and farther from the collective whole. The mattress dips as you lower yourself onto its edge. In the quietness you can hear the gentle rush of running water. On any other day you might’ve joined Joel in the shower but you’re too far gone, too wrapped up in your doubts. Your dress bunches in your lap, your fingers clutching at the fabric as you let out a shaky exhale. 

When you lift your gaze, you’re met with your reflection across from you in the sliding mirrored closet doors, and you think that you might like to tear them from their track. It is not the image you wish to happen upon in this moment—not when your vision is so warped and perception skewed. But something urges you to stand, and your feet carry you closer. That cold and harrowing feeling washes over you, ebbing and flowing, prickling over your skin. It is the ice in your veins. It is the lump in your throat. It is the ache that wells unbearably in your chest. It is the recognition of all you try not to acknowledge. It is the realization that you must be blind otherwise everyone else is a liar. 

All of the sudden your dress is too tight. It hugs your stomach and hips awkwardly. It outlines you weirdly or maybe you were just shaped that way to begin with. The straps showcase the pudginess of your arms. You should’ve worn something with longer sleeves, something with a skirt long enough to cover your legs, something looser, something with enough flowy fabric to cover every flaw. You wonder what possessed you to choose this dress out of all the others. Did you really let others see you like this? You hardly recognize what you’re doing—dissecting, scrutinizing, taking yourself apart piece by piece. Carving and whittling away until all that was there is gone. 

The bathroom door creaks and white light spills into the bedroom, but you don’t really register it. You’re so absorbed in your thoughts and judgements that you only notice Joel's presence when the door swings shut behind him. He stands there, salt and pepper hair tousled and damp, wearing nothing but his plaid sleep pants. For some reason, seeing him makes everything you feel expand and grow tenfold. You jut your chin to the side but he’s already closing the distance, coming up behind you and winding his arms around your middle. 

Warmth pours into you as his scent envelops you—cedar, citrus, and comfort—that fresh, lovely smell of the homemade soap he uses intertwined with a scent that is so distinctly yet indescribably him. A damp strand of his hair tickles your cheek as he plants a kiss along your jaw. His hands slide lower and your breath hitches. He’s oblivious to your turmoil but your silence won’t go unnoticed for long.

“The- the door…” you start but your voice wavers and you stumble over the words. “The hinges need to be greased.” 

It’s a lame and poor excuse for conversation—a hurried, trembling remark to fill the silence and feign some sort of normalcy. You see the moment his brows knit together, and he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the reflection. A look of realization dawns on his face. Your watery eyes, trembling lip, and the critical, assessing look that you direct at yourself. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” His hold grows firmer, tugging you tighter against his body. There’s a low, quelled anger that simmers beneath his next words. “Did somebody say somethin’?”

And that’s the worst part, isn’t it? There is no rhyme or reason to this feeling you harbour. Would it be easier if there was someone to blame? Would it be easier if there was a simple and concise reasoning for the tears currently brimming your eyes? But there isn’t. There’s just you, and this habit—this line of thought so often and secretly tread that the path has become trodden and trampled, stomped down a hundred times over.

“No… no, it’s nothing,” you say weakly, reaching down to pry his hands away but they don’t budge.

“Oh, s’nothin’?” he asks. “Nothin’s why you’re standin’ in front of the mirror on the verge of tears?” 

You open your mouth to protest but nothing comes out, and then the tears are slipping down your cheeks before you can hope to stop them. You wipe them away furiously, but whatever mirage you had been trying to construct wavers and the curtains are drawn back. The truth floats between the two of you even though it remains unspoken. 

For a long moment neither of you say anything. You watch silently as he takes in your form, but his eyes hold none of the contempt that yours do—just the pure adoration that your brain tries to convince you must be a trick of the light. He knows exactly what kind of thoughts have flayed you open and torn you up inside.

“Do I not tell you how beautiful you are every day?” he questions, pressing himself closer to you. 

“Joel– that’s… not,” you huff, shaking your head. It’s not anything he’s done or hasn’t done. You don’t know how to articulate it properly. It’s you. There isn't an outside source. No, it comes from within—there is something inherently wrong within you. A deep rooted insecurity so ingrained in yourself. You’ve done your best to bury it, but it surfaces from time to time. A festering wound that refuses to heal no matter the remedy. You see the gears turning in his head, and you can already tell that Joel’s going to make it his sole purpose to be your cure and chase all those bad thoughts away.

“Does my girl not realize how obsessed I am with her?” He coos as his hands sink lower, slipping beneath your skirt and caressing your thighs. He pauses to give them a firm squeeze, finger tips dimpling the plushness there. “These thighs…”

He coasts his hands up to feel out your tummy, hiking your dress up with the movement to reveal the pretty panties you’d chosen to wear. He hums, eyeing them appreciatively as he nuzzles against your shoulder. The scruff of his beard scrapes against the supple skin there. One hand slips between your legs to cup your mound. He tucks his fingers right over your clothed slit and you jolt when taps them against your clit. “Your curves.”

A shudder courses through you, hips twitching at the contact before he raises his hands up, up, up. Your ample breasts fill his hands, fitting into the grooves of his broad palms. “These pretty tits.”

“My gorgeous, gorgeous woman…” he continues, kneading your breasts. His head nudges yours, urging you to look at your reflection. He’s scooped your tits right out of your dress, they spill into his hands in surplus. His body wraps around yours from behind, completely entangled with you. Your skirt is ruffled and disheveled, partially rucked up your thighs. A shaft of sunlight pours into the room through the gap between the curtains. The last glittering light of golden hour illuminates you, catching in your hair and along the lovely shape of you. He gazes upon your reflection with the most ravishing look. “I love every fuckin’ inch of you. Your body is a work of art, darlin’.” 

“What do I gotta do to prove it to you, hm?”

It’s a hopeless sort of feeling to hear those words pour from him, from his heart, like it’s the truth—like it’s something you’re meant to take for gospel. Yet it doesn’t quite compute in your brain. He sings a song of praise, but the words are misshapen pieces of a puzzle that don’t fit alongside the image you have of yourself. You don’t know how to admit it without breaking his heart.  

“Joel, this isn’t necessary,” you mumble as you look at your reflection. Your vision is blurring again, tears gathering anew. 

“Isn’t it?” he says as he curls his fingers into your panties and begins to lower them. “Let me love on you… ‘s what I’m here for.” 

His hands move to your waist next as he walks you backwards. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he drops down onto the mattress, pulling you down to straddle his thigh.

“I love this dress on you.” He tugs at the hem, lifting it up and off of you. “Couldn't keep my eyes off you all damn day, wonderin’ what I ever did to deserve a beautiful woman like you.”

You're entirely bare now, and though he's seen your body many times before, it feels different this time. As though a nerve has been scraped raw and exposed, but he handles you with the utmost care. Gentle, tender touches that seem utterly uncharacteristic of the kind of man he appears to be.

He brushes a stray hair aside and kisses your temple. His lips linger there for a moment, his eyes fluttering shut as he seems to relish in the moment. 

“It’s fine– I’m fine…” you whisper. It is second nature to deny yourself this treatment—to pave it over with fibs and false reassurances. Even if it’s something you crave. It feels a little too much, but also way too damn good. You hesitate to indulge in it like you want to, afraid that the rug might be pulled out from under you. “There’s no need for all of this.”

His eyes snap open, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “I beg to differ.” His thigh jolts beneath you and a soft sound tumbles from you. Your hips roll down against him, the fabric of his pants catching against your clit. His hands grip your waist, guiding your movements over his leg. “You look so fuckin’ sexy… my girl takin’ her pleasure from me, mhm… that’s it.” 

You’re sick of feeling this way—of constantly falling over yourself, doubling back, and thrashing against all the good, sweet words. You want to feel beautiful. You want to feel like the woman Joel describes before him. So you decide that you’ll try to wrap yourself up in his praise, and cradle your tender heart, brittle ego, and scarred eyes in whatever antidote he’s concocted for you.

His words goad you on, your head tilting back as you grind down on his thick, muscled thigh. Everything else falls away. The whirlwind storm at the forefront of your mind is temporarily subdued as you immerse yourself in sensation.

“Gonna come for me?” He husks, leaning back to take in the sight of you. “Gonna come on my leg, sweet girl? Look at that mess you’re making…”

“Nghh– Joel, hah…!” you mewl, shaking your head. It’s not quite enough. The pleasure doesn't compound upon itself. The growth is stunted and frustration wells inside you, unfurling and overshadowing satisfaction. “N-need more– please!”

Joel stills your hips and adjusts you over his lap. His face comes to rest against the crook of your neck, fitting perfectly into the curve. He shifts to trail a couple kisses along your shoulder before slanting his gaze up at the mirror. 

"Spread your legs f'me,” he murmurs and you comply, inching your legs apart. “Wider.”

You hesitate, legs trembling. He takes matters into his own hands, prying your legs open and hinging them over the tops of his knees. You gasp, clasping at the arms that move to cage you against him. One strong arm bands around your midsection, his hand splaying over your plump stomach, fingers dipping into the pillowy flesh there.

“Good girl." The praise spurs on the whirring butterflies in your tummy. Warmth creeps up your cheeks as another kind of heat sinks low. His other hand is between your legs in the next instant, fingertips grazing your clit as he brings two digits down to part your folds.

“Look at that perfect cunt,” he groans, pulling your own attention to the lewd sight in the mirror. Your entrance contracts around nothing as he pulls his fingers up to strum at your clit. “How could you ever think you’re anythin’ less than perfect?”

You moan, writhing and pressed flush to him as all his attention converges on that little bundle of nerves. “Gotta rid your head of all those nasty thoughts… make sure my pretty girl knows how beautiful she is.” 

Your eyes flit all around before landing on the inevitable again. And you think that you catch a glimpse—even if only a fraction—of what he witnesses each time he sees you. Warm sunlight bathes the room, limning your figure. It snags on every contour of you. You’re a painting depicted in gold luminescence and luscious curves. 

But mostly, it is the way he looks at you that makes you feel beautiful. The light catching the branches of golden brown radiating into the mossy green of his eyes as he holds you so tenderly in his gaze. As though the rest of the world has fragmented and disintegrated, and you’re the only thing left in existence. Or maybe he looks at you in spite of all the beauty that can be found elsewhere because you’re the only sight he finds worthwhile.

Two thick fingers follow the seam of your pussy, dipping low and sinking into the wet heat while his thumb continues to bear down on your clit. He eases them deeper then curls them, and drags them back out, intentionally passing over that sensitive spot inside you. He kisses his devotion into your skin, skimming his lips back over the slope of your shoulder to the nape of your neck, and then to the side of your face, his nose ghosting over the apple of your cheek. He holds you steady and grounded as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt.

Slowly and languidly he hales sweet sounds from your lips. He revels in the hitch of your breath, the punched out gasp, and every whiny, needy noise. He gets off on the sight of his fingers vanishing into your slick heat, and the obscene squelch of each movement—the way you’re spread open for the mirror and bared to him but also, and more importantly, bared to yourself.

The hand on your stomach rises, journeying through the valley between your breasts and stopping beneath your chin. He holds his hand still at the column of your throat, directing your gaze toward your reflection. He doesn’t say anything. He just continues to dismantle every self doubt—every ugly and terrible thought with each drag and curl of his fingers and the reverent gaze that belongs to you. Only ever you.

“A-ah! ‘M close… so close!” You drawl, feeling that meandering sensation well and roil in the pit of your stomach. He brings you closer and closer to that sweet precipice, stringing you along with firm circles rubbed over your clit. 

“Yeah? C’mon then, let go…” he murmurs and all it takes is a few more seconds, another pass of his fingers against that spongy spot within you, and another swirl of his thumb. You’re locking up, muscles drawing tense and rigid. Your hips stutter, canting up into his hand and seeking more as though he isn’t giving you it all. You cry out—a weak, snivelling sound as your walls spasm around his digits, seemingly trying to bring them deeper. “Mm, there we go… You did so good, baby girl. So good for me.”

Joel looks on in awe while you fracture atop his lap, thighs quivering as tiny earthquakes send tremors through your rattled body. He firms up his hold on your neck for a fraction of a second before sliding it back down. He withdraws his fingers from between your legs, and hauls you off of him, laying you down across the mattress.

He crawls over you, looking down at you tenderly, and using the back of his hand to caress the side of your face before bringing his glistening fingers to your mouth. You part your lips and he pushes them inside, brushing them over the flat of your tongue. You hum, tasting your own arousal on his fingers. He makes a muted noise before pulling them free.

He ducks down, nuzzling against the generous swell of your breasts. Your breath catches in your throat when you watch him turn his head. His lips feather over your dusky areola before he latches onto the stiffened nub of your nipple. You keen as he suckles it into his mouth. 

“J-Joel!” You squeak but he doesn’t let up. One hand comes up to lavish your other nipple with some attention, pinching it and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He stays there for what feels like an eternity before pulling away, and moving to take your other nipple into his mouth next.

Once he’s had his fill, he releases the bud, leaving it glistening with his saliva. He takes a minute to worship your pillowy breasts some more, fondling and massaging them. His large, work roughened hands look almost out of place against the backdrop of supple plushness. 

“I love every part of you…” he whispers, finally and reluctantly sliding his hands from your breasts and down your sides, stopping at your waist to squeeze the pudginess there. “Every. Single. Part.” Each word is punctuated by a kiss to your left side, then your right, then right below your belly button.

“Every mark,” he adds, pressing a kiss to each freckle he finds—every beauty mark, or scar, or birthmark. He plants a row over the spiderwebbed stretch marks scrawled along your tummy. “Beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy as hell.”

His fingers parse over you like you’re sacred scripture, leaving no page unturned, unlearned, unmemorized. They glide up and down, feeling out every divot and fold of your body before coming to rest at your thighs. He tugs them apart and seats himself between them. His warm breath fans over your folds causing your hips to jerk in anticipation.

“Ain’t gonna be able to think about shit else ‘cept how good it feels,” he says before leaning in and running his tongue up the length of your slit. “Sweetest damn pussy…” he moans and instantly presses closer to take his first sip from you.

His tongue flicks at your clit, keeping all his attention there for a long moment, feeding off of your moans and whimpers. His arms are hooked around your thighs, and his grip tightens before pulling you closer. He groans as he dips his tongue lower, prodding against your entrance. He’s got himself smothered in your cunt, nose bumping against your clit. There is no need for oxygen. You are the only thing he needs in order to keep on living.

He eats you open and drinks you up as if he takes pleasure in it himself. And he does, doesn’t he? He’s addicted to you. He thrives on the taste of you, the feel of you, the sound of you. Every aspect of you is something that exists purely to be worshipped by him. He’d place himself upon your altar and offer himself to you. He’d devote the rest of his time on this Earth to making you feel like the Goddess you are.

You whine and wriggle, but he’s got you held still. He laves his tongue through your folds and pushes it deeper again. He’s lost in the act, humming, moaning, and rutting his hips against the mattress. He eats you out as if he’d happily drown in you—as if he’d gladly forgo his next breath if it meant another second spent pleasing you. Like it would be both a privilege and a pleasure to suffocate in you. But he finally diverts his attention back to your clit with the goal of winding you up and coaxing you to another shuddering peak.

An ever tightening coil twists and rolls in your tummy. You hang in the moment before the inevitable break, back arching and hands clutching at the sheets beneath you. And when that coil snaps, you’re left gasping out, entrance clenching helplessly around nothing and aching to be filled. He laps you up, working you through your orgasm as the waves wash over you in quiet susurration. 

Joel pulls back and stands to full height in front of you. Your eyes survey his form—the droplets of your arousal like dew in his greying beard, the thatch of curls atop his chest, down to the trail of hair that leads down beneath the waistband of his pants. You sit up and reach for them, pulling them down. His erection clearly strains against his boxers, barely containing his burgeoning arousal. You raise your hand to cup the bulge. He grunts, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand away so he can rid himself of his underwear.

He pulls them down and frees his cock. It’s thick and veined, an angry red at its drooling tip. In the next moment he’s gently pushing you back down, and caging you against the mattress again as he notches the head at your entrance.

He meets your gaze, asking silently for permission and you nod. He’s pushing in one drawn out motion, breaching your tight cunt with a bitten off groan. He retreats minimally to gather your legs, and bring them up before bending them toward your chest. You mewl, legs hooked over his shoulders as he sinks back inside you. 

He rocks into you, carving deeper with each roll of his hips. Your head tips back, eyes falling upwards to the ceiling as you keen. Your tits bounce with each thrust, and he’s momentarily mesmerized by the way your body jiggles and moves under his. Still, he’s quick to cup your cheek and tilt your gaze back to meet the intensity of his own. You are impossibly full of him—split in half on the girth you’ll never quite get used to.

“You’re exactly what I want…” he coos, thumb running under your eye, the simple touch transcribes an immeasurable amount of reverence. “As you are–you’re everythin’ I could ever ask for… nghh, and you feel so damn good.”

He continues thrusting into you, shifting your legs from his shoulders and laying his body over yours. You whimper as he drives his cock forward over and over. His breath catches in his throat, as he presses his head to your temple. You feel his breath and muttered utterances flitter over your ear. Quiet, wispy praise and strangled curses.

His cock twitches—he’s getting close. He slips one hand between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it in vigorous circles. He’s hellbent on bringing you over that crest again. The two of you moan in unison, and when your walls contract and pulse around his shaft, it sends him over the edge too. He stills, nestling himself inside your cunt as his cock jerks and fills you with thick, warm spurts of his cum. 

Both of you go limp in the aftermath, lost in a post orgasmic daze. Your bodies are pressed flush to one another, slick with a thin sheen of sweat that plasters the mess of his hair to his forehead. He pulls back slowly, and you reach up to hold his face and coax him back down. His lips meet yours in a slow, passionate kiss. He pours himself into you and you do the same in return, humming and arching into it as his tongue licks into your mouth. After a little while, you break off, panting and chest heaving.

Joel leaves your side for only a few minutes, but it feels a bit like forever. He returns with a damp rag in hand and helps you clean up, gingerly wiping between your legs, and lathering you with gentle affections and soft kisses. He brings you a new set of clothes, and helps you into them not because you’re incapable, but because every fibre of his being yearns to tend to your every need.

When all is said and done, he lays down on the bed beside you, his form molding and curling around yours from behind. He brushes his fingers along your face, admiring you silently and when his gaze flits up, he meets yours in the reflection of that damned closet door. You look a little misty eyed. A little disbelieving. A little bit like you’re some place else.

“Aren’t you seein’ what I’m seein’?” he questions, tilting his head as he addresses you. “The most gorgeous woman to grace this Godforsaken Earth…”

You exhale sharply, your eyes rolling upwards as you try to find the right words—ones that won’t shatter this perfect, fragile moment, but also aren’t made of half truths and deceptions.

“It’s just– it’s so hard to look past… all this.” You gesture vaguely to your body. 

“Baby, all this is a blessin’,” he says, rubbing a hand over your hip. “You oughta trust me on that.”

“I’m trying,” you manage to say weakly, your voice quivering. Because despite all the wonderful things he’s said and the blissful ways he’s laid his hands upon you, it simply won’t be something you get over in one night or two. “I really am.”

“That’s all you have to do, understand? Just gotta try everyday, little by little, to appreciate yourself,” he murmurs, giving you a reassuring squeeze as his lips graze your temple. “And if you need some remindin’ from time to time, well, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

You place your hand over his at your hip. You take it and turn it over, running the tips of your fingers up his wrist before pressing your palms together and entwining your fingers. “Can I schedule a reminder for tomorrow morning?”

His lips twitch into a smile.

“I think I can manage to pencil you in, pretty girl,” he murmurs, burying his face against your neck and kissing you there. “Always.”

Tags: @smvtwitchmiller, @iloveshawn

[psychhound]

announcing spiritkeep: a therapeutic ttrpg

howdy all! some big announcements!!!

first, im nearing the end of my master's program, studying rhetoric and writing, games, and educational psychology. im about halfway done with my thesis, and figured it was time to make an announcement …

my thesis, entitled "designing ​spiritkeep​: therapeutically applied RPGs as a discourse community" is … about what it says on the tin :) in it, I look at the practice of TA-RPGs, which are TTRPGs run for the express purpose of inducing therapeutic growth. TA-RPGs are usually run by a clinician, like a therapist or counselor, or a certified therapeutic game master. my thesis is looking at the needs of therapeutic game masters as a community and asking … what do they need from TTRPGs that isn't currently available?

the thesis takes concepts from rhetoric, linguistics, game studies, literature studies, psychology, and more to ask the question … what would a TTRPG specifically designed for therapeutic use look like? i examine concepts like bleed, close to home characters, dramatic rehearsal, performative speech acts, fixed vs growth mindsets, information processing theory, and more. i also look at criteria set forth by current TA-RPG practitioners for what makes a good TA-RPG, and examine five current games against those criteria. then, i put together the research into a foundation for spiritkeep, a dedicated TA-RPG

spiritkeep is designed around the goal of helping teens and adults heal from complex trauma

that said, its perfectly suitable for a homegame as well, as long as everyone is on the same page and approaches it with the mindset of collaborative growth. all in all, it's still going to be a fun game and a good TTRPG!!

in spiritkeep, you play as a smalltown taskforce with the shared goal of restoring your currently struggling community to a thriving state. you go out on missions like finding resources, diplomacy with neighboring cities, researching ecological problems, and more, while you slowly make your town a better place to live. spiritkeep includes collaborative worldbuilding, a large assortment of playbook options like the Wayfarer, the Knight, the Ghost, or the Shepherd (all designed to hit where it hurts, at least a little!), and a brand new system inspired by PBtA, FitD, BOB, WoD, and more. while the game is designed around grappling with identity and learning how to grow, it can also get a bit tactical and crunchy!! the new dice mechanic makes you think on your feet with every roll

this announcement is also to say that i am beginning the initial crowdfunding of the game through itch. right now, im trying to raise funds to pay the fee to my school to make my thesis open access, meaning anyone can read it. then, remaining funds will go towards things like resources, consultants, art for the kickstarter, and everything else i need to get this project off the ground. ideally, ill be able to team with a publisher to cover the logistics of business while i can focus on the game itself. once the game is finished, there will still be plenty of playtesting, consulting, and other work to do. but!!! this post marks my first steps towards what has been my dream for years now

this sale is how im starting the funding process. it includes the zine preview of my thesis, covering my chapter outline and big concepts, and also my first TA-RPG: with breath & sword, a solo game to help players calm down from anxiety. both items have community copies available: please feel free to grab one if you can't contribute !!

questions, comments, or partnership offers can be sent to psychhoundgames @ gmail(.)com

thanks y'all!!! wish me luck!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[barnes-babydoll]

The Line | b.b 𐙚˙⋆.˚

[Chapter One]

Pairing | New Avengers!Bucky Barnes x New Avengers!Reader

Summary | You have a deep-seated hate for Bucky, fueled by pure irritation. However, after a particularly heated conversation between the two of you, the team suggests that you channel that energy elsewhere. Initially, you find this idea absurd, but eventually, your perspective begins to shift. Will you be able to handle the stress of an ongoing mission that feels too personal while also engaging in a complicated sexual relationship with Bucky Barnes, or will you crumble under the pressure?

Warnings/tags | Thunderbolts* spoilers? Tower fic, enemies to lovers, cursing, angst, bickering, mentions of human trafficking, violence, nsfw, MDNI (18+), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, soft dom!Bucky, low-key brat reader, kissing, breast play, officer I swear there's a plot (but it's mostly smut), no use of y/n

Word Count | 7.3k

A/N | Hey, lovelies! Originally, this was intended to be a one-shot, but my mind came up with too many ideas, and now it has turned into a series! I’m not entirely sure how long it will be, but I have a rough outline in place, so please bear with me. I know I say this often, but I’m new to writing and learning as I go. I’m a sucker for an enemies to lovers plot, but let’s be honest—they’re not truly enemies; they just really hate each other at the beginning. Also, this chapter contains some Russian; if it’s translated wrong, blame Deepl. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please let me know or feel free to provide any feedback:))

Read on AO3:)

Chapter One: The Arrangement - Table for Two

Hate.

Fiery, raging, all-consuming hate. 

That’s what you felt for Bucky Barnes, and undoubtedly, he felt the same way about you. He made your blood boil in a way that no one else could. You both had a knack for getting on each other's nerves, trading insults, and cursing each other out. 

In many ways, it was quite childish. Neither of you could complete a mission or a debrief without engaging in bickering or delivering snide remarks. You were constantly at each other's throats, which had left the rest of the team exasperated. They had even resorted to separating you during missions or simply tuning out the verbal sparring that filled the room.

You were unsure how it all started, whether it was your first meeting or if he rubbed you the wrong way. Regardless of the reason, it was clear that you despised Bucky.

With all that in mind, you had an...arrangement with the super soldier, even though he made you want to leap into oncoming traffic and drag him along with you. 

It all started after a random debrief a couple of months ago. You and Bucky were bickering, as usual, while the whole team watched in a mix of silent horror and, perhaps, amusement. It was hard to tell which one it was, but they certainly didn't intervene in your little dispute. 

“I had it under control!” you yelled, pointing a finger at his heaving, puffed-out chest.

“Like hell you did!” he shouted back, swatting your finger away. “You were surrounded with a knife to your throat. You’re lucky I showed up when I did, spitfire.”

Ugh, you hated that nickname, yet he persisted in calling you that simply because he knew it annoyed you. He claimed the nickname fits you since you’re easily angered and let your emotions cloud your judgment. Maybe he had a point, but it still frustrated you.

“My hero,” you retorted, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you clutched your chest in mock affection. “Always there to save the day.”

Bucky placed his hands on his hips and leaned into your space. “Maybe I should’ve let him slit your throat; then I wouldn’t have to listen to your grating voice.”

You narrowed your gaze and clenched your jaw. “You are such a dick.”

“There’s an idea,” Walker interrupted. You both turned your heads sharply at the blonde who had the audacity to speak at a time like this.

“What?” You growled, eyes piercing and deadly.

“I’m just saying you’ve been at this for an hour. You should redirect that energy towards something else,” Walker replied casually.

The entire team shifted their focus to Walker's words. Yelena stopped picking at her chipped nails. Ava paused her knife sharpening. Alexei put down the tablet he had been pretending to swipe through. Bob closed the book that had been resting in his lap. All eyes drifted to Walker.

“What exactly are you implying?” Bucky’s words slipped through gritted teeth.

Walker rolled his eyes but clarified, gesturing to you. “You need to get dicked down, and you,” he pointed to Bucky, “need some pussy, old man. Maybe you should just bang it out.”

Your face twisted in disgust as you let out a noise of repulsion. "You're sick!"

Bucky groaned, rubbing the growing headache at his temples with his flesh hand. Walker raised his hands in surrender while Yelena shrugged beside him. 

"That was horribly said," Yelena admitted, "but I agree.”

“That’s a first,” Walker mumbled.

Yelena continued, ignoring his comment. “Maybe you need to have sex and see what happens. All that pent-up anger shouldn’t go to waste arguing with each other constantly."

The team hummed in response, surprisingly supportive of this outrageous idea. You stood in disbelief, your mouth agape and your brows furrowed, mirroring the expression of the man next to you.

“Should we put it to a vote?” Alexei suggested.

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious about voting on whether we should have sex or not.”

“All in favor, say ‘I,’” Ava chimed in, ignoring your objection.

A sudden chorus of "I's" filled your ears as everyone, except you and Bucky, agreed. Even Bob shocked you by joining in; he usually steered clear of tense conversations. 

You understood why he did, though—he hated seeing you and Bucky fight. It reminded him of his parents' arguments growing up, and that insight hurt you. You never wanted Bob to feel uncomfortable in his own home, but you couldn’t help the bubbling irritation you felt toward Bucky.

After a moment, you turned to face Bucky, his icy blues already assessing you. You really looked at him then, taking in the way his hair was perfectly coiffed away from his eyes and the firm line of his lips had softened. 

You could clearly see that he was attractive, but no one would ever pry that information out of you. However, you felt nothing for him except pure disdain. The thought of being intimate with him made you feel nauseous. 

There was a brief flash of something in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as his attention shifted back to the group. “Not happening.”

You let out a dry laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. “Wow, something we can actually agree on.”

“Fine,” Walker sighed, conceding in his bad attempt to play matchmaker. “If you're finished verbally stabbing each other, can we return to debriefing?”

You and Bucky took a seat at the table with the others, allowing the room to return to its easy buzz of voices as the team discussed the mission. Feeling a bit petty, you shot daggers at Bucky from across the table. He remained unfazed, returning your glare with the same intensity.

“I don’t get it. Are we going about this wrong?” Ava muttered, pulling you out of your daze and prompting you to join in the conversation.

“I thought we had him this time,” Walker exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table, “but he just keeps leaving traces of himself behind.” 

The individual in question was Alek Vaxlov, the mastermind behind the notorious underground fighting ring that trafficked children and forced them to fight for the entertainment of wealthy patrons who funded the operation. The team had spent months working to capture him, but you had dedicated much of your life to finding him and taking matters into your own hands.

You found yourself too closely tied to this mission, which made it difficult to maintain a level head; otherwise, you risked spiraling out of control. Vaxlov haunted your dreams, sending chills down to your very bones. Even though you hadn’t encountered him in years, he still had the power to instill fear in you as if you were eleven years old all over again.

Every time the team was within reach of him, he vanished, leaving behind signs of his presence as if to say, You just missed me. This time was no different. You believed you were two steps ahead of him, tracking his movements like clockwork. In reality, you were two steps behind, scrambling to locate his current whereabouts. You were being played like a fiddle, and Vaxlov was no doubt enjoying every minute of it. 

The team carefully crafted a plan, and when it was time to put it into action, you felt ready. You had trained for this moment, eager to confront him and witness a glimpse of the terror he had etched into you like a tattoo carved beneath your skin. You wanted to make him suffer, to ruin his life just as he had ruined yours, but you would settle for seeing him behind bars.

Unfortunately, when you arrived at the location he had directed you to, you immediately knew that he wasn't there. Your instincts were like a compass, guiding you toward Vaxlov, and it was evident that he had disappeared once again.

You charged into the building and separated from the group, disregarding the plan of attack. Confident that no one was inside, you set out to search for any clues that might have been left behind. However, you took a wrong turn down a hallway, and Vaxlov's lackeys quickly swarmed you.

It was five against one, and you had it under control, contrary to what someone might suggest. You quickly took down two of the attackers, dodging their weak blows and slamming them to the ground.

There were three guys left, and it should have been easy to take them out and keep moving. However, your mind was a snowstorm of thoughts. One wrong move, and one henchman went high, locking you in a chokehold with a knife pressed against your throat.

The two remaining attackers were ready to beat the shit out of you, but your hero, clad in black, arrived just in time. Bucky quickly wiped the floor with them, giving you the opportunity to free yourself from the one who was holding you.

You didn’t thank him since he was already praising himself. You hated showing any weakness in front of anyone, especially Bucky, who always managed to make you feel small. He never openly criticized your strength, but you could tell he was thinking it.

Vaxlov's associates were apprehended, and the team searched the building but found nothing significant left behind. Your only lead was those behind bars.

“Did they talk yet?” you asked, your voice hoarse. You weren’t sure if it was from your argument with Bucky or the heavy weight of this mission.

“Nope,” Yelena popped the ‘p’. “They keep asking for lawyers, but I doubt they’ll say anything even then.”

You let out a hefty sigh. “So, after another month of silence from Vaxlov, we'll discover something. Then, as usual, he will vanish, and we'll keep going in circles.” 

Ava propped her head in a hand, frowning. “Pretty much.”

You slumped forward, resting your head in your hands with a groan. Alexei, ever the encourager, spoke up before you could dwell on it. “We’ll find him. We’ve got your back when we eventually bring him in because we’re a team, yeah? The New Avengers!” he bellowed, raising a victorious fist.

Everyone was aware of your connection to Vaxlov, but they didn’t ask for details, which you appreciated. You weren't comfortable sharing that part of your life. What mattered most was the main goal: to capture the bastard and ensure he was locked up for good so he couldn't harm anyone else.

You gave a slight nod, and a faint smile played on your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah,” you said so quietly that you’d be amazed if anyone heard you.

As the meeting came to a close, the team began to disperse to their respective rooms. You were the last to leave, but before you could go, Bob placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. He didn’t say anything, but his gesture spoke volumes; it was just what you needed. He gave you a soft smile before walking out of the room.

You ambled to your room and quickly removed your tactical gear, tending to your minor wounds from the mission and opting for a tank top and sleep shorts. 

You paced back and forth in your living space, consumed by thoughts of Vaxlov and his next moves. Suddenly, your mind wandered, seemingly seeking a distraction. The team’s absurd idea about you and Bucky came to mind. However, the more you thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed.

Perhaps they were right. You need something to relieve the tension in your body and clear your mind of the stress from the mission. What better way than to sleep with the man you hate the most?

It could be beneficial in several ways. The fighting might decrease, missions could run more smoothly without the bickering, and you and Bucky might begin to understand each other better. Most importantly, you would have the chance to get laid, something that hasn't happened for an embarrassingly long time.

Although you love being part of the New Avengers, you're constantly busy. Whenever you finally find time for a much-needed personal day, you often feel too tired to do anything.

Without further hesitation, you headed to his room, finding it easily. You had often stood outside his door, daydreaming about smothering him with his own pillow. Yet, you could never bring yourself to do it; he wasn’t worth the jail time.

You raised your tight fist to knock on his door, feeling upset with yourself for even entertaining the idea. But before your knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door swung open. Bucky stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. His eyes widened, and your hand fell back to your side.

You stared at him for a beat, and a tense silence settled between you. You took in the way his black shirt hugged his chest and how his sweatpants hung low on his hips. You had never seen him like this—so easygoing. It wasn’t just the outfit; it was his overall demeanor.

You eventually broke the quiet. “Were you about to come to my room?” you asked with a teasing lilt to your voice.

He rolled his eyes. “You are so full of yourself.”

You shot him an unimpressed look. “Well, were you?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he hesitated. “Yes,” he finally confessed.

You didn’t let yourself feel too satisfied, knowing you were the one who showed up at his door first. You bit the inside of your cheek as your mind raced. “Is this a bad idea?”

Bucky let out a slow breath, and a sly smirk crossed his face. “How can it be? You didn’t come up with it.”

A bitter noise escaped your chest, and you turned to leave. “I can’t believe I even considered this.”

“Wait,” he grunted. You glanced over your shoulder, and he reached out toward you without actually touching you. “Truce.”

You spun around again, hands balled into fists at your sides. “You can’t call for a truce when you're the one throwing stones.”

“Alright,” he replied evenly. “No more stones.”

Bucky stepped back into his room. His large frame covered the door as he stood sideways, nodding for you to come inside.

Your strained muscles relaxed as you walked inside. You moved to sit on the edge of his bed, and the mattress dipped beneath you as you settled in. You heard the soft thud of the door closing and then watched as he approached, taking slow, measured steps to sit beside you.

He decided to keep his distance, as he usually did, unless the argument escalated and he got in your face. Instead, he just sat there with his hands on his knees, showing no sign of anger, which was unusual for him whenever you were nearby.

“How do we do this?” you murmured, shifting to face him.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

Your face contorted in confusion. “You’ve never had sex before?”

Finally, he looked you in the eyes, annoyance flickering across his face as he tilted his head. “Of course I’ve had sex,” his voice lowered to a deep, gravelly tone. “I meant I’ve never had sex with…you.”

Your expression softened, and you nodded, understanding what he meant. This wasn’t just some random hookup; this was your teammate whose very presence often made you livid. The thing is, if this didn’t go well, it couldn’t possibly make things worse than they already were.

So, you inched closer to him, testing the waters. Bucky noticed, and his face became gentler as he mirrored your movement. He leaned down, and almost instinctively, you backed away.

He furrowed his brow and grumbled, “Don’t lean away!”

Defensively, you shot back, “It’s a force of habit!”

He sighed, and you took a deep breath to clear your head. Nodding in silent permission, you encouraged him to try again. Without further hesitation, his warm hand gently cupped your jaw as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed yours, soft and tentative, as if he needed to ensure that this was still okay.

You reciprocated, your hand drifting up his chest to fist the front of his shirt and pull him closer. The kiss grew more passionate as his lips explored yours with increasing boldness. It felt surprisingly enjoyable, and if he’s this good at kissing, you can only imagine what else he might be capable of.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past the seam of your lips, and you parted them to grant him better access. As your tongues swirled, they seemed to engage in a quiet battle of their own, fighting for dominance. It didn’t matter that you were both speechless and unable to argue verbally; your bodies were prepared for a wordless conflict.

His hand wandered into your hair, tugging at the strands to deepen the kiss. It instantly elicited a soft moan from your lips that mingled with his. He shifted his weight on the bed, moving to kneel on the mattress. His metal hand found the underside of your knee, gently pulling to spread your legs. With a quick motion, he yanked you toward him, breaking the kiss as your head fell back against the plush fabric of his blanket.

Bucky was hovering above you now, your legs bracketing his hips. He stripped off his shirt, revealing his chiseled physique and toned muscles. In the moment, he was captivating, exuding confidence without any teasing comments to set you off. 

Your hand mindlessly roamed up his body, and you felt his muscles twitch in response. You grasped the back of his neck and drew him closer. He leaned in, his arms coming down to frame your head on either side. Bucky captured your lips once more, and the kiss was filled with pure hunger. It was all teeth and tongues as lust clouded the air around you like steam swirling from a sauna.

The cool metal of his fingers traced down your arm, causing you to shiver. He hummed in amusement as his lips dragged lower to your jaw. He planted wet, sloppy kisses down your neck while his metal hand slipped under the hem of your tank top.

The heat pooled in your stomach, and your chest began to rise and fall rapidly as his mouth worked at your neck. Your hips lifted to create friction as you started to grind against him. You could feel him straining against his sweats, thick and heavy, and it was all you wanted. Your free hand drifted down to tug on the waistband of his pants, trying to free his dick.

He grunted into your neck, and it vibrated through your skin. He pulled away, gazing down at you with dark eyes and an arrogant smirk. “So needy.” 

You rolled your eyes; he always knew how to get under your skin, even when he was actively turning you on. You missed when his mouth was preoccupied. “Less talking, please,” you snapped back.

His smirk faltered. “I couldn’t agree more,” he muttered with an edge of irritation. 

He quickly pulled your tank top up to rest on your collarbone, leaving your chest completely exposed. He didn’t move to take it off, just stared at your breasts as your nipples pebbled in the frigid air. You trembled slightly under the weight of his attention on you.

“You’ve never seen tits before, James?” you jokingly asked.

Bucky didn’t respond; he didn’t need to because he was on you in seconds. His head fell forward to latch onto your nipple, alternating between sucking hard and his tongue darting out to flick the sensitive bud. A gasp from deep in your chest turned to a whimper instantly as he gently bit down, rolling it between his teeth.

You felt goosebumps rise as his metal fingers danced across your flesh to massage your opposite breast before pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You squealed, and your hand ran up through his hair to grip the long, dark locks.

He eased off your nipple to dot kisses on both your breasts as you squirmed beneath him. Your hips bucked off the bed again, searching for any way to relieve the pressure between your thighs.

He chuckled against your skin and reached down to pin your hip to the mattress, preventing you from writhing around. “Easy, spitfire. Just relax.”

“I am relaxed,” your tone came out a little breathy and tinged with agitation. “I just—” You cut yourself off with a moan as he sucked your other nipple into his mouth.

Bucky expertly swirled his tongue around your nipple before letting it go with a soft pop. He inclined back to catch a glimpse of your face; you were flushed, and there was no way to hide what he was doing to you. “Tell me what you need.”

You finally had the chance to catch your breath, but you struggled to do so because of the earnest look on his face, as if he genuinely wanted to know how to please you. 

You swallowed hard before responding. “You know what I need.”

A hint of a smirk appeared on his lips. “Nope, no idea,” he lied, his expression radiating smugness. “Use your words. You seem to have plenty when I don’t want you to.”

You knew he was going to keep pushing, so you spit it out. “I need you to fuck me, Barnes.”

His smile widened as he moved closer, bringing his face inches from yours. “Good. Now, ask nicely.” 

You sighed deeply but gave him precisely what he wanted. Tilting your head up, your lips brushed against his as you looked up through your eyelashes. “Please, fuck me,” your voice was dripping with lust, leaving no room for denial.

His hot breath fanned across your lips as he exhaled slowly, his eyes shimmering with desire. He backed away from your face but didn’t waste any more time. His hands gripped the waistband of your sleep shorts and tugged them off while maintaining eye contact with you.

Bucky pulled down his sweatpants just enough for his cock to spring free. You couldn’t suppress your gasp; he was larger than expected. For an ego as massive as his, he surely had the length and girth to match. The tip was angry and leaking precum. It was taking everything in you to remain still.

He finally broke eye contact to grab the base of his cock, and glanced down at your drenched pussy. His tongue dipped to wet his bottom lip as he grasped your thigh and pulled you down the bed. He reached down and pushed your other thigh wider to get a better view.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he stated as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious to you. He pressed his tip into your folds and ran the head through your juices. You sucked in breath as he continued to tease the both of you. 

His dick nudged your entrance, but he looked to you for confirmation. “Ready?”

Your core throbbed with anticipation, and you were growing impatient. Yet, you had to admit it was sweet of him to check in with you. You mentally kicked yourself for having that thought. He was not sweet; in fact, he was the opposite. Bucky was rude, grumpy, and certainly got on your nerves.

Instead of responding like a normal person, you reacted with an attitude. “Just put your damn cock in me.”

Aggravation flickered over his features. Without warning, he gripped your hip and slammed into you in one fluid motion. You whined and fisted the sheets below you at the sudden intrusion, but you supposed you deserved that. 

He was buried to the hilt and breathing heavily above you. You didn’t know whether it was from fury or the overwhelming feeling of him stretching out your tight pussy. He allowed you time to adjust, which was a mercy because if he started moving, you feared you might pass out simply from the fullness.

“Dammit,” he groaned, his jaw tight as he looked at you with eager eyes. “Can I move?”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, your fist tightly clenched in the sheets. Placing your free hand on his shoulder, you braced yourself for what was about to happen. You gave him a stiff nod, finding it too difficult to say anything beyond a moan.

“What happened to that smart mouth?” he taunted. Just as you were about to make a sassy comeback, he leisurely pulled out to the tip before thrusting into you quickly. The words that formed in your throat died on your tongue. All you could do was whimper as he set a slow, deep pace.

Your leg slid off the bed to wrap around his waist as he moved, but Bucky had other plans. He pinned your thigh back down to the mattress, spreading you open once more. “Stay just like that. I want to see how good you're takin’ me.”

He glanced down between your thighs and, with his fingers, he pried open the lips of your cunt to watch the way he was gliding in and out of you. You were taking every delicious inch of him and found your eyes drifting to the same spot he was staring at. You could hear the lewd noises of skin slapping as he sped up, driving into you with renewed purpose.

“Greedy fucking pussy,” he rasped, “takin’ everything I give her and still begging for more.”

Your mouth went dry from his filthy words. Did he always have such a dirty mouth? You couldn’t deny that you liked it; it made your mind go fuzzy and your heart pound against your rib cage.

Bucky finally locked eyes with you while his hand found your hip for leverage, thrusting into you harder. “Does that feel alright?”

There he was again, checking in on you, stirring unwanted feelings in your chest. “I thought we agreed on less talking,” you lashed out breathlessly.

One second, he was relentlessly pounding into you. The next, he ceased all his movements, narrowing his eyes at you. “Answer the damn question,” he barked.

Your pussy was basically weeping at the loss of pleasure, and you weren't above crying, too, if he didn't start moving again. “Yes, yes! It feels so good—please, just keep going.”

“Was that so fucking difficult?” he growled, but he wasn't waiting for an answer as he resumed his hard, deep thrusts. 

His human hand snaked under your back and pushed upward, prompting you to arch for him. Instantly, you felt him hit that sweet spot, and you let out a strangled moan.

You tipped your head back and let your eyes flutter closed, giving in to the sensations as he repeatedly rammed into your G-spot. Your core flexed around him, and a throaty groan escaped his mouth. “You close?”

You peeled your eyes open, though it was a struggle. Bucky’s eyebrows were pinched, and his body went rigid as if it was becoming harder to hold back from releasing inside you right then and there.

You nodded and murmured a quick, “Uh-huh.” You weren’t taking any chances on him intentionally edging you to push you to speak.

His flesh hand migrated south, and his thumb pressed into your clit before moving it in tight circles. You gasped and lurched forward, your nails digging into his shoulder to ground yourself. Your cunt was squeezing him as his thumb rubbed you quicker. You weren’t just close; now, you were right on the edge and slipping into ecstasy.

“Come for me,” he coaxed roughly. 

Your orgasm wracked through your body instantly at the sound of his voice. You came with a cry as your pussy fluttered around him. Your arm gave out, and you fell back against the mattress, riding the waves of pleasure. You tilted your head back in pure bliss, and your thighs began to tremble from the intensity. He worked you through your climax until he grunted as if he were in physical pain.

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna—”

Bucky cut himself off as he pulled out of you, and with two pumps of his fist, he came. The warm liquid poured out of him and splattered onto your lower stomach. He was drawing out his own orgasm, making sure you got every last drop.

He nearly fell on top of you but managed to let go of your hip to catch himself. Rolling over onto his back beside you, he sighed. The only sounds in the room were the heavy breathing of you and Bucky. 

As the aftereffects began to wear off, you both stared up at the ceiling in an uneasy silence, taking the time to catch your breath. You didn't know whether to speak or to wish for the bed to swallow you whole. You weren’t prepared for an awkward conversation afterward, but you decided it was time to confront the situation head-on.

“Well, that was…” you searched for a word that would capture the essence without being too intimate, but Bucky interrupted your thoughts.

“Really fuckin' good,” he stated bluntly.

You hummed in agreement and turned your head to look at him. “What do we do with that information?” you asked. “Because it doesn’t change the fact that I hate you, and you’re still an asshole.”

He glanced over at you, a faint smile on his face. “The feeling’s mutual, brat.”

You groaned and glanced up at the ceiling again as if it could provide answers to your burning question. As your mind buzzed with a million different thoughts, one idea began to take shape. “What if we keep doing this? A sort of…arrangement.”

It sounded ridiculous as it left your lips, but you couldn’t deny that the sex was exceptional. None of your previous partners had ever brought you to the point of orgasm, let alone given you that mind-numbing, legs-shaking kind of release.

He propped himself up on one elbow to get a better view of you. “Huh?”

“Like friends with benefits, but since we’re not actually friends, I guess it’s just benefits." 

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You closed your eyes for a moment, praying for patience because you were lying next to an idiot. “Lord, help me. I keep forgetting you’re practically ancient,” you muttered, your eyes opening to explain. “'Friends with benefits' is a term that means you maintain the same relationship as before but include sex on the side.”

“M’kay…” Bucky drawled. You noticed that he was deep in thought by the way he peered around the room while not actually focusing on a single item. 

“You don’t have to agree; it was merely an idea to relieve stress or at least to stop you from being so grumpy all the time.” 

He ignored your jab and nodded his head. “Yeah, we can try it out.”

“Yeah?” Your tone went up an octave, shocked that he was finally on the same page as you. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. “It’s a decent idea. Congrats, that’s your first one.”

“Asshole,” you chirped.

“Brat,” he shot back.

You let out a long breath. “Alright, we’re doing this. Now we just need to set some ground rules.”

He quirked a brow. “It’s just sex.” 

“I know, but it needs to be more…structured.”

“Structured sex? Man, you really know how to take the fun out of it,” he said dryly. “Next, you’re gonna make a document for me to sign.”

You shrugged. “That’s not a bad idea.” He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. You scooted off the bed and picked up your sleep shorts from the ground. “Can I use your shower?”

“Go ahead. Sorry about that, by the way,” he gestured toward your lower stomach. “I wasn’t thinking; it just happened.”

“It’s no big deal,” you replied, brushing him off. You started to walk toward his bathroom but turned at the last moment. “You can come inside me next time.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes going wide. You quickly added, “I’m on birth control, and I take it religiously, so there’s no chance of a slip-up. Thank you for being cautious, though.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgment of your words and tilted it toward the bathroom. “Need some company?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You tilted your head in response, giving him a blank expression, and he snorted softly. A small smile then spreads across your face. “I need to wash off your cum, but afterward, why not?”

His lip twitched in amusement. “I’ll see you in there then.”

You entered the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open as you turned on the water. You removed the remaining part of your tank top, which had been resting above your chest, and placed it on the sink along with your shorts. Stepping into the shower, you let the warm, soothing water cascade down your body.

It wasn’t long before you heard the bed creak, and the curtain was pulled back to reveal a now fully naked Bucky. He swiftly moved behind you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist and drawing you flush against him.

He was hard again, pressing firmly into your body. He traced the back of his fingers down your arm, causing you to shudder despite the steam filling the air around you. His lips found the curve of your neck, kissing you as if he had done it a thousand times before.

You could definitely get used to this.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You felt cold and were grasping for anything that might keep you warm, but all you found was the cool bite of the cement beneath you. You slowly opened your crusty eyes, likely from many nights of tears.

You glanced down and realized your body was that of a small child. You felt frail and couldn’t remember the last time you had eaten, as your tongue tasted like metal. You opened your mouth to scream for help, but no sound came out. Silence enveloped you, and the only noise you could hear was the rhythmic drip of a leak nearby.

You sat up with the little strength you had and wrapped your arms around your middle, hoping to find some warmth. You felt the familiar sting of tears in your eyes, and your chest felt as if it was cracking open like a shell.

You heard a distant pair of footsteps approaching. The whine of your cell door echoed before a tall figure came into view. He bent down to one knee to bring himself to eye level with you. 

You were immediately hit by the rich odor of smoke, nutmeg, and a hint of citrus. He pulled a small box from his back pocket and flipped it open to take the thing that was hidden inside. 

The darkness surrounded you, consuming you like hungry shadows. You couldn’t make out the details of the man’s face or what he was holding. Then, suddenly, there was fire—bright and blinding. You squinted, adjusting to the small light emitted from the stick he held between his thumb and forefinger. 

The flickering light illuminated part of his face, revealing beady eyes, a strong nose, and a scar that ran across his jaw. You were never afraid of humans; they always showed you love and care. It was spiders and enclosed spaces that terrified you. But this man filled you with inexplicable fear, making the tears well up in your eyes once again. 

He brought the match to his lips and breathed deeply. He inhaled the tobacco from the cigarette and blew the smoke into your face, creating tiny rings of mist that vanished as they touched your cheeks.

Your chest tightened as if the smoke was winding around your lungs, choking the life out of you. You coughed several times before finally taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The man laughed, a loud, booming sound that startled you. 

You didn’t quite understand what was so funny, but you figured he might explain it to you. When he opened his mouth, the words that came out were in a language you couldn’t comprehend—perhaps Russian. “Это лучшее, что у нас есть?” [Is this the best we have?]

You noticed the other man standing in the doorway with a gun strapped to his chest, and his timid voice drifted through the air as if he wasn’t the one holding it. “Да, сэр.” [Yes, sir.]

The man in front of you brought the white paper to his lips once more as his eyes pierced into yours as if he could dissect your very being with a single glare. Smoke wafted from his mouth as he spoke, and this time, you understood him despite his thick accent. “Do you want to be strong, little girl?”

You didn’t respond because dread was rising in your throat and blocking your airways. He clenched his jaw as silence filled the room. With a snap of his fingers, the man standing by the door rushed to his side. He pointed at you, issuing a quiet command. In an instant, the butt end of his lackey’s gun struck you violently in the temple.

You wailed in a raspy cry and collapsed forcefully onto your side as white-hot pain flared above your eye. Reaching up, you placed a hand over the wound and blinked rapidly up at the man whose features were shrouded in swirling smoke. 

“Let’s try this again,” he snarled. “Do you feel weak now? I want an answer this time.”

“Yes,” you croaked, your voice softer than you intended.

“Good,” he commended. “Do you want to change that?”

Your body began to shake, and you felt a sense of hopelessness. Deep down, you knew no one was coming to save you, and you had to summon your strength in order to endure this situation. 

“Yes, I want to be strong,” you replied sharply, your face defiant despite the circumstances.

He roared with laughter. “Мне нравится этот. У нее есть отношение.” [I like this one. She has an attitude.]

His hand reached out, caressing your jaw before taking your chin firmly. “I will make you strong, little one. You will be untouchable.”

You woke, shooting upright, drenched in sweat. Your heart raced as if your body believed you were back there. You could almost smell the faint aroma of smoke as you attempted to slow your breathing.

You threw off your blankets and rushed to the bathroom. Dropping to your knees beside the toilet, you felt nauseous but could only manage to dry heave. Staring blankly at the water, you noticed how its stillness contrasted sharply with the jittery feeling in your body.

You eventually stood up and walked over to the sink to splash some water on your face. As you glanced up at the mirror, you noticed your reflection. Despite having just experienced a horrible nightmare, your face looked unusually bright. Perhaps the sex you had earlier was already having a positive effect on you.

You could only think about going to Bucky’s room, needing a distraction. However, you decided against it because it would likely inflate his ego, which was already quite large.

Instead, you returned to your bed and pulled out your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t be sleeping the rest of the night. You opened a document and began typing, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you wrote.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next morning, Bucky heard a loud, persistent knock at his door. He had only been awake for about half an hour, and it was still early, almost at the crack of dawn. He pulled back the sheets and lumbered over to answer it.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see you standing there. You were fully dressed, which disappointed him. He had already grown accustomed to seeing you naked and preferred the sound of your moans over any nagging that came from your lips. You looked wide awake, with a hint of a glow about you. He liked to think it was because of him, as you never appeared this way on any other morning.

He leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms over his bare chest with a smirk. "Back for more so soon?"

You rolled your eyes with a scoff. "You wish." He glanced down, noticing the papers in your hands. You pushed the packet to his folded arms, and he took it, examining it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as he turned the pages in his hand, noticing that the text was neatly typed and organized with bullet points.

“Our agreement,” you said casually, “I’ve compiled a set of rules and information I deemed important. Please review it and let me know if I’ve overlooked anything or if you’d like to add to it.”

His jaw dropped, and he stared at you as if you were a silly circus act. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” your tone was flat and unwavering. He scanned a few lines, and sure enough, you weren't lying. The information was meticulously laid out, and you thoroughly covered every detail. “You can skim through it, but there are some non-negotiable points that you need to pay attention to.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be skimmin' it.” His eyes bore into yours, clearly disgruntled. He waved the packet around in his hand, the pages flapping wildly. “This is damn near twenty pages long.”

“Don’t be so dramatic; it’s not that bad. However, if you never learned how to read, I’d be glad to read it to you,” you jokingly added.

“I can read,” he growled. 

“Alright, then, it shouldn’t be too difficult for you.” You offered him an overly sweet smile, evidently enjoying this.

Bucky's steel blue eyes scanned the paper, and he let out a dry laugh at one particular line. "Is section 'a', clause five really necessary?"

You understood what he was referring to because you answered immediately. “Definitely.”

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not going to ‘catch feelings for you.’”

“Good,” you replied with a gleam in your eye. “It’s simply a reminder.”

He shifted his focus back to the packet and let out a sigh. “You did all this last night?”

You shrugged and mumbled, “Couldn’t sleep.”  

“Too busy thinkin' about me?” he teased.  

You arched an eyebrow. “Now, look who’s full of themselves.”  

“Can you blame me? You give me quite the ego boost when I can get you to scream twice in one night.”  

You slapped his arm and pointed at him like you were scolding a child. “Keep your voice down! No one can know about this, especially not the team. They’d have a field day if they found out.” You gestured to the papers in his hand. “There’s a whole section on that. Read it very carefully.”

“Trust me, I’m keepin' this under lock and key. I’d seem desperate for sleepin' with you.”

“Oh, fuck off! You didn’t seem to have a problem with me last night while you were admiring my tits,” you remarked.

Bucky raised his hands in mock surrender. “They’re nice. I’d be more inclined to listen to you if you lifted your shirt more often.”

You frowned and took a few steps back, realizing you had accomplished what you set out to do and felt finished with this conversation.

With a forced, toothy smile, you said, "Well, happy reading! I wanted to give this to you early so you'd have something to enjoy over a cup of coffee."

“How considerate of you,” his voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“One can only hope.” Your grin became venomous as you turned and wandered away, leaving him with an enormous packet to get through.

He desperately hoped that the sex would be worth the permanent headache you’ve caused him.

[gowerhardcastle]

Seven Hard-Won Tips Specifically for Writing Interactive Fiction

This is pretty fun, putting together these lists of writing tips. Today's list is explicitly about interactive fiction.

The trick to writing great interactive fiction that anticipates, foreshadows, introduces themes early, and has interesting choices that set up later events is to *go back and rewrite the earlier chapters* after you’ve written later chapters.  That way you look like a genius who can plot things out way in advance, but in fact, you just went back and made it seem that way.  Good writing is recursive, and that’s just how it is.

I start with an outline, then I write a code skeleton, leaving blanks for the prose, and then go in and fill in the prose.  This way I’m either in code-brain or prose-writing-brain.  I don’t like switching between the two.  Then, after than phase, I go back one more time and I do the callbacks—you know.  Might the main character be wearing a feathered boa in this scene?  Here’s some custom text.  Might the main character be limping?  Here’s some more custom text.  If you do that after you write the prose, you’ll have the leisure to think of anything fun and specific you can use. 

Callbacks tell players that their choices are unique, important, memorable, and valued by the writer.  It tell them that their choices have led them down their own particular path that the writer is rewarding with unique prose.  It doesn’t have to have a stat effect or create a new fork in the narrative.  Great prose is the reward.

Find an group of alpha readers to read your work early and often and then shut up while they read it and just listen to what they say and comment.  You must resist the urge to explain because you won’t be there at everyone’s house when they are playing your game or reading your narrative.

Make rules for yourself about how you are going to name your variables.  Don’t do what I did, with a horrible blend of sometimes calling a chracter “gil” in the variables and sometimes “gilberto”; sometimes “fitz” and sometimes “fitzie”; sometimes “metvyv” and sometimes “met_tabby”—ugh!  This is self-torture.  Don’t do what I did.

Keep your initial creation of variables super organized.  Write comments in there explaining what these variables are and when you might need them.  I comment most when I am creating variables.  You might create a variable in chapter one called “mustardallergy” that you don’t need until chapter eight, so write a comment that says “variables for chapter eight” and stick that “mustardallergy” variable under it.  I didn’t do this for my first games, and I regretted it. 

Use generic variables and make your life easy.  If you are writing a scene at the racetrack, just make a “xrace” modifier and add and subtract to it willy-nilly to represent just general ups and downs of fortune.  Stub your toe?  -5 xrace.  Wear a fine hat?  +8 xrace.  Throw around some money at the bar?  +12 xrace!  Eat some bad shellfish?  -15 xrace! Then add xrace to every test.  It’s a way of tracking just the ups and downs of fortune.  You can omit it when it doesn’t make sense, but it’s just a great way to make tests and rewards and penalties cumulatively meaningful without having to have a billion variables tracking every last *reason* for the rewards and penalties.

Discover more mini-essays about writing interactive fiction, writing in general, and the process of writing the forthcoming Jolly Good series below.

[pascals-doll]

candy

ellie williams x reader

🫧 happy valentines day to all my beautiful followers | enjoy this vday special 🩷 am i uploading this ar midnight because a bitch had classes and work yes but its valentines (was technically) IM GGONNA WRITE AN ELLIE FIC 🧘‍♀️

🫧 inspired by the song candy by doja cat | bed of roses PT2

🫧 description: fluffy, cute surprises, reader knows how to know paint a bit, just fluff, cute fluff,ellie sings to you (i took the scene from the game because i cherish it sm) smut, SLUT SMUT💋, power dynamic, dom!ellie, sub!reader, you and ellie live together, reader is PUSSYHUNGRY (mmm im so- i would do anything for that tsunami), reader eats out ellie on stairs (you’re welcome), fingering, praises, no use of y/n, use of petnames like doll, mama, and good girl, very little degradation, hair pulling, clit sucking, face grinding, cum eating, just ellie getting eaten so good! enjoy

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

but you know that it ain't real cherry

know that it ain't real cherry

🫧

it was valetines day today which meant ellie got to spoil you rotten; it is very well- deserved.

you would always be very thoughtful with your gifts.

this valentines day, you sneakily woke up around 1 AM and worked until dawn on customizing a wooden workstation that you got her for her artwork.

you knew you had work in the morning but you would do anything for the woman who’s protected you, provided for you, and pleased you.

you painted the workstation very carefully a dark earth-green. you let each coat of paint dry before beginning to carefully paint details on it.

you were going to paint symbols for each of her favorite memories onto it. you took references from her own beautiful drawings.

one of the details you painted were the beginning of Joel’s; now her guitar, painting even the moth.

one of the guitar strings then ran around the whole work-station, dragging the brush till the end.

you began to draw small moths and different flowers with herbs carefully placing them along the string line.

lastly, finishing it up by drawing a silhouette of the both of your bodies intertwined, then painting an outline of ellie’s knife and joel’s gun side by side on the side of her workbench.

once you were done, you carved both of your initials into the side of the workbench.

you transfered all of her essentials from the small broken down drawers; that could barely hold up to her made with so much love customized workstation.

you made your way back into your shared warm bed, careful not to wake up ellie.

sunrise made its way into the sky, ellie waking up now as you now slept.

ellie noticed you got up in the middle of the night, searching for your warmth but she shrugged it off before knocking into slumber again.

ellie got up very quietly, planting a kiss on your head before heading into her work room to get her guitar.

she walked into her art room, stepping as she scans the room. she immediately stopped in her steps, her eyes falling onto your beautiful workstation.

ellie’s heart pounds outside of her chest, tears wanting to form in her hazel eyes as a rush of emotions take over her.

she walks around the small wooden dark-green station, her handing brushing it softly as she takes in your designs.

she couldnt help but think about although you had work sadly on valetines day, you still did this for her.

this was bigger than the world to ellie.

you were the most perfect girl and if one thing was for certain, ellie would be spending an eternity of valetine’s day with you.

🫧

I can be your sugar when you're fiendin' for that sweet spot

Put me in your mouth, baby, and eat it 'til your teeth rot

I can be your cherry, apple, pecan,

or your key lime

Baby, I got everything and so much more than she's got

you were now currently at work, you hated how you got called in today.

you asked ellie if she was going to be good with you going to work today, in which she responded by pulling down your panties.

lets just say, you had a very pleasant morning before going into work.

while you were away at work, ellie got to work on her surprise because eating your cum for breakfast wasn’t enough.

she went to almost all the floral shops she could, selling them out of their pink and red roses.

ellie covered the entryway with petals, even the staircase that leads upstairs, and leading all the way up into your room.

the living room, she had a fairy lights hung along with pink lit candles on the ground.

ellie had a huge case of flowers waiting for you, wrapped in the arrangement of your inital.

that was only the downstairs, your room was filled with more surprises.

your shared bed was covered in rose petals, a couple small gifts waiting for you while your surprise gift was tucked away by ellie.

ellie finished up any last miniute preparations before you came home from work.

she changed from her pj shirt and boyshorts from this morning to a flannel with a black-tee and some baggy shorts that exposed her Calvin Klein lining.

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet (She's so sweet)

But you know that it ain't real, know that it ain't real

🫧

you came home a bit exhausted but excited because you picked up a teddy bear that held a heart with the writing “i love u” on it from a street vendor, leaving your job.

once you made it home, beginning to turn the keys to step through your front door.

you open the door to see your beautiful auburn-hair girlfriend.

she was sitting there on your shared loveseat, her beautiful fingers strumming her guitar.

the melodious tone from the strums of her guitar strumming the song your love for each other shares.

she began to sing softly “talking away” your hand cant help but go ovee your mouth as you felt tears begin to form.

the sound of her silky voice singing through your ears, making your heart pound and face hot.

“today’s another day to find you”

you could listen to ellie sing for the rest of your life, tears were already streaming down your face. ellie couldn’t look you in the eyes while she sang because if she did, she wouldn’t be able to finish.

you made her heart go a million miles per minute like a schoolgirl crush.

you made her stomach flutter like she was born with a butterfly nest inside her.

you made her soul shine like the sun after never-ending rain.

ellie finished serenating you, putting her guitar down

she finally looked up at you, clutching a teddy bear with tears streaming down your face.

before ellie could say anything, you ran into her arms; immediately taking you in to her embrace.

this was a feeling words couldn’t express, but only actions.

your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest with the clash of ellie’s lips onto yours.

you weren’t alone with ellie barely being able to catch her breath but so desperate for you.

the way your lips moved with such hasty movement but yet still passionately and amorously.

you began to walk towards the staircase, lips not leaving a moment. your eyes slightly opening time to time to make sure you were guiding you and ellie correctly.

“all i wanted-“ you began but were interrupted by her lips again.

“all day was to” ellie pulled away momentarily to let you continue.

“come home to this” you whined out against her lips, your tongue slightly licking over them.

🫧

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

Sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper

It's addictive, you know this, but you still lick the wrapper

you were fillied with arousal and need to please as you dropped to your knees…on the staircase. you could careless at this given moment.

your hands ran through her back, feeling each crevess of each toned muscle, then coming back around to her arms.

you gave her strong-toned arms a soft squeeze before having them go up to her chest. you needed to have her.

“doll i got a surprise in the room, lets-” ellie begins but you didn’t care.

“no” you said, looking her in the eyes as you unzip and unbutton her shorts “right here, right now” you whine out, pulling down ellie shorts completely.

ellie would be lying if she said you dying to eat her out on each other’s staircase wasn’t the hottest thing, especially on fucking valentine’s day.

it was you, how could she deny you.

“that desperate, mama?” she teases you as you peck her toned abdomen. you gave her a slight whimper as you nod.

she brings herself down to sit on the stairs, grabbing you by your jaw to pull you in for a kiss.

your lips meet again, your hand traveling down into her boxers immediately feeling seeping slick cunt “you drive me insane” you moan out, your mind was so drunk by her.

she had you high on her scent, taste, look, and touch. anything ellie did could have you on your knees, just like this.

your fingers begin to rub her clit in circular motion causing her breathing to hitch and soft moans of content escape her mouth as your lips travel down to her neck.

you begin to suck on the skin as your fingers massaged her clit, slightly putting pressure here and there causing ellie to let out gentle-yet-loud groan.

ellie’s hips began to rise to meet your hand “my beautiful doll-s’good f’me” she mumbled under her breathy moans.

you were sure you left her a purpletrail from her neck leading into her shoulder before going down a couple more steps.

you waste no time in pulling off her boxers, meeting with her wet pussy “s’pretty els, i love you.” you were just completely dazed by ellie at this point, wanting to please her and have her taste on you for days.

“you gonna drool or eat up, doll?” ellie smirks, she knew the effect she had on you and it made you fiend to please her even more.

your hands go to spread her thighs open a bit more before diving your head in between her legs. you met face to face with her juiced pussy, her slick coating your tongue as you lick a stripe.

“ah fuck, doll!” ellie moans out, her hips slightly bucking against your face as her hand had a grip on your hair.

the way you were on your knees on these steps buried into ellie’s pussy, your tongue collects her juices as you begin to swirl your tongue around her clit sucking softly.

she tasted just like candy, you grab her one of her thighs, hooking it up to balance on your shoulder.

the wider angle made her throw her head back “s’fuck doll! just like that. eat it just like that.” her vile voice praising the way you took the way she slopped her pussy against your tongue.

ellie began to work herself towards her orgasm on your tongue, her hand following the movement of your head.

you ate her out like this was your last meal, not wanting to let a single drop “god fuck-y-you’re insane!” she whined out as you worked you fucked her with yout tongue.

ellies stomach stomach flexes, her toned abdomen becoming more prominent as her breathy moans turn into pants and loud gutteral moans as you took your free hand; licking her asshole all the way up to her clit.

“fuck fuck fuck, doll! s’such a good girl” ellie’s hand swore she could’ve pulled your hair our by now but you could careless, the only thing on your mind was making this woman cum.

she deserved the way you ate her with delight, completely letting her use your face for her orgasm.

your nails dig into her thigh as you feel yourself slowly loosing your breath; but you were not leaving till she had came all over your face.

“s’close god! youre such a fuckin’ slut f’me.” her orgasm finally riding out.

“atta girl, lick it all up again.” she praises, pulling you back up from her pussy to her lips, tasting herself momentarily before her hand finds the back of your head guiding you to the white cum-beed that seaped out of her now fucked-out hole.

you licked her from asshole up, completely picking up her cum onto the tip on tongue causing you moan out as your lips were wrapped around her.

once you pulled away meeting her eyes, her cum covering your lips causing your face to glisten lightly.

“you’re a demon” ellie brings you into her embrace on the stairs.

“its not my fault you’re my favorite candy”

🫧

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

a/n > part 2 ??? 😇

[revelboo]

I love the way all your stuff blends together sometimes

Do you plan that from the start? Or has it just kinda happened as you go?

Also all the different storylines you've got going is insane and admirable, I love reading your stuff(esp Alcohol eyes and Attractive today! Oh oh and the Future freaks me out <333)

Is there a certain plotline or character you've loved writing for the most so far?? Or one you weren't expecting to enjoy so much but do??

- can I call myself the taking care of Rumble anon lmao that was my first ask I sent to you

I knew when I started separating the storylines out into the broad categories on the Masterlist, that I’d want to weave the ones in those categories together as much as possible. It’s easier to do that writing them simultaneously. These short fics are a mimicry of how I outline actual stories. I get a ton of index cards and just write short form scenes on them.

I really wasn’t expecting to have as much fun with Metroplex as I’ve had- I had honestly initially thought the request might be a joke request and just kept thinking about it until I decided to do it anyway.

Gotta take of Rumble. 18+ content. 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 5

Rumble x Reader

• Groaning, you drag a pillow over the top of your head as the light slicing in through the blinds finds your face. Leg sliding until it connects with something warm and hard to mingle with your headache and it all comes rushing back. A bit too much to drink, your ex. Rumble. Breaking the bed at some point apparently.

• Optics squinting at the bright daylight, there’s a faint worry that Soundwave might just kill him when he finds him, but as he sits up some and sees your leg you’d kicked out from under the sheet and follows the bare skin all to way up to the middle of your back, his spike is hard all over again. Soundwave becoming a later problem. Reaching for you even though he knows he needs to suck it up and talk to you. Because at some point you’re going to figure out he’s not a human in a costume and he’s not looking forward to that or your reaction. Right now, though? “Come here,” he growls.

• Hearing the bed creak dangerously as he shifts behind you, grabs your hips and settles himself between your spread thighs. Draping himself against your back, his weight driving the air from your lungs before he braces himself on a forearm and hooks the other under your hips. “Baby, I’m not even awake,” you laugh, voice wavering into a moan when his servos cup you, stroking. Definitely not the worst way to wake up as he uses his arm to tip your hips up and buries his spike inside you in a slow drive. “Right there,” you sigh, fingers fisting the pillow as you rock your hips back to meet his lazy thrusts.

• That wet heat grips his spike as he moves against you, in no real hurry this time. Just savoring the feel of you. He’s been with Soundwave so long, but he’ll need his own quarters now, for you and him. Soft things like humans like. Hips curling as he moves faster, you make those lovely sounds as he thrusts deep. You’ll be happy with him, he’ll make sure of it. Groaning as you tighten on him, hips rocking against you as you milk his spike. Pressing his mouth against the back of your shoulder. “Hey,” he says.

• “Good morning to you, too,” you laugh, feeling him lazily buck his hips against you again even as his excess wets your thighs. “That’s some dedication sleeping in all that,” you add. Because he’s still in his costume. The arm hooked under your hips shifts as his mouth brushes the curve of your shoulder and slides along your neck and up behind your ear. And in the light of day, it’s a bit too real. Like this means more to him than just fantastic, toe curling sex. You like the guy, but aren’t sure how to break it to him that it was just sex and after your ex, you’re not sure you want a relationship. At least not right now.

• “So,” he begins, reluctantly sliding free of you and you roll half on your side to look up at him, arching your brows at him. Easing back to sit, your bed creaks dangerously as he stretches out to catch your smaller hand. “Not a costume. And I’m not human,” he says, bracing for the fear. Not expecting you to start laughing as he grimaces. Because you don’t believe him.

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